Tempting Fate Part 6

*Benefit?' Gabby blurts out. *What's wrong with CVS?'

Olivia gives her a withering look. *At seventeen? I need the good stuff for my skin now.'

*I go to CVS!' pipes up Alanna.

*For make-up?' Gabby looks at her eleven-year-old in horror.

Alanna shrugs. *Just mascara. And maybe lip gloss.'

*First of all, no,' Gabby says to Alanna. *You shouldn't be wearing any make-up at this age, and Olivia, I don't know about Benefit. That stuff's expensive. Can't we please just go to CVS?'

*No!' Olivia says. *Everyone goes to Benefit, and I can't wear the stuff from CVS any more. It gives me allergies.'

Gabby looks at her sceptically. *Since when?'

Olivia doesn't break eye contact. *Since it started giving me allergies.'

*Well, what do you need? Maybe we can go to Benefit, but it depends how much you need. I don't mind buying one or two things.'

*Thank you, Mom!' Olivia leans over and plants a kiss on Gabby's cheek. They both know they will be walking out of the store with a bag filled with make-up. Olivia is delighted she will get her way; Gabby is happy not to have a fight on her hands and can go back to thinking about Matt.

The more she thinks, the more humiliated she becomes. She wishes she hadn't sent the blossom, wishes she wasn't sitting here feeling stupid for having done so, wishes she hadn't responded to anything, and certainly not with the overt flirtation she now deeply regrets.

*I'm going to bed.' Gabby leans over to kiss Elliott, then the girls, all transfixed by The Voice.

*Stay!' Elliott says. *You always watch this with us.'

She stands up. *Not tonight. I'm tired. I'm going up to read.'

Her book manages to take her mind off the lack of response, although she allows herself another read of his emails before she switches off the light. Perhaps it is her turn to write back, she thinks suddenly, making sense of his silence throughout the afternoon. Perhaps that's what he's waiting for?

But no. She can't. Stop this, she tells herself. You are a grown-up getting yourself worked into a state over a man you don't care about. If you're getting attached to some outcome here, it's you that's doing it, not him. This is ridiculous, and I'm not going to respond any more.

Feeling much better, she switches off the light, curls up and goes to sleep.

At 2.34 a.m., Gabby wakes up. Next to her, Elliott lies on his back, snoring loudly.

*Ssssh,' she says loudly, close to his ear. He doesn't move. *Elliott, you're snoring,' she says, pushing him so that he rolls over gently, still fast asleep.

Gabby slides her iPhone off the nightstand and scrolls through her emails. Junk, mostly. And one from Matt.

Her heart pounds as she creeps out of bed and into the bathroom, refusing to read the email until she is alone and safe; it is a treat she wants to savour.

Ms Sloth a I love the picture of you curling up on the sofa in the fall. And your description of spring makes me long to be there a I'm going to have to start marking off the days. I went surfing today, which is the greatest advantage of living here. I'm attaching a picture taken with a group of my surf friends. Surfing, to me, is the greatest feeling in the world. You can probably tell by my smile that the waves were awesome today. So however much I miss the changing seasons, take me away from the water for any length of time and I suspect I'd die.

An ex-girlfriend of mine was just like you. She loved winter, and warmth, and just didn't understand surfing. No surprise why that relationship didn't work out a although had she had sparkling green eyes, things might have ended differently ... who knows :) I must stop flirting with you! I'm sorry, I know it's inappropriate. You just make me smile.

M x Matt, or as I now think of you, Surf Dude a um ... your friends look great but ... wow. It was hard to focus on them when ... I mean ... good LORD! Well, thank you for sending me a half-naked picture of you with a surfboard and a tan a I'll say this for you: you definitely know how to brighten up the day of a middle-aged housewife. I'm tempted to print it out and put it on the fridge a you'd be next to the calendar of the local firefighters, and you'd definitely give them a run for their money a but then I might have some explaining to do ...

