A Wife of Noble Character Read Online Free

annual blowout rivaled only by the GOP convention,” Preston said. “I’ll bring my rifle in case you forget yours.”
    Vivienne brought the cigarette to her lips and pulled. “You always tease me,” she said, exhaling. She didn’t pass the cigarette, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t even want it. He just wanted to watch her smoke. “You know what’s funny? I have no memory of ever talking to each other in high school.”
    â€œThat was on purpose,” he said. “I tried hard to be invisible to pretty girls in high school.”
    She smiled. “I heard you designed Karlie and Tim’s addition.”
    Preston shrugged. “I didn’t design it. I interned for the firm that designed it.”
    â€œI don’t know why they needed an addition,” she said. “Unless Karlie is planning on having a baby soon.”
    â€œBecause bigger is better. You know that.”
    â€œDoes it scare you,” she said, “not knowing when you’ll be able to afford more than an apartment?”
    Preston was amused at being put in his place. “Not at all. I’m one of the noble peasants.”
    â€œThe fact that you’ll have to work all the time and find a job—does that worry you? That you won’t be able to move around?”
    â€œWell, yeah, with all the parties I’ll miss at Waverly’s ranch.”
    She rolled her eyes. “They’re honest questions.”
    â€œThey’re also snotty questions,” he said.
    Vivienne took a final drag and scowled. “Cigarettes are gross.” She tossed it out the window.
    Preston made a mental note to find it on the driveway later and throw it away.
    She leaned forward, gripping the windowsill, hesitating, focused on something above the tree line. “Whenever I see you, I end up wondering what you think of me.”
    â€œProbably because you think I’m so wise.”
    She shook her head and laughed. “Time for me to go.”
    He stepped aside so she could make her way through the passage between the furniture to the door. “Do you remember how to get back to your car? I can walk you.”
    â€œI’m fine on my own.”
    He felt divided between wanting more time with her—something seemed unresolved—and relief that she was leaving. He let the moment pass and didn’t insist. They shared a brief hug at the threshold. She felt small in his arms, her breasts a single, solicitous cushion against his chest.
    â€œYou should come to the ranch for Memorial Day,” she said over his shoulder.
    â€œMaybe,” he said. He knew without a doubt that he would.
    He waved goodbye as she made her delicate way down the stairs, watched her from the doorway as she paused on the last step to slip into her heels.

 
    II
    I am insane , Vivienne thought. She straightened her shoulders and strode down the driveway, ignoring the blisters burning her heels. It occurred to her that she didn’t entirely remember the way back to her car, but she knew it wasn’t far. Better to be lost than to slip further into insanity at Preston’s. This time she blamed herself; she’d invited it. Just as she was turning the corner—it was a left from the driveway, that much she remembered—a bicycle materialized in the corner of her vision and swept past, nearly catching her dress and pulling her down.
    Vivienne whipped around. The bicyclist braked, not to check on her but to park. It was a girl riding with an armful of books. She dropped her kickstand and started up the driveway.
    â€œExcuse me!” Vivienne said.
    The girl turned around. She was clearly a student, with her books and frumpy jeans and T-shirt.
    â€œYou almost ran me over!” Vivienne felt hot in the face.
    â€œSorry,” the girl said, with obvious apathy.
    She gave Vivienne a curious stare and continued on her way. Vivienne watched her. She had pretty hair. It was perfectly