Menage by Alix Kates Shulman Read Free Book Online

you’ll like her.”
    In his time, Zoltan had liked several of his friends’ wives a little too well, though he liked to think he’d learned a few things from experience, among them the price of disloyalty. In the thin light he studied the smile on the fresh North American face. If the arrangement were to work, he’d have to win her over. Otherwise a wife could make more trouble than a husband could guess.
    Mack showed him another photo. “And here are our kids, Chloe and Jamie.”
    But Zoltan needed to see no more. “Very tempting offer, Mack, if sincere. Soon I hope to get a book contract, but until then, if I become desperate, I may accept.”
    Mack recognized the look. “You don’t have to be desperate. Just come.”
    For a moment, something made Zoltan hesitate. He didn’t understand Mack’s purpose. Marriage mystified him. But after another look at the spectacular house, he decided that it was not his problem.
    Hearing no objection, Mack reached into his briefcase for
Fire Watch
. “One more thing, if you don’t mind. I wonder if you would sign this book for me.” He handed it to Zoltan.
    Zoltan was deeply pleased. “You are full of surprises, Mack. Where did you get that book?”
    â€œYou can inscribe it to Heather too. To both of us.”
    Zoltan took a pen from his pocket, put it to his teeth, and thought. He had inscribed many books, but it was never easy in English to achieve the right tone between close and distant, hot and cool. He turned to the title page and wrote in his upright European script, “
For Mack and Heather, May this opportunity enrich us all
.”
    But perhaps that was too blunt, too direct? He frowned and began a new line, softening the message with “
Toward friendship
.” Then, with an extravagant flourish that rendered all letters but the first illegible, he signed his full authorial name.

 
    8         FROM THE MOMENT MACK carried his suitcase through the door and kissed her, Heather knew something was up. It seemed that no sooner had she managed to adjust to his absence than she had to make room for his return. Each time he flew off on a business trip she felt danger lurking, but usually when he returned he fell into bed exhausted, and she felt safe again. This time he arrived still flying.
    â€œI’m starving!” said Mack, dropping his suitcase and handing her a shopping bag.
    She took the bag warily. Mack often brought her double-edged gifts: useless electronic gadgets, equipment she would never use, delicacies she didn’t know how to serve, exotic plants destined to die. And even when he bought her things shewould never have bought herself but which delighted her—Victorian jewelry, designer clothes, and for her last birthday an energy-efficient hybrid Toyota Prius, there was often an ulterior motive—some expiation or bribe—and a hidden price to pay.
    She peered into the bag. “Artichokes? There must be a dozen!” Mack was incapable of moderation.
    â€œThey were picked yesterday, the biggest, freshest chokes I have ever seen, so I loaded up. What do you think, babe?”
    â€œThey are gorgeous, Mack, but my god, so many!”
    â€œThat’s okay. We can polish off a few right now.”
    â€œA few? At this hour?”
    â€œI’m still on California time. And don’t you know artichoke prickles are aphrodisiacs, also reputed to cure jet lag? Come here, you.”
    The kiss was passionate, maybe too passionate, as if they had not been long married or knocked all the way to New Jersey by having children.
    He slapped her bottom affectionately. “Why don’t you get the water boiling while I hang up my suits.” He started toward the stairs down to their bedroom (he had designed the house for maximum energy efficiency by tucking it snugly into the hillside, with bedrooms below, under a sod roof, andliving rooms above,