An Ideal Wife Read Online Free Page A

in going out and painting the town red.
    “Maybe it’s weird,” I said tentatively. “But maybe it isn’t. I mean, maybe he’s just swamped at work.”
    “Yeah, it’s possible,” Helen said, her forehead creasing into a frown. “But what if it’s a brush-off?”
    I shrugged helplessly. “Hel, you know I don’t have much experience with men,” I said.
    “You’re married,” Helen pointed out.
    “Yes, but—”
    “You’ve been engaged twice.”
    “Sure, but—”
    “And you convinced a gorgeous, in-demand man to marry you in fifty days.” Helen raised an eyebrow and sat back, as if to say, “Game, set, and match.”
    It was true, but it wasn’t the way it sounded. Helen was referring to a story that started with Grace, my grandma’s neighbor at the old folks’ home. I hadn’t known that Grace was rich. I’d just thought of her as the sweet woman to whom I told stories, cheering her up in the process. The one she’d liked most was about me having a boyfriend, a story I’d made up about Anthony Milton, my boss. And before long, the “boyfriend” had become a fiancé (egged on by Grace) and finally a full-fledged husband. I know, it seems a little far-fetched. But her eyes lit up when I told her about our (totally made up) romance. And then when she died, I got the shock of my life—she’d left me all her money and an amazing house in the country. Except she didn’t leave it to me; she left it to Mrs. Anthony Milton. So Helen and I hatched Project Marriage, an attempt to get Anthony to marry me for real. And it worked. Kind of. There was just one more twist in the tale. Turned out Anthony was actually Grace’s estranged son; she’d known all along that I wasn’t really married and had been angling to get the two of us hitched so that I could keep him on the straight and narrow.
    Fortunately I’d realized, just moments before saying “I do,” that I couldn’t do it—not for Grace, not for all the money in the world. Because I loved Max and I couldn’t imagine being married to anyone but him. Grace might have been disappointed if she were still alive, but I like to think that the romantic in her would be happy. After all, I got married eventually; I got my happily ever after.
    “Anthony asked me to marry him because he wanted half of Grace’s inheritance,” I said firmly. “That’s all. And after everything I’ve done, I’m the last person you want to ask for advice on relationships.”
    “Not the
last
person,” Helen said, attempting a smile. “But maybe you’ve got a point. Maybe you’re not the perfect person to turn to for guidance. But you’re the only person here, so you’ll have to do. Do you think I should trust John or not?”
    “I don’t know,” I said with a sigh. “Hel, I’ve never even met the guy. What does your gut tell you?”
    I hadn’t trusted Hugh. Not initially, anyway. And I’d been right.
    “It tells me he’s probably telling the truth,” Helen said, sitting back despondently.
    “So why the long face?” I asked, curious. “It’s almost as if you’d prefer there to be some deep dark secret.”
    “No!” Helen shook her head vehemently. “No, I wouldn’t. No, not at all.”
    I studied her face for a few seconds, then took a slurp of coffee. “Come on, then. What do you think makes the ideal husband? The ideal wife?” I asked.
    Helen frowned. “The whole idea of marriage freaks me out a bit,” she said, shuddering.
    “Boyfriend, then,” I said. “If you could design the perfect partner, what would he be like?”
    “God knows.”
    “At least try. Once you know what you want, you can see if John measures up.”
    Helen nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, if you put it like that. But let me state for the record that I categorically do not believe that perfection exists. If it did, we’d all give up now, because we’re so completely lacking. So, let me think. Obviously he’d have to be completely in love with me,” she said, pausing