The English Wife. Doreen Roberts

      From the Author

      Dear Reader,

      As a young bride, I left my native England and everything near and dear to me to start life over in the U.S. Thirty years later, at the age of fifty-eight, once more I left behind everything that I loved—family, friends and the neighborhood I’d lived in all those years—to drive to the opposite coast and start over again.

      The English Wife is Marjorie’s story, not mine, but her pain, her fear and her struggles to find her way in an unfamiliar and confusing world are all echoes of my past. Life throws changes at us, some small, some huge. It isn’t easy starting over, but we women are strong. When faced with whatever comes next, we struggle to make the best of it in the hopes that the new door will lead us to a measure of peace and, if we’re lucky, a better life.

      I was one of the lucky ones. I wish all of you as much happiness as I found in my new life. If you’d like to know more, visit me at www.doreenrobertshight.com.

      Always yours,

      Doreen Roberts

      To my wise and patient editor, Susan Litman. Thank you for all the great suggestions and advice. Your support and encouragement mean everything to me.

      To my talented and generous critique partner, Jennifer Hoffman, for taking time out of your own writing to help me with mine. Thanks for challenging

       me, and for reminding me that there’s always room for learning.

      To my likewise talented Web pal, Lauren Nichols, for all the times you’ve let me whine, and all the nice things you’ve said to make me feel better.

      Finally, and most of all, to my dear husband, Bill, for truly listening, for understanding, for loving me enough to give me all the time and space I need—and above all, for keeping your promise and giving me a whole new world. I’ll love you forever.

      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER 1

      CHAPTER 2

      CHAPTER 3

      CHAPTER 4

      CHAPTER 5

      CHAPTER 6

      CHAPTER 7

      CHAPTER 8

      CHAPTER 9

      CHAPTER 10

      CHAPTER 11

      CHAPTER 12

      CHAPTER 13

      CHAPTER 14

      CHAPTER 15

      CHAPTER 16

      CHAPTER 17

      CHAPTER 18

      CHAPTER 19

      CHAPTER 20

      CHAPTER 1

      It’s strange how a single sentence can totally change your life. That’s all it took to change mine.

      I sat in James Starrett’s immaculate office, mistakenly thinking that the worst shock of Brandon’s death was behind me. Outside the window, rhododendrons soaked up the sun after a long bout of Seattle rain. I wished I could be out there with them, instead of trapped inside that stuffy room. James’s voice was enough to send me to sleep as he droned on about the will.

      He sat behind a massive desk that gleamed in the rays of sunlight pouring through the window behind him. When he finally paused in his lengthy commentary and raised his eyebrows at me, it took me a moment or two to realize I might have missed something important. I leaned forward. “What did you say?”

      He frowned at me over his rimless glasses. “I was saying, I’d think about selling your property in England.”

      I groped through the fog in my head to make sense of his words. They seemed to hang in the air between us, about as clear as if he’d spoken in Japanese.

      I’d had trouble making sense of anything the past few weeks. At first I couldn’t convince myself that Brandon wasn’t coming back. Or maybe I was afraid to accept it. As long as I floated along in my little cushion of denial, I wouldn’t feel the pain that I knew was waiting to crush me.

      I missed him, of course. I kept expecting him to walk in the house, demanding his double-malt scotch, and grumbling because dinner wasn’t ready. The house seemed so lonely and empty without him, yet I wasn’t hurting the way I thought a new widow should hurt. I kept waiting for that to happen.

      I seemed to live in a vacuum, where no one could reach me, and I had to give myself orders so I wouldn’t forget to eat or shower or comb my hair. It was a strange existence. I felt like a character living in a book, waiting for the reader to turn another page.

      No wonder I couldn’t understand James, even though he’d said it twice. I gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

      I didn’t like the uncomfortable expression that crept into his colorless eyes. “I said, you need to think about selling your property in England.”

      I sat staring at him for the longest time, letting the words sink in. Even then, they still didn’t make sense. “Property?” My voice sounded as if I’d swallowed sand. “In England?”

      “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “The cottage in Miles End, Devon. It’s on half an acre of land, so it should fetch a good price. It’s occupied at the moment…ah… Eileen Robbins is the name…but you should be able to get around that. The woman might even be willing to buy it from you. I can put you in touch with a good agent over there, if you like.”

      I pulled myself upright on the hard chair and shook my head in a vain effort to focus.

      James went on in his dry voice as if he were totally unaware of the havoc he was creating in my muddled mind. “Three bedrooms, living room, kitchen and bathroom. I’m told that’s considered