The Secretive Wife (More Than a Wife Series Book 2) Page 4

  They both looked amazing. Sam had gotten a new shorter haircut that really made her dark curls standout. It was sexy and fun, and she had been exercising like crazy. She said she needed to get naked skinny. I would say mission accomplished. I was certain Reed didn’t care; he would take her in any shape or form. And by the way she was glowing, I had my aforementioned suspicions. Avery had just finished her third marathon and was looking fierce and fit with her blonde ponytail. She didn’t look old enough to have a senior in high school this year. You would never see me running a marathon unless my mother-in-law was chasing me with a sharp object. Maybe I should start training now.

  “I’m sorry I’m a little late.” I placed the bag of food on Avery’s desk where we always ate. Right before I left, my assistant, Fiona, had asked for a teaser from the new book they could post on Autumn Moone’s site. She also sent me a mock-up of the cover. I didn’t love it and made suggestions.

  “No worries.” Sam was taking containers out of the bag. “I know how busy you are, but I need your expert advice again.”

  I took a seat at the desk and grabbed my strawberry avocado salad, trying to remember to smile and relax. I knew I would never be the amazing mom and wife they both were, but they had accepted me even though I was younger, unbridled, and at times prickly. I didn’t mean to be. It was a defense mechanism. But despite all of that, they liked me, even loved me and valued my opinions.

  “What can I help you with?” I asked Sam.

  Sam took the seat next to me while Avery sat across from us.

  Sam blew out a heavy sigh. “I’ve had an interesting offer come my way.”

  “More interesting than being a pinup girl in Fabulous over Forty?” She had even had an offer for a Real Housewives type show based in Chicago.

  Avery and Sam both snorted.

  “Maybe not that interesting,” Sam snickered, “but almost as scary as posing nude.”

  My interest was piqued.

  Sam took another deep breath. “One of the producers for Weekend Musings contacted me. At first, I assumed it was because they said as soon as my cookbook came out they would ask me on again. But,” she paused, “they want me to be a regular contributor,” she almost squealed.

  Avery must have already known, as she didn’t react other than to pop some watermelon in her mouth. The news didn’t surprise me either. Her first appearance on the Saturday morning show was a smashing success. The hosts, Marla and Manny, ate her up. And like I said, Sam was hilarious and her new cookbook coming out in two weeks, Glorified Cookie Recipes and More, was going to be a hit. Sam had given me an advance copy, not because I would use any of the recipes, but because she was excited about it. Her wise words were sprinkled throughout, and the pictures of each recipe were stunning. I was proud to say I had contributed to that. Sam had shown me some initial drafts and they were trying too hard by embellishing each picture of food with plants, ribbons, and other things that didn’t belong on food, at least I was pretty sure they didn’t belong. I suggested to Sam that clean and simple was always best and it would take away from the message of the book if left as is. She mentioned it to her editors, who my editor may or may not know, and they changed it.

  “What did you tell them?” I asked.

  She pressed her lips together. “I told them I was flattered, but I would have to think about it.”

  “And what do you think?” I smiled.

  “Tell me what to think,” she begged.

  No way was I doing that. She was a smart woman, and this was her choice. “What does Reed think?” I asked instead.

  “Of course he thinks she should do it,” Avery jumped in. “I do too, for that matter.”

  Sam gave Avery a smile that said you aren’t helping me.

  “What are your concerns?” I stabbed a strawberry with my fork.

  “Looking like a fool in front of everyone about sums it up.”

  “The odds of that are extremely low based on your last appearance.” I tilted my head and studied her for a moment. “What are you really afraid of?”

  Sam dropped her plastic fork; her gray eyes bore into my own. “How do you read people so well?”

