Contest Entry - Flash Fiction (298 words

"I really didn't think he'd ever kick the bucket." Jillian idly commented, holding a glass of wine loosely by the stem and leaning against the frame of the dining room doorway. Dressed all in black, from her somber black hat to her four inch black stiletos, she looked every inch the grieving widow. But looks can sometimes be deceiving, or so I had always been told.

I studied her, unsure of what to make of that statement. Everyone  believed she was a golddigger, a beautiful woman marrying a much older man for his money. His family had fought long and hard, and in vain, to have his will changed before he even died. The respirator measured out his unconscious breaths, slowly and deliberately, while his children argued, frantically and greedily, over his wealth.  And through it all, Jillian had insisted that they truly loved each other, and that was all that mattered.

There was no doubt that she was beautiful. Blond and blue, with the tall and slender frame of a model, Jillian fit the part of the money grubbing, soulless bitch intent on stealing the heart of an old millionaire, and then stealing his money.

But I had always believed her. She was so gentle with him, so loving. I didn’t know how that could possibly have been all a show – not for me anyway. We had been friends for so many years, decades actually, and we had no secrets.

At least, that’s what I thought. But watching her leaning there, staring at me, her fingers brushing over the expensive triple strand of genuine pearls around her neck, I felt the smallest seed of doubt creep in

She smiled a bit, breaking the strange, strained silence between us, and whispered, “I miss him.” And I believed her.