Message from a Mistress Read Free

to count.
    Too endless for her to truly care, although she played by every rule.
    And I did them all…so why is my marriage in trouble? she thought, studying her reflection as she sat at her ornate dressing table.
    She felt a gradient of stress across her shoulders and the back of her neck. The thought of a spa day with her good friends sounded all the more appealing to her.
    Ding-dong .
    Jaime thought the sound of that doorbell was an annoyance. She really was not in the mood for company of any kind. She just wanted some “me time” until she left for her midmorning appointment. More and more, the way her life was plated was becoming hard to swallow, and it was in those moments when she needed to be herself…like now.
    Ding-dong .
    Releasing a heavy breath, Jaime rose from the dressing table, her silk robe billowing out behind her as she turned to leave the room. Who could it be? she wondered as she descended the stairs.
    Ding-dong .
    She passed the large, framed oval mirror on the hall wall and doubled back. She’d forgotten that her hair was still tied up in her silk scarf, she was make-up free, and she wore nothing but her silk robe. Her own husband had never seen her without some sort of make-up on—another of her mother’s marital rules.
    She continued on to the door and looked out one of the ornate side windows as she pulled her robe closer around her slender frame. “Jesus, take the wheel,” she drawled, deeply massaging the bridge of her nose before she placed a smile on her face and opened the door wide. “Morning, Mama. Hey there, Daddy,” she greeted them, sounding more like a Southern belle than a city girl.
    Her parents lived just thirty minutes away in another subdivision and that meant random drop-ins like this happened quite often.
    “Good morning,” they said in unison as they walked into the foyer and presented themselves for the customary air kiss to her mother’s cheek and a big hug for her short, round, and completely loveable father.
    “Do you normally answer the door in such attire?” Virginia asked as Jaime led them across the hardwood floors to the family room.
    The question was filled with judgments…which was normal when it came to Virginia Osten-Pine, the self-proclaimed wife, mother, socialite extraordinaire.
    “No, I wasn’t expecting company,” Jaime said politely, catching her mother drag her finger across the top of the large leather ottoman serving as the coffee table.
    Jaime’s home was a showpiece. Pristine, stylishly decorated, and the envy of many of her neighbors. In fact, it had been showcased in the realty section of a small local newspaper. Most people walked in and paused at the first sight of it with its high ceilings, dozens of large windows, dramatic art pieces, and décor.
    Not Virginia Osten-Pine, or rather, Mrs. Franklin Pine.
    “What brings you to this side of town?” she asked.
    “We just thought we would treat you kids to breakfast at our country club,” Franklin said. “Where’s Eric?”
    Jaime turned to face him because not to do so would be rude and she knew her mother would’ve called her on it. “He went deep-sea fishing with Kingston and Jackson. They’ll be gone all day, Daddy,” she told him.
    “Now, that sounds like a fun day out for the fellas,” Franklin said, folding his hands atop his rotund belly.
    “Yes, dear,” Virginia said.
    Jaime eyed her mother for a bit before she turned and continued up the stairs. She knew for a fact that her mother hated her father’s passion for fishing, but Jaime would bet her last dollar that Virginia had never questioned her husband about it. She saved her opinions and judgments for anyone and everyone else except her husband.
    Jaime couldn’t recall one time her parents had argued. Ever.
    Franklin spoke and Virginia obeyed. Chocolate-covered June and Ward Cleaver.
    “So I’m going to…going to…” Jaime paused because if she said anything about a spa day she knew her mother might invite