Read Online The Wife of Reilly by Jennifer Coburn - Free Book Online
Authors: Jennifer Coburn
Tags: Fiction, Contemporary Women
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doing him a favor. This was a duet played by Passion and my Inner Male. I should have gotten out years ago, but it’s not too late for Reilly to find someone new if I let him go now.
I hate to bring this up during your time of euphoria, Prudence, but where exactly has Matt been for the last fourteen years? Common Sense asked. He got rid of you like gum on the bottom of his shoe and now suddenly he wants to marry you? Where is your loyalty? Where is your commitment? Where is your head?!
People change, Passion explained. Let Matt be who he is today. Forgive him for yesterday and enjoy a happy life together.
* * *
It became too busy in my head so I decided to call Matt’s home in Los Angeles from the plane. I knew he wouldn’t be home, but I was dying to hear what kind of outgoing message was on his voice mail.
“Hey, it’s Matt. I’m out right now. You know what to do,” his machine announced. God, this man is hot. You know what to do. But I didn’t. I had no idea what to do. What exactly does a woman with a fiancé and an un-dead husband on opposite ends of the country do?
“Hi. It’s me. Malone,” I shouted into the phone. “I just wanted to say hi, so, um hi.”
My status as sexiest woman he’s ever known is in a precarious state right now.
“Call me when you get home, okay?”
* * *
“Corporate Redemption” shouted the headline of Time. The cover shot was of Paul Lofton, the tire manufacturer who donated $75 million to a scholarship fund in Malaysia last month after his father died and left the company to him. That in and of itself was newsworthy, but the new heir of the black rubber empire said the donation was not charity, but rather redemption for years of exploitation of the good people of Malaysia. You’d think at that point his board of directors would call an emergency session where they subsequently stripped the flesh off his body and grilled it for a weekend barbecue. You’d think the company’s lawyers would go ape shit at the prospect of being sued by everyone from Malaysian workers to stockholders. Actually, the attorneys did go berserk, but with no good reason because no one ever filed a claim. No, instead of being branded a hillbilly Jesus freak, fired by his board and sued by everyone, Paul Lofton became a corporate folk hero. He’s called Johnny Tireseed. I remember the quote from the Wall Street Journal story. “We d’unt do nothing illegal, but we still w’unt right. Today’s the redeemin’.” I saw him interviewed on Larry King a week earlier. “A mistake d’unt gotta be a mistake if you put back what you took. The Lord sees it that way, anyhow,” he said.
Lofton was a dullard but he earned great public admiration for his straightforward honesty. I had to admit, he did seem sweet. Perhaps in his simplicity, Lofton figured out what public relations experts have struggled with for years: how to look like a hero after years of wrongdoing. If only it were that easy with Reilly. All I’d have to do was find Reilly a new wife to replace me once I left. Marital redemption. Maybe I could be on the cover of Time , I laughed, and closed my eyes. Thirty seconds later, Operation Wife of Reilly was conceived.
* * *
When I arrived home Sunday night, Reilly was already in bed. I tiptoed into the bedroom hoping not to wake him.
“Welcome home, Prudence,” he whispered.
“You’re still awake?” I asked, leaning across the bed to kiss him.
“How was Ann Arbor? I saw the highlights on television and it looked like a hell of a game,” Reilly noted.
You don’t know the half of it.
“It was a lot of fun,” I dismissed.
After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I crawled into my familiar bed with Reilly and asked if he was asleep yet.
“Not yet. What’s on your mind?”
“What if something happened to me and you wanted to remarry. What would you look for in a wife? I mean, describe your ideal woman.”
Reilly sighed, exasperated. “Prudence,” Reilly said
I hate to bring this up during your time of euphoria, Prudence, but where exactly has Matt been for the last fourteen years? Common Sense asked. He got rid of you like gum on the bottom of his shoe and now suddenly he wants to marry you? Where is your loyalty? Where is your commitment? Where is your head?!
People change, Passion explained. Let Matt be who he is today. Forgive him for yesterday and enjoy a happy life together.
* * *
It became too busy in my head so I decided to call Matt’s home in Los Angeles from the plane. I knew he wouldn’t be home, but I was dying to hear what kind of outgoing message was on his voice mail.
“Hey, it’s Matt. I’m out right now. You know what to do,” his machine announced. God, this man is hot. You know what to do. But I didn’t. I had no idea what to do. What exactly does a woman with a fiancé and an un-dead husband on opposite ends of the country do?
“Hi. It’s me. Malone,” I shouted into the phone. “I just wanted to say hi, so, um hi.”
My status as sexiest woman he’s ever known is in a precarious state right now.
“Call me when you get home, okay?”
* * *
“Corporate Redemption” shouted the headline of Time. The cover shot was of Paul Lofton, the tire manufacturer who donated $75 million to a scholarship fund in Malaysia last month after his father died and left the company to him. That in and of itself was newsworthy, but the new heir of the black rubber empire said the donation was not charity, but rather redemption for years of exploitation of the good people of Malaysia. You’d think at that point his board of directors would call an emergency session where they subsequently stripped the flesh off his body and grilled it for a weekend barbecue. You’d think the company’s lawyers would go ape shit at the prospect of being sued by everyone from Malaysian workers to stockholders. Actually, the attorneys did go berserk, but with no good reason because no one ever filed a claim. No, instead of being branded a hillbilly Jesus freak, fired by his board and sued by everyone, Paul Lofton became a corporate folk hero. He’s called Johnny Tireseed. I remember the quote from the Wall Street Journal story. “We d’unt do nothing illegal, but we still w’unt right. Today’s the redeemin’.” I saw him interviewed on Larry King a week earlier. “A mistake d’unt gotta be a mistake if you put back what you took. The Lord sees it that way, anyhow,” he said.
Lofton was a dullard but he earned great public admiration for his straightforward honesty. I had to admit, he did seem sweet. Perhaps in his simplicity, Lofton figured out what public relations experts have struggled with for years: how to look like a hero after years of wrongdoing. If only it were that easy with Reilly. All I’d have to do was find Reilly a new wife to replace me once I left. Marital redemption. Maybe I could be on the cover of Time , I laughed, and closed my eyes. Thirty seconds later, Operation Wife of Reilly was conceived.
* * *
When I arrived home Sunday night, Reilly was already in bed. I tiptoed into the bedroom hoping not to wake him.
“Welcome home, Prudence,” he whispered.
“You’re still awake?” I asked, leaning across the bed to kiss him.
“How was Ann Arbor? I saw the highlights on television and it looked like a hell of a game,” Reilly noted.
You don’t know the half of it.
“It was a lot of fun,” I dismissed.
After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I crawled into my familiar bed with Reilly and asked if he was asleep yet.
“Not yet. What’s on your mind?”
“What if something happened to me and you wanted to remarry. What would you look for in a wife? I mean, describe your ideal woman.”
Reilly sighed, exasperated. “Prudence,” Reilly said
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