I have no idea why I'm awake in the middle of the night. It seems to be the curse of middle age (I know, I know, I'll shut up about it in a minute), but no one I know sleeps any more. Oh, all the men do a they're sleeping like babies, but all us women are up at 2.46 writing emails and reading the Huffington Post.

I should really get up a there's so much I could get done, but bed is so warm and cosy that I'm quite happy lying there, just letting my mind play havoc and losing myself in fantasies ...

Oh no. I think I'm giving away all my innermost secrets. I'm supposed to let you think I'm super-fit and healthy, and interested in all sports, especially surfing, and instead I'm revealing that I'm happiest curled up either on the sofa or in my bed. It's pathetic. I don't know what's happened to me. I used to be filled with energy. When I was even younger than you (I know how patronizing that sounds and I'm sorry, but bear with me) I wasn't surfing, but I was skiing, and ice-skating, and in summer I'd go hiking all the time. I got completely addicted to spinning, for about five minutes, but it was a pretty intense and happy five minutes.

The last couple of years have been ... harder. It used to be that my husband was paid a decent salary and was able to be home tons, but now his salary has been cut, and, in order to make anything like he used to, he has to work every hour that G.o.d sends.

Gabby presses delete and erases that last paragraph in its entirety.

I keep thinking that one day I'll wake up and feel alive again, instead of sleepwalking through my life, but I'm still waiting ... Maybe I should take up surfing?

Sorry to be on a downer. Clearly I need more sleep ... Am off to try to trick my brain into thinking it's tired.

Big hug, Ms Sloth xo P. S. I didn't even realize you were flirting! Keep calm and carry on ...

Oh Ms Sloth a you sent me a package of spring! Thank you for the blossom that arrived today. Now I can't wait until I'm back on the east coast.

I wish I was there now and could give you a big hug and make you feel better. The only thing I know for certain is that everything pa.s.ses. The good times, the bad times ... not that these are bad times, but if you're feeling down it will pa.s.s.

Did I ever tell you, by the way, how much I love your accent? I've always wanted to go to London but the timing's never been right. I think you said that's where you're from. Do you miss it?

If I plan a trip, you'll have to tell me all the places to see and things to do. One of the things I hate is seeing anywhere as a tourist a I always try to go with contacts ready so I can see the real city, rather than the tourist version.

I want to know what the locals do, where they eat, what bars they go to. Even writing this now is getting me excited a I'm thinking London needs to be next on my list.

And now I have to be serious with you. Listen very carefully. YOU ARE NOT A MIDDLE-AGED HOUSEWIFE. G.o.d, woman. Will you listen to yourself? You're gorgeous! I don't want to hear those words from you ever again. Seriously. You're doing yourself a ma.s.sive disservice every time you think those words, and I can tell you think them all the time, which is nuts.

So, I am sending you a sandy hug from Malibu a I hope the blues go flying out through the window ...

SD x SD a the blues did indeed fly out through the window and I have started sleeping extremely well. You obviously have the magic touch. And I have to say I've been feeling better the last few days than I have done in years. I'm also mortified about revealing quite so much to a relative stranger on email. I'm truly sorry, and I promise to keep things light from here on.

You asked if I miss London. I never miss it when I'm here. My life is here, my friends, my family, although, obviously, my parents are still in London, but I have always felt as at home here as I felt over there. Often more so. But I have to be honest: whenever we visit, and as soon as I touch down at Heathrow, I start to feel desperately homesick. That's when I realize I've missed the cabbies that start chatting to you about politics the moment you get in the cab; I've missed the cafe culture a sitting around for hours drinking cappuccinos and putting the world to rights. I've missed Europe a hopping over to France or Italy for the weekend, mixing with other cosmopolitan people who have travelled, seen the world, are interested in everything around them.

But there are pros and cons to everything. It's shockingly expensive, and I suspect I couldn't raise my kids there even if I wanted to. The British love children as long as they're basically seen and not heard, and I can't imagine my very American children going down too well a they're much too loud and opinionated.

Actually, that's not strictly true. Olivia, the elder, has always been loud and opinionated, and as stubborn as an elephant. Alanna was always my baby, and so easy, but she's at that awkward age when the social pressures of school are starting to get to her, and she's becoming more and more moody by the day.

