Mrs. Perfect

“I know something juicy,” Monica chimes in eagerly.

I shoot Patti a “here we go again” look. Monica Tallman irritates me. She isn’t poor, and she’s not unattractive, but she’s pathetically insecure and compensates for her feelings of inferiority by trying too hard.

The truth is, Monica needs a life. And she needs to stop copying my hairstyle.

Monica throws a hand into her hair, showing off her most recent highlights, which are nearly identical to mine. “The Wellsleys separated this summer,” she announces loudly.

“The Wellsleys?” Kate gasps.

Monica nods, sips her wine cooler, pleased to be the bearer of horrible news. “Apparently Lucy was having an affair.”

“What?” We all turn, shocked, to stare at Monica.

Patti frowns, a deep furrow between dark eyebrows. At least I know she doesn’t do Botox. “I don’t believe it,” she says. “I can’t believe it. Lucy would never do that. I’ve known her for years—”

“She’s on the altar guild at St. Thomas,” Kate adds.

Monica shrugs, lips curving. “Jesus loves a sinner.”

Unbelievable. I drain the rest of my gin and tonic and immediately crave another. Too bad I can’t send one of my girls for the drink, but they don’t sell liquor to minors here.

Monica gives her wine cooler a twirl. “Pete’s going after custody.”

“No.” Now this is going too far. It really is. I know Lucy, too, and she’s a great mother, a good wife, and it would destroy her not to have the kids. Kids need to be with their mother, too.

Well, unless their mother’s a nutcase.

Like mine was.

“Pete thinks he’s got a case.” Monica sounds smug.

I hate it when she’s so smug. I really think she needs to work out with her personal trainer a bit less and volunteer a lot more.

“You can’t take children from their mother,” I defend. “Courts don’t do that. I know it for a fact. Are you sure she’s having an affair?”

“I imagine it’s over now that Pete found out, but Pete’s embarrassed. He paid for her lipo, the implants, the tummy tuck, the eye job, the laser skin treatments, and now he finds out it wasn’t even for him? Fifty thousand later he feels a little cheated.”

Patti’s outraged. “Lucy didn’t even need the work. She did it for him. He’s never been happy, especially with her.”

I nod my head in agreement. Lucy was really attractive, even before all the surgeries, and you know, you couldn’t tell she had that much work done because it was subtle. We knew, because she’d told us, highly recommending her plastic surgeon to us. And in the plastic surgeon’s defense, he was very, very good, and the only way I knew Lucy had done her eyes (before we knew about the plastic surgery) was because she just looked happier.

Apparently, she was happier.

She was getting laid by someone who wasn’t her fat husband.

That’s not a nice thought, and I shouldn’t think thoughts like that, but Pete is big. He’s gained at least thirty-five or forty pounds in the last year or so. Maybe more. When I saw him at brunch a couple of weeks ago, I almost didn’t recognize him. Nathan, who never notices anything like that, leaned over to me and said Pete was a heart attack waiting to happen.

Did that stop Pete from filling up his plate at the buffet? No. In fact, he went back for seconds and thirds—piles of sausages, cream cheese Danishes, eggs Benedict, blueberry-and-sour-cream crepes, strawberries covered in whipped cream. You could hear his arteries hardening as he lumbered back to his table.

I can’t blame Lucy if she didn’t want to sleep with Pete. I wouldn’t want to eat with him, much less do the down and dirty, but an affair . . . ?

I wonder if the sex was good.

God, I hope it was, especially if she’s going to lose the kids.

Shaking my empty glass, I listen to the ice cubes rattle. I want another drink but can’t make myself move. Not just because I’m tired (which I am), but because if I go get another drink, it’s more calories.

I weigh the pros and cons of another drink, knowing that I’m in good shape, but it’s something I work at. Image is important, and the closer I get to forty (oh God), the more I care about my appearance. It’s not enough to be fit. You’ve got to look young, and that’s some serious time and money.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about getting some work done. Nathan says he loves me as I am, thinks I’m perfect, and doesn’t want any artificial bits of me, but if it’d make me better, wouldn’t the pain be worth it?

I tune back in and realize they’re still discussing Lucy and Peter.

“—says he feels like she humiliated him in front of the whole community.”

