by Jane Porter
“You’ve become a really good skier.”
“You taught me, and it only took sixteen years.”
“So you’re saying I’m a really bad teacher,” he teases.
“I’m saying you’re a very patient teacher.”
He smiles, and then his smile fades. I can see the moment the shadows return, his expression darkening, his eyes clouding. “What’s wrong, Nathan?”
He shakes his head, but I don’t accept that. “I can see something’s wrong. Talk to me. Please?”
“I went to my mom last October and asked for a loan.” He must see my surprise because he nods, grimaces. “I told her about our situation, told her how devastating it was for us to lose our house.”
“She said no.”
“No. She said yes.” He draws a breath. “She said she’d been waiting for this moment for fifteen years—“
“What?”
He makes a rough sound. “Mom said she knew I’d never be successful like my dad. Said the only thing I’m good at is making bad choices.”
“Your mom is evil.”
“And then she wrote out a check for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
“You didn’t take her money.”
“No. I’d have no self-respect then.” He pauses, reaches out to clasp my hand and tug me through the water toward him. “I wish I weren’t so proud, Taylor. You might still be living in the lap of luxury.”
I inhale as his chest brushes my breasts. “The lap of luxury was boring.”
His hands circle my waist, and he draws me between his legs. “Have I ever told you you’re one hot mama?”
“A couple times.”
His head dips, and he kisses me. “Maybe it’s time to tell you again.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back. It’s a long kiss, sexy as hell, and Nathan lifts his head only when another couple enters the hot tub.
“How about we try the outdoor pool?” I ask as the man splashes past us.
“Good idea.”
We climb out of the hot tub and duck through the plastic flaps that separate the inside from the outdoor pool. The pool is hot, the night is cold, and steam rises. A few people float in the darkness, and Nathan and I join them, floating silently side by side. As we float, it begins to snow, tiny flakes that grow until they’re huge white fluffy things falling harder and thicker from the sky.
With the shadow of the giant mountains in the distance and the hotel’s spires and turrets soaring above us, I think this is the most beautiful, magical moment of my life.
I’ve never loved Nathan as much as I do now, and I reach for him, feel his arms come around me, and together we watch the snow fall.
It’s all good. Life is good. Life is meant to be lived, and by God, we’re living it, every hour, every minute, every second.
It hurts, but it also heals, and as hard as this year has been, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I love my Nathan and my girls. I love my family. I love my life.
I even love me.
Marta and Luke’s wedding is held late in the afternoon in one of the huge historic rooms before a massive fireplace. She wears a surprisingly traditional gown, not the sexy satin sheath I would have imagined, and even her dark hair is pinned up in an elegant twist beneath a long lace veil.
Luke’s in a black tuxedo with a crisp white shirt and white bow tie. Eva is her mother’s only attendant and wears a dusty rose dress and holds a bouquet of beautiful roses and lilies, a smaller version of her mother’s bouquet. The ceremony isn’t long, but by the time it’s over nearly all the women are crying.
Marta’s crying.
I can understand why. She’s spent the past ten years thinking the world was one way, only to be surprised by Luke.
But isn’t that the way it should be? We should never think we know everything. We should never imagine we see the whole picture or know the whole story.
Life’s full of surprises. Life has to have those surprises or we’d be bored out of our minds. We’d fall asleep partway through and forget to really think and hope and love and feel.
I slide my hand into Nathan’s as the minister pronounces Marta and Luke husband and wife. Nathan squeezes my hand and points out the wall of windows toward the valley. It’s snowing again, big fat feathery flakes. Goose bumps cover my arms.
I feel. I feel. I feel.
A half hour later, the cocktail party is in full swing in the Rundle Lounge. Dinner isn’t for another couple of hours, so the appetizers are plentiful and the drinks flow freely. Marta and Luke are in and out of the second-floor lounge, taking pictures with Eva and various family members.
Nathan and I are sitting in the huge picture window, where the snow-covered valley is framed by jagged granite peaks. It has to be the most beautiful view in the entire hotel, and I’m so happy I’m here with Nathan and a flute of unbelievably good champagne.
As we sit at our window table, Nathan’s phone rings. He reaches into his coat pocket to silence the ringer but stops when he notices the numbers. “It’s a 206 area code.”
“That’s Seattle. Could be the kids.”
“I better take it.” He walks away from our table to find a quieter spot on the lower level. He’s gone a long time, so long that I’m beginning to think there might be a problem. But then he returns and sits across from me at our window table, signaling for a waiter and ordering us two more glasses of champagne.
“That was interesting,” he says as the waiter walks away.
“Interesting as in good, or interesting as in . . . ?”
“Good.”
I look at Nathan a long time, and he’s got half a dozen more lines in his face than he did last year at this time—a deep wrinkle in his forehead, another between his eyebrows, and short but deep creases at his eyes—yet he looks more handsome than I’ve seen him in a long, long time. “I love you.”
