Chapters (48)
- Cover
- Praise
- About the Author
- Also by Tricia Stringer
- Title Page
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgements
- Excerpt
- One
“Of course. She’s got such a sweet tooth and…cheesecake was always Pa’s favourite.”
Kate watched her mum walk stiffly across the kitchen. It was as if a stranger had taken over her body. Kate wanted to shake her, ask what had become of her mum, the warm welcoming woman who took everything in her stride, dished out love in spadefuls and took on board anything that came along.
Natalie took the cheesecake from the oven, set it on a wire rack to cool and turned back to Kate. “It’s a baked cheesecake served with berry coulis and cream. I haven’t made it for years.” Then she spun on her heel and left the kitchen.
Kate clutched her cup in the hope the warmth would be some kind of steadying presence while her mother’s cup sat cooling on the table.
Ten
Ten
Natalie closed the bedroom door, leaned against it and stared at her dressing-table drawer as if it would open of its own accord. It couldn’t, of course. The same way the contents of a book couldn’t control your life. She left her position against the door, strode to the dressing table and wrenched open the drawer. The Model Wife still rested innocently where she’d left it. She snatched it up and flicked the pages open to Chapter Three. ‘Parents’. The model wife respects and cares for her husband’s parents and should put their needs before those of her own parents and herself.
The first time Nat met Milt’s parents it was a hot Saturday night in February, after tennis. Milt and his team had won that day, guaranteeing a place in the finals. There’d been plenty of congratulatory drinks and then he’d told her his parents had invited her for dinner. It had only been three weeks since they’d met but Natalie had already fallen in love with him.
“I’ll have to go home and change,” she wailed. She was wearing a skimpy summer dress that she’d been in all day and she was hot and sweaty, her make-up all melted away.
“No time,” Milt said. His eyes were bright from too many beers and he swept her to the car with his big strong arm around her. “We’re already late.”
“Oh, Milt,” she wailed again. She could deal with a class of twenty-eight six-year-olds but she was suddenly terrified of meeting his parents.
“They’re used to me coming home like this after tennis.”
She wasn’t sure if by ‘like this’ he meant dishevelled and sweaty, or with a few too many drinks under his belt or both.
“Are you sure they invited me?”
“Of course. It was the last thing Mum said as I went out the door this morning. She’s cooking a roast.”
“Why didn’t you warn me?”