  That was a long answer rooted in being left alone a lot growing up. Other people’s lives became my focus. People on the bus, people in the shelter, people at school. I wondered what each of their stories were. Did they, too, wish for a life other than the one they had? Did they have real moms and dads? How did they end up where they were? Couples particularly fascinated me. That should have told me something. I was drawn to their interactions. Small touches and gestures, stolen glances, cold shoulders, and awkward conversations. During high school and college, I excelled at predicting who would hook up and who would break up, except when it came to myself. The one time I was wrong, did it ever cost me. My mind shut down that train of thought, just like I had conditioned it to.

  I tucked some of my curls behind my ear. “It’s all in your body language.”

  “Is it screaming how scared I am that I can do this?”

  I tilted my head with an understanding smile. “The fear of success can be worse than failure.”

  “Yes,” Sam lamented. “I feel like someone hit the fast-forward button on my life this past year and I haven’t had time to catch up or process. A year ago, I had a different last name and I was barely showering every day.”

  “Now you’re changing your name again and you’re happier than you’ve ever been.”

  “Samantha Cassidy does have a ring to it.” She blushed while staring down at her sparkling engagement ring. “Sometimes I wonder if this is all a dream.”

  I could relate to Sam on so many levels. I stared down at my ring finger that was empty by choice. Peter and I had no money for rings when we got married and now that we had more money than we knew what to do with, I found I didn’t need the symbol. Peter was woven into my soul. I’d suggested tattoos with each other’s names around our wedding fingers, but Peter wasn’t too fond of that idea. I still might do it someday. Add it to my Peter collection. His name sat nicely inscribed in a crescent moon on the small of my back already. But there were times I wondered how I’d gotten here and if it would last. Not only did I feel like an impostor in my career, but in my marriage too.

  So much of my life wasn’t how I imagined it would be. Growing up, I’d never had dreams of getting married and having children. My own mother, Cat, warned me against it on several occasions. She said she was lucky Ron never stole her identity. When I told her Peter and I were trying to have a baby a few months ago, she implored me to wait until I was at least forty. She said I owed it to myself to have a career first because I may not be so fortunate as to have such a self-sufficient child like I had been. I think it was her way of thanking me for not ruining her life. Because of her, I feared what kind of mother I would be. Peter had no doubt I would be a good mother. He said one of the reasons he fell in love with me was because of the way I loved and fiercely protected the students at the school where we met. And he said I never smiled so big as when our foundation received cute little thank-you letters written in crayon thanking us for the new shoes. Maybe, just maybe, my husband was right about me.

  But we may never know. I inadvertently held my angry womb that was cramping. Stupid period started this morning.

  “You deserve all of this,” Avery said to Sam, making me look up and focus back on the present.

  I nodded in agreement. We’d all watched her go through hell and back when she found out that Neil was cheating on her and having a baby with another woman.

  “Do you want to take this job?” I asked.

  Sam bit her lip. “I do, but . . .”

  “No buts,” I cut her off, “offers like this don’t come every day, and this is perfect for you and your platform.”

  “But,” she wasn’t going to let this go, “I’d have to quit my job here,” she whispered. My father-in-law was in his office. He was doing more office work now since he’d strained his back a few
months ago. He never came out when we got together for lunch. Too much femaleness for him, he said.

  “We can hire a payroll service,” Avery suggested, “And I can take over invoicing.”

  Sam still didn’t look convinced. “It’s early on Saturday and football season will be starting soon, so I’ll be up late every Friday night for a few months.”

  Both Avery and I laughed at her.

  Avery tossed a balled-up napkin at her. “You’re going to need a better excuse than that.”

  Sam caught the napkin and shook her head at herself. “I know I’m grasping for straws here, but this is a big deal.”

  I rested my hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It is, but so are you.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Where would I be without you two?”

  “Probably grocery shopping or making out with Reed all day long,” Avery teased.

  Sam grinned while a little sigh escaped her.

  If only I could use Sam’s grocery shopping stories with Reed in my books. My fans would eat that up. I had to hand it to Reed, anybody who could make grocery shopping sound sexy had a gift. And there was no one who deserved that present more than Sam.