Despite all that, and particularly despite missing the days when they were tiny a how easy it was and how lovely they were a I wouldn't change a thing.

One of the things I have always adored about this country is how easy it is to live here, especially with children. You can park everywhere, take them anywhere. So many places to go, things to do. We live an hour outside of New York City in a town that has fantastic beaches and a munic.i.p.al country club! What's not to love?

I guess, if I had to pick one thing I miss, it's the sophistication of Europe. I miss the culture. It's so easy to get lazy living in a small suburban town, and I worry I've become very lazy. Why go anywhere else when you have everything you need on your doorstep, and that doorstep is so pretty?

So ... changing tack entirely. You mentioned an ex-girlfriend. I imagine you're extremely busy playing the field a a different girl in every port, and probably more than one, you charmer, you!

Miss Sloth xo My dearest Ms Sloth a apologies for not replying sooner, but work was just crazy for a while.

Anyway, to pick up the thread, how very wrong you are about a different girl in every port. I will admit that I'm not exactly a hermit, and yes, I certainly do manage to go out and party quite a bit, and yes, I'll also admit that I like women. A lot. But as much as I like having fun, there's a part of me that would love to settle down.

In many ways, dating was much easier before we set up the company and it grew into the business it is now. When I was just *Matt', I never had to question people's motives in wanting to befriend me, or flirt with me. The hardest thing about having any kind of public profile is that suddenly everyone knows who you are. You find yourself surrounded by people, and yes, by people I mean women, and they're fun, and gorgeous, and all over you, but there's this part of your brain that's always asking: are they with me for *me', or because of who I am, because they think I have power, or money, or whatever?

During the last year there were times when I started to think very seriously about settling down. I come from a big family a I have four brothers and sisters, and I'm the only one not married. My mom keeps hinting that she'd love grandchildren, and I have to say that when I'm around friends with kids, I start wondering if I might be getting closer ...

What are your girls like? How old are they? I bet you're an amazing mother. I see you as being really fun, but probably quite strict. I have a great friend here, Eleanor, who's English, and she's really stern with her kids, but they all adore her. They also all have the greatest manners of any kids I know. They actually shake hands and look you in the eye, and always say please and thank you. I've asked Eleanor if she might consider having my kids, because when I have them I want them to be exactly like hers, but she said her husband wouldn't be too happy.

You apologized for revealing so much to a relative stranger. The weird thing is, you don't feel like a stranger. I know we hardly know each other, but you feel like a really close friend. In fact, I don't think I've revealed this much of myself to anyone before. I have no idea why that is a you're just really easy to *talk' to. When I read your emails I can picture you talking, and it makes me happy. I like having a new best friend on email. I like even more that I get to see you in just a few days ...

SD x SD a isn't it amazing how quickly the time is flying by? But, rest a.s.sured, I have no ulterior motive. Well, I may insist the Martinis are on you, but that's as far as it goes. Luckily for all of us, I'm married, so you're safe from my evil advances and plans to kill you off and steal all your money.

I do understand how hard it must be. A boy I knew from schooldays has become a world-famous actor. I haven't seen him for years, but we have a really good mutual friend, and apparently he only fraternizes with people he's known for ever, or with other famous people who understand what it's like. And he also says he resents how distrustful he's become, but he's been burned too many times. Years ago some young tart he had a thing with sold her story to the Sunday papers, and he just retreated after that.

I like what you said about children. It seems I misjudged you, my Surf Dude friend, and thank you for saying such nice things about what you think I must be like as a mother. My children would disagree entirely! In truth, I do adore being a mother, but it isn't, as it seems to be for so many of the women around here, the be-all and end-all. I love my children, but I don't need, nor do I want, to be involved in every aspect of their lives. There's a woman in town, Trish, who has a hugely successful business and yet she manages to be at the school pretty much every day. I have no idea what she's doing there, but she volunteers for everything, and if there's nothing on offer she'll just show up with a tray of cupcakes and a large smile.

