The Perfect Life (2 page)

“Ugh. It's awful. I thought you said I'd be over it by now.”

“No, I said
I
was over it by four months. Some women are sick throughout their pregnancy. The full nine months.”

Hayley groaned. “Just shoot me now.”

“Keep those saltines on your nightstand.” It was poor comfort but the best I could offer.“You're feeling well enough to come tonight, aren't you?”

“Are you kidding? Steve and I wouldn't miss this for the world. I bought a great new dress for the occasion. No one will guess I'm pregnant.”

We chatted a few more minutes, making plans to go shopping the following week, then said our good-byes and I hung up the phone.

I remained on the kitchen stool, staring out the window at our backyard—brushed in shades of spring green and the first appearance of colorful flowers—and thought again how wonderful my life was.

Absolutely perfect.

Nicole

NICOLE SCHUBERT STARED AT THE ARTICLE IN THE
morning's paper. The colored photographs were grainy, but that didn't obscure Brad Clarkson's rugged handsomeness. Or his smile. She remembered that smile. She'd seen it hundreds of times.

He wasn't as happy as those photographs made him seem. He had troubles just like anybody else. Nicole had seen through the facade of contentment soon after she went to work for him. She'd seen through it and had tried to help.

And Katherine? She was a throwback to another era, no question about it. Miss Goody Two-Shoes sharing her favorite Bible verses and baking her fancy desserts.

Nicole drew in a deep breath through her nose, trying to quiet the anger curling in her belly.
Humanitarian of the Year
. She whispered a foul word. Oh, how she would like to see him brought down a few pegs. He had the whole city thinking he was a paragon of social justice or something.

She used to think so too. She used to think he could do no wrong.

She didn't think so any longer.

“I'll make you sorry. So help me, I will.”

She read the article a second time, her finger running down the lines, and as she neared the end, a slow smile curled the corners of her mouth.

Yes, he would be very sorry, indeed
.

Two

“
GIRLFRIEND, YOU LOOK
FABULOUS!”
SUSAN BALES, MY
dearest friend in the world, gave me a hug and an air kiss. “That dress is to die for.”

I loved Susan for many reasons, not the least of which was her ability to know the right thing to say at the right moment. I'd been nervous about my appearance tonight. I so wanted to make Brad proud. Now those worries were gone.

“Where's the man of the hour?”

“Oh, he's around.” I let my gaze roam the lobby of the convention center until I found him.He was shaking a woman's hand and smiling as they talked. On his left were the mayor and his wife. On his right, the governor.

“I don't see him,” Susan said.

“Over there.” I pointed. “With the mayor and Governor Brown.”

Susan whistled softly.“Wow. Will I get to meet the Honorable Mr. Brown?”

“Only if you promise to behave.”

The governor was widowed, wealthy, and beyond handsome. My best friend was twice divorced, attractive, and looking for her next husband. I could see the wheels churning in her head.

She slapped playfully at my hand. “What fun would that be?”

“
Susan . . .

”

“Oh, don't worry. I promise not to embarrass you or Brad. I know how much this night means to you.”

“Thanks.” I swallowed a sigh of relief.

Just then, I caught sight of Emma and Jason entering the lobby, followed by Hayley and Steve.

“The girls are here,” I said to Susan.

“You go start introducing them to the dignitaries. I'm going to mingle with the other common folk.”

There was nothing common about Susan Bales. Everybody was drawn to her laughter, wit, and charm. It had been like that since we were in elementary school. Charisma with a capital
C
. It was a wonder she hadn't gone into politics.

Hmm. Maybe she
should
meet the governor. It might be a match made in heaven.

I gave Susan's arm a squeeze, then headed toward my daughters and sons-in-law.

“You all look wonderful,” I said when I drew near.

It wasn't mere flattery. My daughters were both pretty although very different in looks. Hayley was tall and wispy, Emma, short and athletic. Hayley had an air of elegance. Emma was pure mischief with a dash of rebellion thrown in.

“You're right about the dress,” I told Hayley after kissing her cheek. “No one would guess you're four months pregnant.”

Emma, on the other hand, had chosen a dress that made her look farther along than her six months. I was certain she wanted it that way.

“What do you think of the tux?” Jason asked, pulling my attention toward him.

“You look dashing, dear boy.”

“Hear that?” Jason placed an arm around Emma's shoulders. “Your mom thinks I'm dashing
and
a dear boy.”

She elbowed him in the ribs. “Don't let it go to your head, buster.”

“Mom,” Hayley said. “Where's the ladies' room?”

I pointed in the direction of the restrooms. “Are you all right? You look a little pale.”

“I'm fine. Just pregnant and feeling it.” She turned toward her husband. “I'll be right back. Wait for me?”

“I'll be here,” Steven answered.

Emma tapped my shoulder. “Mom. I think Dad wants you.”

I turned around, looking for Brad. When our gazes met, he made a slight motion with his head, one that said,
Come join me
. I nodded, saying to Emma, “I'd better go. Will you—”

“Don't worry about us. This is Dad's night to shine. And yours too. We'll just bask in the reflected glory.”