“Why?”
I open my mouth, but the only answer that comes to me is, “You’re mine.”
“It hasn’t been easy.”
My shoulders lift. “It’s been a tough year. But it’s getting better.”
He reaches out and covers my hand with his. “It’s going to keep getting better, too.”
“I know it is.”
“I do, too.”
There’s a light in his eye, a sheen I haven’t seen there for a very long time. It’s as if someone’s flipped a switch and turned something on.
“So tell me about this interesting call.”
Deep grooves form on either side of his mouth. “I’ve been offered a job.”
“Fantastic!”
“But it’s not in Bellevue.”
My expression falls. For a moment I can’t speak, too bitterly disappointed. “I thought you wanted to be back in Bellevue.”
“I do.” He hesitates. “But this is a pretty exciting position, and the salary is amazing. There’d be a huge signing bonus, too.”
“That’s good.”
“Very good.”
“So where is the job?”
He takes a deep breath. “Sydney.”
“Sydney?”
“I’d head Hal-Perrin Technology’s Australia office.”
My mouth dries up. I can’t even imagine moving halfway across the world. Leave the United States to live overseas? Raise our kids in a foreign country? “Wow.”
“I know. Pretty huge.”
“How huge?”
“The salary and bonus package would double what I was earning at McKee.”
“That’s some serious money.”
“I know. My thoughts are going a mile a minute.”
But as I look at him, he doesn’t look troubled, he looks thrilled, like a kid who got his first bike for Christmas. Nathan’s excited. He’s got that light in his eyes, the confident, sexy glint that has always made me believe in him. “What did you tell them?”
“I told them I needed to visit the Sydney office, meet with the different executives
and staff there before I could give them an answer.”
“That’s smart.”
He covers my hand with both of his. “I also told them I needed you to come with me. I couldn’t take a job if you weren’t comfortable—”
“Nathan—”
“I mean it, Taylor. I won’t ever take another job without talking about it with you first. You mean too much to me. You’re not just my wife, you’re my best friend, and I need you on my side.”
“I am on your side.”
He reaches across the table to brush a tendril of hair back from my face. “Do you feel like making a trip to Sydney with me? They’re flying us first-class. Will put us up for a week at a five-star hotel right next to the Harbor Bridge.”
My heart’s thumping, and it has less to do with the first-class tickets than Nathan’s happiness. I love this man. “Yes.”
“We’ll look at neighborhoods, check out schools, meet some of the Hal-Perrin executives, their wives and families. Most are Australian, although they’ve got a couple of engineers from India and some marketing people from London and Auckland. But there’s no pressure, Taylor, none at all. If this isn’t the right job, another one will come along.”
“I promise to go with an open mind.”
He leans across the table, kisses me. “I love your mind. And your courage.” He kisses me again. “And your creativity.” He gives me one last kiss, a slow, lingering kiss. “Not to mention your very sexy body.”
I grin at him. He’s given my body some very nice attention this trip.
Not that I wouldn’t like some more.
“Do you think anyone will notice if we sneak out? Head up to our room?” he asks huskily.
I look up, glance around, catch Marta’s eye. She and Luke have just returned from more photos, and Marta’s smiling at me.
“No,” I answer, gathering my small silver clutch. “Let’s sneak out while we can.”
About the Author
I love being a mom. I’ve wanted to be a mom since I was a little girl. But that doesn’t mean I always do it right. Sometimes I feel as if I’ve inadvertently enrolled my boys in the Jane Porter School of Big Mistakes and Lots of Trial and Error. Fortunately, they’re still alive and, even better, thriving.
When Odd Mom Out was first published in September 2007 a lot of folks, including my Bellevue neighbors, assumed Marta was me. The truth is, I am as much Taylor as I am Marta. Like all women, I’m fierce and fragile, hopeful and fearful, sunlight and shadow.
I loved writing Odd Mom Out and Mrs. Perfect because I was able to get inside the heads of what appear to be very different women, and yet once I started scratching at the surface, I discovered that Marta and Taylor weren’t so different. Like all moms, they’re both passionate about their children, their purpose, and the future.
These last four years writing my novels for 5 Spot have been among the happiest of my life. I am very blessed with wonderful children, fulfilling work, and people I love who love me and support me in return. As I’ve learned, life isn’t about waiting for good things to happen but making good things happen.
Seize life. Love fully. Live joyfully.
For more on Mrs. Perfect and my 5 Spot novels, visit me at www.janeporter.com.
5 WAYS TO KNOW YOU’RE MRS. PERFECT
1 You volunteer for everything because no one else volunteers.
2 You hate relinquishing control because you can do the job better than anyone else.
3 You wouldn’t dream of showing up late for Back-to-School Night.
4 You know when your kids’ reports are due, even if they don’t.
5 Your Christmas cards are already addressed and stamped by December 1.
