The Shop on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #1)(94)

Jacqueline was amused by the story but she wasn’t foolish enough to believe that making a fuss over Reese would change anything. “More power to your aunt Frieda,” she said.

“No, Mom,” Tammie Lee said, staring up at her intently. “The power is yours, too. And you can use it as you wish.”

Her daughter-in-law’s words still rang in her mind as Jacqueline drove home. She pulled into the garage and entered the dark and silent house. Martha had left a chef’s salad in the refrigerator for her dinner; she sat down at the kitchen table and nibbled at it, but she didn’t have much appetite. The house seemed full of little sounds. Creaks and moans. They only emphasized the emptiness of the place, and she put on some music to distract herself.

Twenty minutes later, she gave up, deciding to have a bath earlier than usual. After her bath, she generally went to bed to read—and to listen for Reese. Some nights she read until the morning hours without hearing him at all. She’d never acknowledged that she waited for him, but tonight the truth was like an intruder standing in the middle of her bedroom.

Despite all her husband’s years of infidelity, the pain was almost overwhelming. At this very moment, he was with another woman and she’d allowed his philandering to continue, accepted it as if it were normal. Jacqueline realized she couldn’t pretend any longer. She couldn’t and she wouldn’t!

Half-undressed, the bathwater running in the tub, she walked into the kitchen, each step filled with righteous indignation. She jerked open a drawer and reached for the country club directory. Tossing it on the kitchen counter, she searched for Allan Anderson’s number. They’d been good friends for years, and he was the best divorce attorney in town. Once he got his hands on this case, her husband would pay dearly for what he’d done to her and to their lives.

All at once, the virtuous anger left her and she closed the directory, but her hand lingered there.

Dear God in heaven, what was she thinking? She didn’t want a divorce, she wanted her husband. She wanted Reese!

Somehow, some way, she’d have to win him back.

Slowly now, lost in her thoughts, she walked into the bathroom again and turned off the water. Sitting on the edge of the tub, she pressed her fingers to her temples as she considered what to do.

The sound of the garage door closing startled her. Jacqueline stood, her heart pounding at a furious pace. It couldn’t possibly be Reese. Not this early. He was rarely home before nine.

“Reese, is that you?” she called out, then silently chastised herself. Who else could it be? A burglar wasn’t likely to announce his arrival.

“I’m home,” her husband called back flatly.

Slipping on her robe, Jacqueline came out of the bathroom to see her husband standing at the kitchen counter, sorting through the mail. He seemed surprised to see her.

Where she found the courage, Jacqueline didn’t know, but she stepped boldly forward.

Reese casually glanced up. “Yes?”

“It’s over. I want that understood here and now. I won’t put up with this any longer.”

He blinked and stared at her. Thankfully he didn’t make a pretense of not knowing what she meant.

“I won’t,” she repeated.

He continued to stare, his expression incredulous.

“First of all,” she went on, “it’s demeaning to me as your wife. I’ve looked the other way for the last time. I won’t do it again. I tried to pretend it doesn’t matter and for a while I managed to convince myself—but it does. It matters very much.”

“What—”

Jacqueline kept talking. If she didn’t finish this now, while she had the courage, she might not have another chance. “I’ve never been the kind of wife to issue ultimatums or make demands, but I’m doing it now. Whoever she is, get rid of her. I don’t care what it costs. I want her out of your life and mine.”

Reese shook his head, apparently speechless.

“I won’t allow our grandchildren to grow up seeing me treated with that kind of disrespect.” Here she was, having what was possibly the most important discussion of her marriage, while standing barefoot in the middle of her kitchen dressed only in a robe.

Frowning, Reese went back to sorting the mail.

Tammie Lee’s story rolled through her mind and Jacqueline dragged in a fortifying breath. Since she’d come this far, she might as well go for broke. “There’s more,” she announced with as much dignity as she could muster.

“More?”

She nodded and stepped closer. “As a matter of fact, there’s a great deal more. I happen to love you, Reese. I don’t know what went wrong between us and…and whatever it was, I share the blame. But I’m lonely, Reese, and I want you back in my bed.” Her voice caught. For one crazy moment, Jacqueline imagined herself as Tammie Lee’s Aunt Frieda. She propped one hand on her hip, jutted out her shoulder and lowered her voice to a husky whisper. “I promise I’ll be all the woman you’ll ever need.”

The look in her husband’s eyes was beyond description as he dropped the mail. “Jacquie? Are you serious?”

She laughed in a way she hoped sounded sexy and sensuous. “Don’t take my word for it. Come and find out for yourself.”

Reese’s mouth sagged, his face so comically eager that she nearly laughed out loud.