“Well, I didn’t know until now,” Kate says.

Me either, and my fingers itch to take my phone and call Nathan and see if he’s heard. He used to be in Rotary with Pete. They were both in the Friday morning group that met for breakfast at the golf course across town.

Patti’s frowning. “She’s like us, a stay-at-home mom. So who could she be sleeping with? A UW student? A pool boy? Who?”

“Someone’s husband.” Monica looks like a cat. She’s so pleased with herself that even her ears and eyes are smiling. “Apparently Pete has told the wife, too, and so that’s two families wrecked.”

Wrecked.

The very word conjures up horrible memories, and I suddenly touch my stomach, checking to see if it’s flat. It is. I can feel my hipbones. Good.

The thing to know about me is that I hate fat almost as much as inefficiency, which is why I’m always hungry. I want to eat, but I don’t. Nathan thinks I’m too thin, but he doesn’t know what it’s like always having women look at you, compare themselves with you.

“So where is Lucy now?” I ask.

“I think she’s still in the house. Pete tried to kick her out—and she left for a couple nights—but she returned. Said she wouldn’t leave, that it was her home, so Pete took the kids and left.” Monica stretches, yawns. “God, it’s a gorgeous day. Can you believe this beautiful weather?”

Kate and Patti exchange glances. “So where are Pete and the kids staying?” Kate persists.

“Their place in Sun River.”

But they’ve got to be coming back soon. School starts on Tuesday, and Pete has to work.

Those poor kids. They must be so scared and confused.

I look around the pool for mine. My girls are just yummy. I really shouldn’t brag, but all three are beautiful—you can tell they’re sisters, they all have the same golden skin, long honey blond hair, and big blue eyes. People are always stopping me, telling me the girls should be models. Maybe they will be. I don’t know. We’re just so busy as it is.

“Mom! Mommy!” Tori wails tragically at the edge of the grass, her big beach towel bunched at her feet, her paper plate upside down in her hands. “I dropped my French fries!”

I sigh. My friends chuckle. They know what it’s like, they know what I’m going through. “Go get some more,” I call to her. “They’ll remember you at the counter.”

“Come with me,” she pleads.

“You can do it. Besides, Brooke’s still over there. Catch her before she leaves. Tell her Mommy said to—” But before I can finish, Tori’s running past me.

“Daddy!” she screams, rushing toward Nathan, who has just appeared at the pool.

Smiling, I watch Nathan swing Tori into his arms. We’ve been married eleven years, twelve on Valentine’s Day, and I still think I married the sexiest, greatest man. It’s not just because he has money, either. We’re happy. We have a great life together. I’m lucky. Blessed. Really and truly.

Nathan’s a wonderful father and an amazing provider. You should see our home—as a little girl, I dreamed of someday living in a house like ours—and our three little girls are gorgeous, and Nathan spoils all of us. Constantly. So much so that I feel a little guilty sometimes.

“There’s my beautiful wife,” Nathan says

, walking toward us with Tori still in his arms.

Nathan is a vice president for Walt McKee’s personal holding company, McKee being the founder of satellite communications, and that’s the name of the game here in Seattle: technology. Bill Gates, Paul Allen, Steve Balmer, and Walt McKee are all practically neighbors and if not close friends, acquaintances. I’m not trying to name-drop, it’s just that this is my world, the one I live in. I see the Gateses and McKees and the Balmers everywhere. Our kids play together on the same sports teams, dance at the same ballet studios, swim at the same country club pool, and sometimes attend the same school.

Nathan leans down and kisses me before turning to greet my friends. In the late afternoon light, he looks even more golden than usual, his brown hair sun streaked from swimming, surfing, and playing golf, his warm brown eyes almost bronze. I think he’s more handsome now than when I first met him.

“Hello, honey,” I answer, reaching out to capture his fingers. “How was your day?”

“Good.” He shifts Tori to his other arm, oblivious that Tori’s damp little body has left his shirt wet as well as stained with a splatter of ketchup.

Tipping my head back, I smile up at him. “I didn’t think I’d see you for another hour or two.”

“Escaped early.” He puts Tori down, glances around. “I see Jemma. Where’s Brooke?”

“Eating something somewhere,” I answer.