An Ideal Wife (5 page)

Project Ideal Wife.

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. Max thought I was perfect; I knew I wasn’t. Not at all. So I would make myself perfect. I would learn to cook; I would work in soup kitchens; I would be the most thoughtful, considerate, devoted person in the whole wide world. And maybe, just maybe, if I could be perfect in every single way apart from what had happened with Hugh, then that sordid incident would be so insignificant in the scheme of perfection that it would barely even exist anymore. It would be like one drop of poison in a whole sea of freshwater; it would disappear, would be diluted into oblivion. And when I told Max about it, he would think it was insignificant, too.

The more I thought about it, the more I knew I had to do it. I owed it to Max, owed it to us. And I was hardly a stranger to self-improvement plans—or, rather, self-reinvention plans. When I’d thought that marrying Anthony Milton was the only option open to me, I’d been about the least likely candidate for his attentions:
a mousy workaholic who had no experience with (or interest in) men. And Helen and Ivana had whipped me up into a total fox who knew how to dress, how to wear her hair, and, importantly, how to flirt. Of course, the one person my transformation hadn’t impressed was Max, but that was one of the reasons I loved him so much—he loved me for who I was, not because I’d learned how to do a flicky thing with my hair. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that I’d transformed from workaholic mouse to flirtatious vamp in the space of about three days. So I could totally transform myself into the perfect wife. And it would be much easier, because I
wanted
to do it. This time I would be doing it for the person I loved more than anything else in the whole wide world.

“Jess, you do know that creating a dynamic atmosphere is as much about building relationships as it is about”—Anthony peered over at my computer—“project-planning computer programs.”

“There’s nothing wrong with project plans,” I said, turning my screen slightly so he couldn’t see it. “They help organize things.”

“Do you like project planning, Caro?” Anthony asked, leaning over her like a boa constrictor evaluating its prey.

“Yes, actually, I …” Caroline said, but Anthony wasn’t listening.

“Never could understand them, myself,” he continued, “but then again, when you’re creative, things like project plans just fence you in, put up walls where you don’t need them.”

I counted to ten. “Creative people also use them,” I said tightly.

“Do they?” Anthony asked innocently, then looked at me, wide-eyed. “Oh, I see. You mean you? You think you’re creative? Really?”

“Jess is very creative,” Caroline said immediately, rushing to my defense.

“That’s one word for it,” Anthony said silkily.

I stared at him impatiently. “Anthony, is there something you want? Because if there isn’t, I’d appreciate it if you’d bugger off.”

He laughed. “Matter of fact, there is. Do you know anything about an ethical audit? Max was blathering about it earlier, and I have to confess I stopped listening after about a second—you know what he’s like when he gets going.…” I met his eyes stonily. “No, maybe you don’t,” he said, grinning to himself. “Anyway, suffice it to say I didn’t catch what it’s all about and was hoping you could fill me in. He wants to hold a company meeting or something, and I really can’t be bothered listening to him talk about it again.”

“You should,” I said, turning back to my computer uncomfortably as I remembered the audit. “Because you could be in trouble. Chester wants to head up the perfect company full of perfect people. And that includes his partner companies, like us. So we’re going to be audited. He wants to check that everyone who works for him is whiter than white. You know, trustworthy.” I looked up at him meaningfully, telling myself that the auditor wouldn’t be interested in kisses in bars but in important stuff like fraud and embezzlement. And, anyway, Anthony was way worse than me. He didn’t even know the meaning of the word “ethical.” “If I were you, I’d start looking for somewhere else to pretend to work. I think the idea is that we have a blemish-free workforce.”

“Blemish-free?” Anthony raised an eyebrow. “Sounds terribly dull.”

“I think that sounds amazing,” Caroline said, her eyes widening. “Jerome D. Rutter says that trust is the foundation of everything. He says paring back to the basics makes you realize whom and what you can trust.”

“Well, there you go,” I said.

“Don’t worry about me,” Anthony said, straightening up, his eyes twinkling now. “It’ll be a questionnaire, I bet. I’m very good at questionnaires. By the time I’m finished with mine, they’ll be nominating me for the Nobel Prize. Or at least offering me a commendation.”

“Sure they will,” I said, rolling my eyes. His confidence was shocking.

Anthony winked. “Just you wait,” he said, looking back over his shoulder as he walked toward his office.

“Is it true that clients really like Anthony?” Caroline asked, once he was out of earshot.

I shrugged. That’s what Max always said. And he was right—Anthony’s charm knew no bounds, could convince the hardest cynic to give business to Milton Advertising. But he still infuriated me. “He basically gets paid for flirting,” I said with a sigh. “And everyone else has to do the work.”

I turned back to my computer. Peace at last. Now my work could begin.

“Darling?”

I frowned. That sounded like …

“Darling! You shouldn’t hunch over your computer like that.”

“Mum?” I said incredulously. “Mum, what are you doing here? I’m working. And you’re meant to be in Wiltshire.” Mum was staying in my house in Wiltshire. The one Grace had left me in her will. Chester had asked her to move in several times but Mum insisted she needed her “own space” until they were actually married, not seeming to notice that Wiltshire wasn’t her “own” at all. I didn’t mind—at least my lovely house was being used by someone.

“I’m on my way to do the wedding list. Of course, Chester should be coming with me, but naturally he’s too busy. So if he doesn’t like the dinner service I choose, then it’s really his own fault and he’s going to have to live with it.”

“You know,” Caroline said, leaning over, “Jerome D. Rutter says that wedding lists can hold a negative force over you, because you feel like you’ve got to keep everything you’re given even though your life and tastes may change. He says that you should ask people to give to charity instead. That way you improve the world and don’t weigh yourself down.”