It makes me furious! b.i.t.c.h that I am! I am firmly of the belief that what your children do at school is in the hands of the school. There are so many women here who are defined solely by their children; they're women who don't even exist in their own right any more because they see themselves only as X's mom. I've always done stuff outside of motherhood, even though I haven't had a *job' for years. Amongst other things, I restore furniture, and paint, and can make pretty much anything if you give me a workbench and a jigsaw.

Oh, the things you're learning about me! Nothing quite as s.e.xy as a woman with a hammer. Kidding! But I am reaching the point where I've actually started to want to do something. For years I've talked about not being defined by my kids, by motherhood, but now I'm feeling that I need a job. And it's more than want ... it is NEED. The truth is, I always thought I was going to have another child. I just never felt done, and even though the window of opportunity was narrowing, I kept thinking it would happen. But what's become very clear over the last six months is that there will be no more babies in my future, and that dream has left me with an emptiness inside that needs to be filled somehow.

I need something to fill my mind, something to keep me busy. I've thought about turning my hobby into a bigger project, a business a I have sold restored pieces to friends over the years, and Claire, who's my closest friend, has always said I should open some kind of a store. We have a barn on our property and I turned half of it into a workshop, so that's where I work, and she thinks I should open it as a store. I love the idea, but get a little overwhelmed when I think of all I'd have to do.

But I do know I need to fill the void.

Counting the days until I see you!

Ms Sloth xo Ms Sloth a it isn't lucky you're married. I'd say it's hugely unlucky. For me. ;) Also, I beg to differ about a woman with a hammer ...

And finally, I know you have no ulterior motive. That's why I like you. I'm leaving now for the airport. I wish I didn't have so many meetings before I see you, but I'll email when I land!

M x

Chapter Nine.

Gabby is not a woman who particularly enjoys shopping. Most of her clothes are bought online; when forced to buy in person she is most likely to run to Main Street for stretch trousers and some long-sleeved Tshirts from Gap, rarely anything more sophisticated. Dressing up has never been very interesting to her.

When she was young and growing up in London, she would watch movies about American teenagers and long to wear the clothes they wore. She wanted faded jeans and Converse trainers, baseball shirts and topsiders.

She was something of a tomboy back then, and even now, if she isn't in clogs or Merrells, she is most likely to be in her Converse trainers, although she will team them with yoga pants and a cute hoodie.

She pulls her curls back into a ponytail and jumps in the car, actually looking forward to shopping, hoping she will find the outfit she's looking for, because she has one in mind. She knows exactly what she wants to project: rumpled, s.e.xy, confident a a woman who is fully aware of the power she holds.

Leggings and boots made of the softest leather, ones that reach up to her knees, maybe over. The long, sky-blue, sheer alpaca sweater she noticed in the window of Great Stuff, with the great charm necklace they paired with it, and the fine cashmere scarf in the same colour, twisted loosely round the neck.

That's what she wants to wear when she meets Matt for a drink this week. Nothing suggestive. She certainly doesn't want to be provocative a but how lovely it is to be noticed, to be flirted with. This is an outfit that Gabby has carefully put together in her mind, hoping it will be beautiful and s.e.xy, without shouting anything, without sending any messages to Matt that she is interested in anything other than a friendship.

Not that she hasn't imagined something happening, but she has thought it only a handful of times, and is trying very hard to stop. She knows this is an indulgence, a fantasy. This isn't what their correspondence is about, and even if there may be chemistry between them, that doesn't mean anything.

Gabby thinks of all the times she and her friends have discussed people who have been caught having affairs. None of them have ever understood it. Just because you're married doesn't mean you'll never be attracted to anyone else, Gabby has always said. But the point is that you have a choice, and you should choose to do the right thing; you shouldn't act on your attraction.

She still believes those words to be true, but when she was discussing this with her friends she hadn't ever been attracted to anyone else. It is very easy to say things like that when temptation has never crossed your path.