Awash in good feelings, I gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “There's a table reserved for you four up toward the front. Your father and I will be at the head table.”

I left Emma, Jason, and Steve and made my way through the crowd, pausing when others spoke to me, thanking them for coming, shaking their hands.

“We think this is so wonderful, Katherine.”

“Tell Brad how glad I am for him. I think he deserves this recognition.”

“Perhaps your husband will come speak at our club meeting in the next month or two. Our group likes to support local charities.”

As I drew close to Brad, he reached for me with one hand. I took it, feeling the warmth and the strength of his grasp.

“Here you are,” he said, smiling. Then he looked at the man and woman standing with him. “I'd like you to meet my wife, Katherine. Katherine, this is Henrietta Martinez.” He touched the woman's shoulder.“Ms.Martinez is the CEO of the Ponderosa Group.”

“Hello.” I shook her hand.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Clarkson.”

“And this,” Brad continued, moving his hand to the man's shoulder, “is Paul Kay. He heads up the Boise Valley Council of Christian Churches.”

“How do you do, Mr. Kay?”

“Very well, thanks.”He glanced at Brad, then back at me. “I was telling your husband that Mike Sorenson has nothing but good things to say about In Step's efforts to provide home ownership for the poor and disadvantaged. I agree with him that it's a great opportunity for Christians to be the hands and feet of Jesus. I hope more people from our congregations will volunteer to work with In Step.”

“That would be wonderful. No matter how many volunteers we have, we can always use more.”

The doors to the banquet hall opened, and the crowd surged in that direction. Before I could become one of them, Brad drew me off to the side of the lobby.

“Let's wait a minute.”

I smiled. “Nerves?”

“Some.”

“Honey, don't you know? Everyone here admires you and what you're doing. There's nothing to be nervous about.”

“You're prejudiced.”

“You bet I am, and I have plenty of reasons to be.” I kissed him on the cheek, making certain afterward that I hadn't left lipstick behind. That wouldn't do.

“Mom. Dad. Are you ready to go in?”

At Emma's voice, I turned to watch our daughters and their husbands approach. “We're ready.”

“Good,” said our youngest, “because I'm starving.”

“You're always starving,” Jason said, laughter in his voice.

“I'm eating for two.”

Hayley gave her sister a petulant glance. “At least you can eat without getting sick.”

“Ah, Hay. I'm sorry.” Emma looked contrite. “I bet you'll be over it any day now.”

I slipped my arm through Brad's. “Let's go in.”

We turned in unison, but before we could take our first step, the bright glare of lights from a news camera blinded me. I put up my hand to shield my eyes but lowered it at once, remembering the need to look poised and calm when approached by the press.

“Mr. Clarkson, Greta St. James, Channel 5 News. This is a big night for you, a very great honor to receive the Humanitarian of the Year Award.” She held the microphone toward Brad.

“Yes, it is.”

“Certainly all the recognition and the articles in the newspaper should bring in more donations to your foundation.”

“Well, we hope so. More funds mean we can help more people.”

Greta smiled.“Yes. I'm sure. But Channel 5 News has learned of an allegation that In Step has mismanaged charitable funds in recent years. Do you have anything to say in response?”

Brad drew back an inch or two.“No, I don't have a response. I don't know of any such allegation.”

“The paper quotes you as saying that it's more blessed to give than receive. But isn't it true that you personally receive rather generously because of the foundation?”

“I'm not sure what you're asking.”

“Isn't that why you need to increase donations? To cover generosity to yourself and other board and staff members.”

“No, that's
not
true.” Brad's eyes narrowed.

While Greta St. James might not know the warning signs, I did. My husband was waging a battle with his temper, and I wasn't sure he would win.

“In Step is a faith-based charity. Most of your supporters are good people of modest means who want to help those less fortunate. How would those donors feel if they thought they'd been duped?”

“No one has been duped.” Brad's grip tightened on my arm. “Please excuse us. We—”

“Mrs. Clarkson . . .”

I felt pinned by the reporter's gaze as she turned her attention upon me.

“You've worked with In Step too. Were you aware that there were questionable practices in regard to the organization's finances?”

The microphone came at me.

Greta St. James wore a red blazer over a white blouse. Her hair was black and fell softly about her face and shoulders. She was young, perhaps in her late twenties, and her lipstick was the exact same shade of red as her blazer.

Strange, wasn't it, that I noticed such things right then?

“Get that mic away from her!” Emma stepped between us, hands splayed before the camera lens, facing down the reporter like a guard dog. “My mother has nothing to say.” She turned toward me.“Mom, I think you and Dad should go in.”

Some men appeared and shepherded the reporter and cameraman toward the exit. I heard one of them say, “This is a private function,” and that pretty young woman with the red lipstick and red blazer insist they had a right to be there.

“Katherine?” Brad drew me around. “I don't know what that was about, but whatever it was, it isn't true. There's nothing wrong at In Step.”

“Of course not.”

“The foundation's accounts are all in order.”

“Of course they are.”