Page 43 of The Husband Diet
No point in telling him about the divorce. ‘Together we earn enough, Ira and I. But sometimes I wonder if my job is worth it.’
‘It is if you manage to get home in time to pick up the kids. I see you every day. You never turn to say hello, though.’
I pushed a hand through my hair again and smiled, embarrassed. ‘You got me there,’ I admitted.
‘Erica, please let me get one thing straight. I don’t have any doubts about your parenting skills. I think you’re a wonderful mother.’
I had to ask. ‘Then why are you here?’
He went bright red. ‘Because I wanted to see if your coffee is as good as your cakes.’
‘Well, in that case, I have a confession to make. I bought this one. Well, no, that’s a lie. I didn’t pay for it.’
‘You mean you forgot to pay for it?’ he concluded gently, his expression unwavering.
‘No!’ I said with a giggle, and his face relaxed. ‘I’m the manager of a hotel – The Farthington?’
‘Wow! that posh place. I’m even more impressed.’
‘And I didn’t have any time to run home and bake a cake like I normally do at this hour on Fridays, so I took one off Jeremy, the in-house baker.’
His eyebrows shot up. ‘Youbakeevery Friday?’
‘Uh-huh. My grandma taught me. I bake a cake, a pizza, and a meat and vegetable dish or lasagne, so I don’t have to cook too much on the weekends and I can spend more time with the kids.’ The fact that I don’t eat any of it in an attempt to get fit is better left unsaid.
He beamed at me. ‘You know, Erica, you’re the only working mother I know who does that.’
‘Really? I’ve always envied the non-working mothers. You know, the posh ones with the perfect manners.’
He chuckled, shaking his beautiful, beautiful head. Somebodypleasestop me before I reach out and caress his face…
‘No, really. I mean, they’re so together and elegant and…’
‘You think too much, Erica. You look just fine – great, actually – and your kids adore you. You’re the woman every man would want to marry. Just enjoy your family time together. Now if you’ll excuse me, I promised Warren I’d dedicate some time to him today.’
Which was just as well that he didn’t see me fall back onto my chair with a thud.You are the woman every man would want to marry.If that was his idea of encouraging parents to do a good job, he’d have to watch it, because he’d soon have dozens of swooning women in his wake just like the Pied Piper, if he already didn’t. Because women, no matter what we say, always fall for compliments in an accent. What a charmer.
I craned my neck, to see Warren and Julian playing on the front lawn. And let me tell you – my kid was all googly-eyed for having his very own baseball champion live in his own yard.
And that was exactly how my soon-to-be ex-husband came home to find a six-foot former baseball champion in jeans and a sweatshirt playing the sport he loved more than anything in the world with his only son.
Ira gaped at me, and I said, ‘This is the school principal, Mr. Julian Foxham. The other day, Warren won the game for his team.’
Ira strode over to Julian and grasped his hand. ‘Mr. Foxham! I’m ahugefan!’
‘That’s very kind of you, Mr. Lowenstein.’
‘Call me Ira.’ He beamed. ‘You must be super famous at school!’
Ira was so enthusiastic, I hardly recognized him. Sothatwas what it took to excite him. Maybe I should have had Paul sew me a little baseball skirt number I could wear to bed. Too late for that now.
As it turned out, Ira was so happy to have met his hero that he invited him and us all out to Le Tre Donne for dinner. Which was a shock per se. Didn’t he have a lover to tend to?
‘I’m not going out to dinner with you,’ I hissed to Ira as Julian played with Warren.
‘Come on, Erica. We agreed to keep up the charade until the New Year. Plus, it’s a great opportunity for the kids to build a rapport with their principal.’
I crossed my arms. ‘You meanyouwant to build a rapport with him.’
