Read Online Mrs. Perfect by Jane Porter - Free Book Online Page B

artichoke-and-spinach dip, chilled shrimp and cocktail sauce—but Jen has brought Thai spring rolls and other vegetarian dishes.
    “What are we drinking?” one of the women asks, dipping a spring roll in sauce.
    “Pinot Gris, Columbia Valley, Château Ste. Michelle,” Kate answers, flashing the bottle’s label. “Bill and I have really been into this wine this summer. This and rosé—”
    “Rosé?” Monica repeats, scandalized.
    “It’s making a comeback,” Kate answers calmly, filling another glass. “Rosé is really hot right now.”
    “I can’t see Bill drinking rosé,” Monica protests.
    “You’re thinking of those Gallo jugs you used to buy in your twenties. But rosé’s gone upscale. It’s a perfect wine for the summer.”
    “I like Muscat for summer entertaining,” adds Raine, reaching for one of the tomato slices. “Or a late harvest Riesling.”
    “Gewürztraminer if you’re serving Indian food,” Monica answers, jumping right back into the middle of the discussion. Monica can’t stand being less than an authority on everything.
    God, I wish I liked her better.
    “Suze, wine?” Kate asks, lifting the bottle.
    “No. Can’t.” Tall, blond, gorgeous Suze grimaces. “I’m in the middle of a detox cleansing. Just water and green tea for the next forty-eight hours.”
    “You’re kidding.” Ellen stares at Suze agog. “Just water and green tea?”
    “There are some natural herbal supplements, too. And then on the last day you get a series of colonic treatments. Positively life changing.”
    “What is it supposed to do?” Lucy asks uneasily.
    “Recharges your metabolism and makes your skin look and feel fantastic. Afterwards I just glow.”
    Monica nods. “I’ve read about them quite a bit but didn’t know anyone who actually did them.”
    “Oh yes, there are quite a few of us in the area who do the detox and colonic cleansings. But it’s not something you talk about at parties, if you know what I mean.”
    I do. I’m disgusted. As much as I wrestle with my weight and body image, I can’t imagine having anyone squirt anything up my backside.
    “Why don’t we move into the living room?” I suggest, ready for a change of subject.
    Unfortunately, the self-improvement topic follows us to the couches and chairs, but Monica finally wrestles the book into the conversation and for the next hour holds court on agonizingly boring literary comparisons and useless literary theories.
    Finally, the book has been discussed as much as it can be by women who have consumed numerous glasses of wine.
    Now it’s the tricky part of book club: scheduling the next month’s meeting. Once upon a time we had a fixed schedule, but that proved impossible with the crazy demands on us.
    “How about the first Thursday of October?” I suggest, my BlackBerry calendar open.
    “Uh, Boy Scout pack meeting,” Jen answers, looking up from her BlackBerry. “What about Wednesday, the day before?”
    “There’s a Little Door parent education class,” Monica answers, her pen poised above her appointment book.
    A wrinkle forms between Kate’s brows. “You still attend parent education classes?”
    “The school brings in top-notch speakers and specialists to discuss hot topics,” Monica answers, nose lifting slightly with her ever-present superiority. She has two kids, and they attend different schools. “We’re discussing bullying.”
    “God, that topic’s been done to death,” Jen mutters.
    Either Monica doesn’t hear her or she chooses not to respond. Jen attended Harvard and is one of the only moms Monica defers to.
    I hear the garage door open. Nathan’s home. We definitely need to get the next meeting scheduled before the girls come in. “How about Tuesday of that week or Thursday the following week?”
    “Thursday the following week would work for me,” Raine says.
    “Me too,” Patti agrees.
    “It’s a busy day for me, but I think I could do it, too,” Suze answers.
    “Look at your