Temptation is crossing her path now. She absolutely wants to believe she won't do anything; she is telling herself over and over that they are just friends. But if he were to lean over and kiss her, she honestly doesn't know if she would have the strength to resist.

In her mind, she pushes him away. But not before she feels his lips, his tongue, holds his top lip between her own. She will push him back gently while shaking her head. *No,' she will say, regret and desire etched on her face. *We can't. I'm married. I love my husband.'

He will understand, and let her go, knowing that he may have lost the one woman who could make him happy. They will resolve not to stay in touch, and Gabby will be weighed down with sadness for a few days; but then she will be buoyed by the rightness of her decision and fall in love with Elliott all over again.

Where is Elliott in all this? He doesn't feature much. Her thoughts have been wholly and all-consumingly filled with Matt. She wakes up in the night with his name on her lips, and carries her mobile phone with her all day, glancing at the screen every few minutes to see if there is a new message.

Elliott is accusing her of daydreaming all the time. And it is true a she may be going through the motions but she is not present in her life. Half the time she has a dreamy smile on her lips which, when asked, she will put down to thinking about a funny TV show, or something that the girls said (and she is getting used to having stories ready); the rest of the time she is trying not to feel blue that six hours, twelve, eighteen, have gone by and still Matt hasn't responded. She will feel embarra.s.sed, and angry, will vow not to respond to his next email, but then it will arrive, and it will be so lovely that she will stop whatever she is doing to find a quiet corner so that she can send him back her innermost thoughts.

Gabby pulls into a spot behind Main Street, then cuts through Gap, not glancing around today, but going straight to the shoe store. The boots have no heel, but are beautifully cut, narrow, made of Italian leather. She pulls them on then tucks her yoga pants into them as she studies herself in the mirror, a smile on her face.

This morning she told Elliott she was thinking of going shopping. Because she is so bad at it, because she dislikes it so much, on those rare occasions she announces she is going to spend some money Elliott always encourages her.

*What are you looking for?' Elliott asked, watching her as she pulled off her robe to get dressed.

Gabby shrugged. *I just feel like all I wear is jeans or leggings. I have no idea why I grew up to be a teenage boy, but I feel like I need some more feminine clothes. I saw a sweater on Main Street that I'm slightly obsessing about, and I thought I might get some new knee-high boots.'

Elliott's face lit up. *Mmm, s.e.xy!' He pulled Gabby over, murmuring in pleasure as he held her naked body close.

*Oh stop.' Gabby stepped back, laughing.

*Why stop?' Elliott said, moving back in, but Gabby's smile disappeared.

*I'm serious, Ell. I have a ton to do. I need to get dressed.'

Elliott put up his hands. *Okay, okay. Sorry. Forgive me.'

Gabby got dressed quickly and silently, not looking at Elliott again. There were times of late when he had been getting on her nerves, and she found herself snapping at him far more than she would like.

She knows her hormones are raging, and does plan to see a doctor, an endocrinologist, someone to help, but life is always so busy, and tomorrow never comes. And so she is left to take it out on her husband. She is filled with remorse afterwards and tries to make it up to him, only to find she is still irritated.

Gabby is not stupid. She knows this is her resentment at his decision to have the vasectomy, a resentment that is choosing to come out now because she is projecting perfection onto an alternative man. Which doesn't mean it isn't real. This is the resentment she has been trying to push down so hard for so many months; but it is refusing to disappear and is instead growing stronger.

In the store she tries on the sweater. It is even better than she had imagined. The girls in the store crowd round to compliment her, layering on jewellery, scarves, a shearling vest, then running to the other side of the store and coming back with trousers and another wonderful sweater that would look perfect on her.

She leaves with three large bags, and walks straight into Claire on the street outside.

*What are you doing here?' Claire looks at her bags, aghast. *Am I sleepwalking? I'm looking at three bags of clothes from my favourite store, and you hate shopping. Actually, you hate clothes.'

*I know! Can you believe it?' Gabby laughs. *Elliott gave me permission to feminize my wardrobe, so what's a girl to do? I had to take him up on it.'