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Back The Model Wife Save as PDF
Chapters (48)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. About the Author
  4. Also by Tricia Stringer
  5. Title Page
  6. Dedication
  7. One
  8. Two
  9. Three
  10. Four
  11. Five
  12. Six
  13. Seven
  14. Eight
  15. Nine
  16. Ten
  17. Eleven
  18. Twelve
  19. Thirteen
  20. Fourteen
  21. Fifteen
  22. Sixteen
  23. Seventeen
  24. Eighteen
  25. Nineteen
  26. Twenty
  27. Twenty-One
  28. Twenty-Two
  29. Twenty-Three
  30. Twenty-Four
  31. Twenty-Five
  32. Twenty-Six
  33. Twenty-Seven
  34. Twenty-Eight
  35. Twenty-Nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-One
  38. Thirty-Two
  39. Thirty-Three
  40. Thirty-Four
  41. Thirty-Five
  42. Thirty-Six
  43. Thirty-Seven
  44. Thirty-Eight
  45. Author’s Note
  46. Acknowledgements
  47. Excerpt
  48. One

She’d slid down in the bed, her arms rigidly at her sides. Milt got his rest, that was for sure. Wide awake, her own light still on, she’d gone back over the evening and Jack’s conversation, his face and the way his gaze had kept returning to Laura. Several times she’d almost tapped Milt’s shoulder, to wake him and ask him outright but then she’d drag her hand back. If he said Jack was his son, what then? Could they just go on as normal? She was terrified she couldn’t answer that question. Finally Natalie had eased back the covers and sat up. That’s when she’d taken the book from her dresser drawer. It was as if it was taunting her. She’d glanced at Milt, still gently snoring, and flipped it open.

Chapter Two stood out in dark print at the top of the page and below that, ‘Friends are Welcome.’ The model wife should accept her husband’s friends and receive them in her home. Twenty-seven years ago she’d written NO in bold letters, underlined it several times and then in very small print as if too afraid for it to be easily read she’d written but not into your husband’s bed.

Stuck on the page beside it was a photo of their tennis court. Veronica and Bob stood at the front beside Milt and Natalie, everyone smiling. She remembered the fun they’d had that day. It had been the last time the Kings had hosted a social tennis match – a month before the glitch.

She gripped her mouth with one hand. Why was she torturing herself with this now? She shook her head at her own silent question but she knew the truth. Somehow she’d forgiven Milt his indiscretion, they’d moved on and made a decent life, but today, when she’d seen Jack Halbot, she knew that the life they’d rebuilt together had been founded on a lie. Jack was so like Milt he had to be his son, and the very thought of it made her feel sick.

She sat, eyes closed, gripping the book in her hands until she was startled by a particularly deep snort from Milt. He made some snuffling noises then flung himself onto his side, his face towards her. She reached out and flicked off the lamp and a new resolve flowed through her. She had three daughters, Milt’s daughters, and they were not going to be displaced by a son from the other side of the quilt. Tomorrow she would have it out with Milt and they’d plan a way forward, one which involved keeping their distance from the Halbots…all of them…and a holiday would be the perfect place to start.

Nine

Nine