The English Wife. Doreen Roberts

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      I’d avoided looking directly at her until now. I didn’t need a mirror to know why she stared at me as if I’d grown horns. “I’ll tell you later,” I mumbled.

      “You’ll tell me now.” She looked at the slim gold watch on her wrist. “Come one, let’s go eat.”

      “But I just got here.”

      “Yes, and over lunch you can tell me what you’ve been doing all morning to destroy your face.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me up off the chair.

      She was used to getting her own way, and since she was my boss I didn’t waste time arguing with her. I followed her to the cafeteria, miserably aware that she would not be satisfied until she’d wrung every last detail out of me.

      CHAPTER 2

      When it had become obvious Brandon and I would not be blessed with children, I’d taken accounting classes at business school and for years I’d worked for my dentist until he retired.

      When I saw the ad for a bookkeeper at a new health club, I couldn’t resist applying. I did it to show Brandon he wasn’t in total control of my life, but after talking to Val, it seemed such a happy place compared to the long faces at the dentist’s office, and I was overjoyed when she hired me. Brandon, of course, was horrified.

      Over the six years I worked for Val I learned a lot about running a business, and ended up taking over most of the paperwork involved. Val was ten years younger than me and happily divorced, with alimony that would have paid my mortgage twice over. She kept trying to get me physically trained. I absolutely refused. Cramming my body into skintight clothes and bouncing around among all those nubile goddesses was not my idea of a good time. I’d never have a figure like Val’s, no matter how much I sweated and starved. I’d accepted that, even if Val wouldn’t.

      Seated opposite me at a vinyl covered table in the club’s cafeteria, she studied my face. “We should be in a bar with a bottle of good Scotch. You look as if you could use one.”

      The idea was tempting. “I’ve had a bad morning.” The understatement of the century, but I wasn’t ready to share my suspicions about my late husband’s activities just yet.

      All around me young women in tight outfits were battling to be heard above each other’s chatter. The babble did nothing to soothe my frayed nerves. The price I paid for a free lunch.

      I should have known I couldn’t fool Val. She pursed her perfectly outlined lips. “You’ve been doing so well up to now. Just tell me what happened.”

      Giving up hope of keeping the news to myself, I explained about the cottage and the mystery woman, though I left out all my suspicions. I guess I was hoping Val would dismiss the whole thing as insignificant.

      She’d never been blessed with tact. “Are you telling me Brandon had a mistress? God, I didn’t think he had it in him. Just goes to show you can’t tell a book—” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, God, Margie, I’m sorry. This must be tough on you. No wonder you look like crap. It’s hard enough to lose a husband, but to find out he’s been cheating on you…” Her voice trailed off, and tears of sympathy glistened in her gorgeous violet eyes.

      I was pretty sure the tears were genuine. Val could be as tough as nails about most things, but if you were a friend in need, she was there for you. To hear her confirm my misgivings almost wrecked the careful hold I had on my composure.

      Even so, for some unfathomable reason, I struggled to give Brandon the benefit of the doubt. “I don’t know that he cheated on me. There could be a dozen reasons why he let this woman live there rent-free.”

      “Yeah? Name one.”

      I groped for possibilities. “She could be a relative, or an important client.”

      “So why didn’t he tell you?”

      The hollow feeling I’d been fighting all morning invaded my stomach. I reached for the pepper shaker and sprinkled a liberal amount into my soup. “Okay, so I don’t know.”

      Val’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “Well, there’s one way to find out.”

      “How?”

      “By going there and confronting the bitch.”

      “Go to England? You’ve got to be kidding.”

      “Why not? At least you’d find out for sure what Brandon was up to, and England is supposed to be beautiful this time of year. All those yards in full bloom, boating on the lake, garden parties, afternoon teas, flower shows…” She clasped her hands and gazed up at the ceiling. “Fabulous. If I had an excuse to get out of Seattle for a while I’d be on the plane tomorrow.”

      “You watch too much TV.” I picked up my spoon and tasted the soup. It needed more pepper. “James told me that Miles End is a little fishing village on the southwest coast. It’s probably smelly, grubby and full of sweaty fishermen who haven’t looked at a shower in days. I’d have to stay in some smoky, grimy pub where I’d be kept awake half the night by the drunken brawls.”

      Val grinned. “Obviously we watch different movies. Seriously, though, Margie. Think about it. You actually own a cottage in England. What are you going to do with it?”

      I didn’t want to think about the cottage. Just the mention of it made me want to dig up Brandon and wring his deceiving neck. My voice was abrupt when I answered her. “Sell it, I guess. Get it out of my life. Forget it ever existed.”

      “Why don’t you just throw the bitch out and rent it.”

      I had to admit, the idea had merit. Then again, we were both jumping to conclusions. The poor woman could be totally innocent and have a perfectly legitimate reason for enjoying a rent-free existence.

      Just to torment me, snippets of items I’d read about well-heeled business men renting luxury penthouse suites for their paramours danced gleefully through my head.

      I banished them from my mind. For one thing, if what James said was true, my husband had not been that well-heeled. For another, why go to all that trouble and expense to buy a cottage in England, when surely it would have been cheaper to rent something in the U.S.?

      Something just didn’t fit, and much as I hated to acknowledge the fact, I was dying to get to the bottom of the mystery. On the other hand, to let Val know that was inviting an exhaustive campaign to send me over there. I definitely wasn’t ready for that.

      “No,” I said firmly. “I just want to get rid of the damn thing.” I pushed the soup away from me, picked up the long dessert spoon and jammed it into my mushy frozen yogurt.

      Val was not about to give up that easily. Once she got excited about an idea she refused to let go. “Well, then, if you’re going to sell it, wouldn’t it make sense to go over there to protect your interests? How do you know if you’re getting a fair price and that everything is aboveboard if you’re not there to keep an eye on the proceedings?”

      I sent her a look that I hoped conveyed my loathing for that idea. It was all very well for her to give me advice. After all, she was used to living on the edge. She met guys through the Internet and dated them. That sounded a tad risky to me, but Val’s favorite saying СКАЧАТЬ