Free Wellesley Wives (New England Trilogy) by Suzy Duffy Page A

in New Jersey, and they had no real interest in acquiring a second mom.
    Sandra had a brother who was married with two teenage sons, so in theory she did have family to fuss over. The problem was that she and her sister-in-law didn’t get along, so they’d sort of drifted apart. A few years earlier Ben, her brother, moved from New York out to California, and she hadn’t been to visit them. Ben was a few years older than her, and he kept asking her to visit but she didn’t. It was just unfortunate but Sandra was quite sure that the reason for their estrangement had every bit as much to do with Laura pulling Ben away from her, as with her own reluctance. This was tough because she really did love her big brother. It was just too difficult to stay in touch.
    The flipside was they’d never visited Sandra either. She didn’t have enough room to accommodate four guests, but then again, maybe they could have managed somehow.
    Her home was the ultimate luxury apartment, but it only had a couple of bedrooms. She had made a strong argument for three when they were designing the internal layout, but Jack had insisted on only two. He bought it just after they’d gotten married. It was the penthouse in Wellesley’s most desirable apartment block.
    Since the apartment was connected to Wellesley’s only six-star hotel, The Celtic Crowne Plaza, they had full hotel facilities twenty-four hours a day. This meant that the apartment was cleaned thoroughly daily with sheets changed and laundry collected—exactly as if they were staying in the hotel. Naturally, she had full use of the hotel’s gym, swimming pool, and hair salon, but she could also have the beautician come to her apartment and dinner could be sent up from the restaurant. They could even order a drink from the bar if they didn’t feel like making it themselves. She also had a state-of-the-art kitchen, but it didn’t get much use.
    “Far easier to order from the hotel’s kitchen,” Jack had said. And he was right, of course, but Sandra felt he was wrong about the apartment layout.
    Three bedrooms would have been more welcoming to his three daughters and her brother’s family. It wasn’t as if it wasn’t big enough, because they had the space. The apartment stretched over five thousand square feet. The truth was, Sandra had a deep suspicion that Jack had railroaded the two bedroom design through so it would be quite clear that there were no babies coming into their life.
    “As if,” she harrumphed this morning while getting out of bed.
    Her head hurt. She’d drunk too much the night before, but her conversation with Popsy had upset her, and the business dinner had been a crashing bore. Jack gave her nasty looks all night, so she’d taken to the wine with a vengeance. She hadn’t gotten drunk or anything, but three glasses were enough to give her a hangover. Nothing the gym wouldn’t get rid of she decided—only she’d go later.
    Sandra fixed herself a slice of toast, a glass of orange juice, and a mug of black coffee. Jack had told her that he would be up and out very early in a last-ditch effort to salvage the deal with the Europeans. But he had been kind enough to drop The Boston Globe —essential Sunday reading—onto the kitchen table before he left.
    Newspapers were brought to the front door of her apartment every day and left on the mat. He must have seen it on his way out and brought it in for her. That was thoughtful.
    With her breakfast tray carefully settled on her bed and the paper on her nightstand, she returned to bed, content. It was a glorious way to start a Sunday. Sandra pushed the button next to her light switch and the curtains rolled back to reveal a very pleasant morning. Whatever storm was in the air the night before had blown itself out. She took a bite of blackened toast smothered in coarse-cut marmalade—just the way she liked it.
    The Sunday paper continued to dwell on the state of the U.S. economy, which really was depressing.