“Read it out.”

“No. You don’t want to know. If you want my advice, you’ll delete all your personal social media accounts.”

“I don’t have any social media accounts.”

“Good decision.” Nessa carried on scrolling, her expression alternating between disgust and surprise.

Joanna sighed. “That bad?”

Nessa hesitated. “There are a few decent people out there. People saying a death is always sad. And some of the comments are pretty neutral, wondering who the woman was...” She sneaked a look at Joanna.

“I don’t know.”

“Of course you don’t. Why would you? You’re divorced from him. Whoever she is, I bet she’s wishing now she’d got into a car with a different guy. I mean, we’ve all had bad dates, but that—” Nessa shrugged, took a gulp of water and continued scrolling. “Some people are wondering if this will mean the end of the business. Will it?” She glanced up. “The business is called Cliff’s. And Chef Cliff is—” She stopped.

Joanna sat down opposite her. “Dead.”

Chef Cliff was dead.

But Nessa was right. It would affect the business. The business they’d built together. She’d given up on their marriage, but she hadn’t given up on that. It was their baby. She’d nurtured it and watched it grow.

She felt a pang, thinking of the actual baby she’d lost. Would her priorities have been different if she’d had a child? Her life? Her marriage? She used to think it might have been. She used to blame herself for everything that was wrong between them. But that was before.

Her phone rang again and Nessa glanced at her.

“Do you want me to answer that?”

“No.”

“It might be a friend.”

If she said I don’t have any real friends Nessa would feel sorry for her, and Joanna didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for her. She wanted to protect the last fragile strands of her pride.

“If it is, then I’ll call them back.”

“It’s probably a reporter.”

“Yes, and I’m not talking to them.”

Her heart rate increased. Of all the bad things about being married to Cliff—and there had been many—the media attention had been the worst. Cliff himself had been emotionally bulletproof. Whatever the media had accused him of he’d laugh, wink, give them a “No comment” or a “Let’s focus on what happens in the kitchen, not the bedroom.” And for some reason Joanna had never understood, his bad behavior had increased his appeal. He’d been shocking, but supremely watchable. His TV ratings had risen. He’d been unapologetic about his colorful personal life, so sure that his charm would ultimately guarantee him forgiveness for all his misdeeds that it had been impossible to shame or embarrass him.

Joanna, however, had been continually shamed and embarrassed. It was an irony that she’d escaped life in a small town, where her every action had been scrutinized and criticized, only to find the situation magnified a thousand times here.

She’d always loathed being the subject of attention and gossip, whereas Cliff had hungered for the limelight—and not only because it had been essential to building his brand. If attention had been a large pie, he would have greedily devoured the whole thing without offering her a sliver.