  I took a bite of my salad and swallowed before asking Sam, “So, what will you be doing on the show?”

  Her gray eyes lit up. “It sounds like I’ll do a cooking segment using recipes from my cookbook while talking about fun things like perimenopause, coping with life after divorce, raising teenagers, you know, fun stuff like that.” She grinned. “Oh, and my favorite books. We all know who’s at the top of my list. Speaking of which, I re-read Black Day Dawning again. I can’t get over how good it is.”

  “Me too,” Avery squealed.

  All I could do was pop a strawberry in my mouth.

  Chapter Four

  I did something I normally wouldn’t. I bought a sugar cookie for my father-in-law when I picked up lunch. I knew they were his favorite. I’d hidden it in my bag in case I chickened out giving it to him or if I decided I really needed it for myself. However, because I ate cereal on a regular basis, I tried not to eat a lot of treats unless Peter brought me my favorite candy, sour cherry jelly beans.

  While Avery and Sam went back to work, I braved walking to Joseph’s office toward the back. I could feel Avery and Sam stare after me. Everyone knew I was the least favorite Decker and how tenuous my relationship had been with my in-laws. Again, I played a part in it. But in my defense, I tried really hard at the beginning. I moved here expecting to love my in-laws and for them to love me based on Peter’s endorsement. It was false advertising at its worst. From the moment Sarah laid eyes on me, I was enemy number one. Not only had I lured her baby away from one of the highest honors as far as she was concerned, I wasn’t even worthy to be in his presence.

  At first, I tried dressing more conservatively around her and letting her underhanded criticisms go without retaliation, but it only made me more miserable and caused tension in my marriage. If she couldn’t love me for who I wasn’t, she was never going to love me for who I was. That’s when the gloves came off. I never struck first, but I wasn’t one to let others walk all over me. If she made a rude comment about me, I hit her where it hurt most, my place in her son’s life. I kissed Peter more in front of his family than I’d ever anticipated, but it did the job. More than anything, she hated our united front, but that didn’t stop her from checking for chinks in the armor of our relationship on a regular basis. She was desperate to drive a wedge between us.

  But the fact of the matter was Peter loved his parents, and Joseph and Sarah might someday be the grandparents of my child. Despite how awful Sarah had been to me, she was an amazing grandma. I would never say that out loud or admit to it under torture, but she was. She was the kind of grandma who went to every track and cross-country meet and football game. Sarah was at every ballet and play Avery’s and James’s daughter, sweet Hannah, was in before she passed away. Sarah had pictures of her grandkids everywhere, and even the yellowed pictures they had drawn as toddlers were hanging on her refrigerator. She was as proud of those pictures today as I’m sure she was the day they were given to her.

  Joseph was right there with her. He was always one to play catch with the boys and he’d even let Hannah put makeup on him.

  I wanted them to both love my child the same way. It’s why I knocked on Joseph’s door.

  “Come in,” Joseph’s deep voice rang.

  With trepidation I twisted the knob and slowly opened the door.

  Joseph’s eyes were green like Peter’s and currently wide in surprise. “Delanie,” his voice sounded even more astonished. He stood up from behind his messy desk filled with stacks of paper and several old styrofoam coffee cups.

  “Hi . . . Joseph.” I was the only one to call him that. Everyone else called him Dad or Grandpa.

  I swore he peeked behind me to make sure Sarah wasn’t there before he asked, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  I reached into my bag and walked toward him, pulling out the frosted sugar cookie wrapped in plastic with a blue ribbon. “I brought Avery and Sam lunch and I know how much you like these,” I rambled, “so I bought you one.” I stretched out my hand over his desk, allowing him to reach for my tiny mend in a fortress of a fence that needed repair.