Mum looked at Caroline and smiled tightly. “Well, Jerome D. Rutter obviously hasn’t seen the dinner service from Royal Doulton that I’ve got my eye on,” she said.

“Mum, look, I’m kind of busy here. Is there something specific that you want?”

She frowned. “You know, I’ve come all the way from Wiltshire. I don’t expect a welcome party, but I do expect manners, darling.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, embarrassed. “It’s just Monday morning. You know. Can I get you a cup of tea?”

“Tea would be nice; thank you, darling,” Mum said, looking slightly mollified. “One sugar, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“I’ll make it, if you like,” Caroline offered immediately, but I waved her away. I wanted a couple of minutes to myself to turn my idea around in my head a bit before it got lost behind all my mother’s chatter. Max believed in perfection, I thought, as I wandered to the small office kitchen and found a vaguely clean mug. He thought I was perfect and the ideal wife. I knew I wasn’t. What we had was a gap between perception and reality. So … wouldn’t the obvious solution be to close that gap? Maybe not completely but as far as possible?

I took a tea bag from the box and switched on the kettle. So what if perfection didn’t actually exist? That didn’t mean aiming high was a bad idea. Just like Chester with his audit. He wanted his company to be the ideal against which others would measure themselves; surely I could aim at being the ideal wife?

I finished making my mother’s tea, then wandered back to my desk and handed her the cup. She was sitting at Caroline’s desk now, opposite mine, with her mouth wide open. “And you can buy things just like that?”

Caroline nodded. “You bid, you see. It’s an auction.”

She shot me a little smile. “Your mother was interested in eBay,” she said by way of explanation.

“It’s amazing,” Mum said. “I’d heard about it, but never actually … Now, what else is there on the Internet? Chester bought me a computer, you see. He thought it would help me with the wedding. What about networking? Everyone networks on their computers, don’t they?”

I found myself laughing. “Mum, you sound like a dinosaur. Have you seriously never been on eBay before?”

Mum looked at me haughtily. “Dinosaurs would still be roaming about if it hadn’t been for the meteorite that hit earth,” she said. “And, anyway, I’ve never had my own computer before. But now I’m connected to the World Wide Web. So, come on, Caroline, how do I network?”

Caroline looked at me helplessly. “I don’t know. Um, Facebook, maybe?”

“Facebook?” Mum looked at her uncertainly. “Is that a book of faces?”

“Kind of,” Caroline said. “Look, let me show you.”

“Is this what you wanted to see me about?” I asked. “Getting online?”

“Yes, darling,” Mum said airily. “But you get on with your work. Caroline and I will be fine. Won’t we, Caroline?”

Caroline smiled sweetly, and I rolled my eyes, then turned back to my own computer.

    I frowned, trying to remember what Max had said on the subject, trying to remember what Chester, Mum, and even Helen had said.

1. To be honest.

I squirmed slightly as I thought about Hugh.

As far as possible
, I added.

2. To learn to cook fabulous food and to cook a lovely meal
every night. Some nights
. On occasion.

Sure, Max had said he didn’t mind that I couldn’t cook, but what man didn’t like it when his wife went the extra mile and baked him something delicious? No, I was going to learn to cook, and I was going to do it soon. Max wouldn’t know what had hit him.

I thought for a moment. What else? Then I remembered what Chester had said.

3. To make sure Max’s shirts are always dry-cleaned.

I frowned. Were shirts dry-cleaned? That didn’t sound right.
Or just laundered. Beautifully. And ironed
.

4. To learn to iron.

I reviewed the list, then sighed. It was pathetic. Cooking and ironing? Was I trying to be the perfect wife or a housekeeper? I started to delete, then changed my mind. They weren’t bad things in themselves; I just needed more. I thought for a moment about what I loved about Max and what he did that made me feel so happy, so special. And then I started to type again.

5. To listen to Max, to hear what he actually says instead of hearing what I think he says or, worse, what I want him to have said.

6. To be a better person generally. To give my time to others. Soup kitchen, maybe?

7. To make life easy for him, not run to him every time I have a problem and expect him to sort things out.

8. To pay him little compliments every day, so he knows how loved he is.

9. To be supportive. Always. Unwaveringly. To be on his side no matter what.

10. ???

“Jess? Jess, what are you doing?” I looked up and reddened when I saw Max walking toward me, a perplexed expression on his face. “Didn’t you get my email? Oh, hello, Esther. I didn’t know you were coming in today.”

“I just stopped by,” Mum said, standing up. “Actually, I have to go now. Got an appointment at Harrods. Lovely to see you, though. And, Caroline, thank you so much. I’m going to Facebook myself later this evening. I’ll look you up, shall I?”

“Definitely.” Caroline beamed as I closed my project-planning program guiltily. Sure enough, when I checked my email in-box, there were three new ones from Max.

“The partner from the auditing firm is here,” he said. “He’s going to brief us on the process.”

“Oh, great!” I stood up quickly. Too quickly: I spilled the rest of my forgotten coffee all over my desk. Caroline immediately started to mop it up with tissues.

“You’re sure everything’s all right, Jess? You’re acting kind of weird today.”

“Me? No, I’m fine. Completely fine,” I said, trying to sound as supportive as I possibly could. “So the partner’s here. Let’s go and see him!”

“Yes,” Max said, looking rather unconvinced. “Let’s.”

The partner from the auditing firm was waiting in Max’s office and smiled pleasantly when I walked in.

“Name’s Joshua,” he said, smiling broadly. “Hope I didn’t pull you away from anything important.”

I smiled brightly. “No. Not at all.”

“Great. Well, as I said to Max, this is really just a formality, just a quick visit to run through the process.”