  Before he reached for the cookie, his eyes grabbed ahold of me, so much like Peter’s. It was the one physical attribute they shared. James was built more like his father, large and looming, though James was in much better shape, running marathons with his wife and all. Joseph had a beer belly and time showed on his sun-weathered face. But there was something in his countenance that was gentle like Peter’s.

  Joseph’s gaze continued as he gathered his words in the awkward silence. He took the cookie and cleared his throat. “Peter says you need some landscaping done in your backyard.”

  It wasn’t exactly the response I was looking for. Not that I knew what I hoped for. Maybe a, Hi, honey, the new ruby nose stud really suits you, or even a, how are you? But I could see the fear in his eyes behind the warmth.

  I stepped back. “We do.”

  Peter had felt stuck between a rock and a hard place about how we should proceed to landscape our backyard. He wanted to use the family business, but he didn’t want them to see the cost. On the other hand, he didn’t want his brother or dad to feel slighted that we hadn’t used them. Peter could do it by himself, but it would take forever, and his dad and brother would still feel bad in that scenario.

  The house and the money we had made Peter feel more uncomfortable than me. He had promised God at one time to live a simple life with few worldly possessions. Our house had very few possessions, but it was in and of itself very worldly. And obviously a sore point for some in his family. Cough, cough—his mother.

  But we only had sixty days after closing to finish the yard per the homeowners’ association’s guidelines, which meant we would have a very nice backyard when it was all said and done.

  Joseph gave me an uneasy smile. “I’ll take a look tomorrow night while we’re there and see what we can do.”

  “We appreciate that.” Disappointed we had nothing better than landscaping to talk about, I began to turn around. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

  “Delanie.”

  I had almost made it to the door. I turned back toward him.

  He held up the cookie. “Thank you.” A disheartened sigh came with the expression of gratitude.

  I felt the same way. “You’re welcome.” I opened the door.

  “You can . . . stop . . . by anytime.”

  I smiled to myself at the sentiment but felt a twinge of despair about how much bravery he had to exert to say it. I gave him a wave of acknowledgement while wondering if it would always be this way. And if my real family still lived on the moon.

  Spending time with Peter’s family was always good for writing. The hope and discouragement that punctuated each visit was the perfect blend of tension. I was able to channel it and pour it
into the several pages I wrote before I had to leave for the shelter and my class. My car was already packed with dozens of the biodegradable diapers I purchased online once a week. The UPS driver must have thought we had twenty kids or ran an orphanage. That thought had crossed our minds. Maybe someday when Autumn Moone didn’t rule our lives we could do something like that, or even be more hands-on running Sweet Feet. Since Autumn Moone was much more popular than me, she was the founder of the charity. Because of her, fans all over the world donated to the cause through her website.

  She also helped me spread the word about clean water. Autumn Moone had partnered with a fantastic organization run by a genius of a man who built sustainable water pumps for poor villages, mainly in third world countries. Anyone who donated could log in to their site and see, through GPS, exactly what their money was being used for.

  So maybe Autumn ran my life more than I liked, but I was thankful for her. She allowed Peter and me to do things we only dreamed of when we were first married.

  I rushed downstairs to grab my bag before heading out. I was surprised to hear the garage door open. I met my husband in the three-car garage that seemed too large for my small car and the company truck Peter drove. I’m sure our neighbors probably wondered why we weren’t driving expensive luxury cars like the rest of them. One of our neighbors we hadn’t met yet mistook me for a maid last week and asked what my rates were and if I was available to clean her house. I was so taken aback I said the first smart-aleck thing that came to my mind. “Sorry, I only sleep with the guy who lives here.” The spluttering and her red face were still giving me a lot of pleasure. I made sure to wave every time I saw her now. She, on the other hand, pretended she didn’t see me.

  I smiled from the steps leading into the garage.

  Peter exited his truck carrying a bag from a local toy store. He returned my smile. “I’m glad I caught you in time.” He rushed up the steps, dirty and sweaty, just the way I liked him, and planted a kiss squarely on my lips. “I missed you today.”