Monarch Beach by Anita Hughes Read Free Book Online Page A

city.
    “We’ll move to Marin,” he said.
    “We can’t afford to move to Marin.” I shook my head.
    “There are apartments in Marin.”
    “There aren’t any apartments in Ross. The only way I’m moving to Marin,” I said carefully, “is if we let my mother buy us a house.”
    “Your mother cannot buy us a house.” Andre shook his head.
    “For our baby. She wants to do something for us. She wanted to be your partner,” I reminded him.
    “Darling, I would never be a partner with a family member.” His voice softened and he reached for my hand in the dark.
    “Then let her buy us a house in Ross, in the baby’s name. Then you can have your restaurant.” I wanted to go upstairs and climb into bed, but we needed to resolve this first.
    “Okay,” Andre said finally. “But it must be a very small house, and I will pay her back when the restaurant is on its feet.” He leaned over to kiss me on the cheek.
    “Amanda, why are you crying?” he asked in the dark, brushing away the tears on my cheek.
    I couldn’t admit I was terrified of Stephanie stealing him away. “Oh, pregnancy,” I lied. “I cry about everything.”
    “Well, stop crying and kiss me. Let’s go upstairs and I’ll show you how happy I am.”
    The next morning I lay in bed while Andre ran to the market to buy croissants and orange juice. We had made love last night and again this morning, as if Andre was convincing me he couldn’t get enough of me. I leaned against the pillow and willed myself to be happy. We would find a lovely house. Our child would grow up in Ross, playing soccer on the commons. Life would be good. And life was good, until Black Tuesday when I found Andre with his pants down and his legs wrapped around Ursula and it all fell apart.

Chapter Two
    After I stopped hurling stones into the lake, I decided I needed someone to talk to. I didn’t trust myself to drive across the Golden Gate Bridge to see my mother. I thought I would visit Stephanie. She was still a silent partner in La Petite Maison; she should know what was going on in the back room.
    One of the most surprising things about the last decade was that Stephanie and I became best friends. She did have extremely good taste and the restaurant was a success from the day it opened. La Petite Maison occupied a small shop on the commons. Inside there were ten tables, two of them pressed up against the bay windows. Candles sat on linen tablecloths and big murals of Provence covered the walls. The menu was simple: soups and fish and fondue. Over the years, the variety of fondues grew and people came from San Francisco to try Andre’s chocolate fondue and cream cheese fondue.
    In the beginning Stephanie was very involved in the restaurant and I was anxious from morning to night. Andre and I found a small bungalow on a leafy lane near the commons. My mother was thrilled to buy it for us and insisted on decorating it. It was within walking distance of La Petite Maison and it had a sunny flat garden. When I was still pregnant, I spent most of my time at the restaurant “helping.” I was actually spying, making sure Stephanie kept her hands off Andre, and surprisingly she did. She giggled and made suggestive comments, but as far as I could see she kept her hands and her breasts to herself.
    Then Stephanie became pregnant and lost interest in the restaurant. She confided in me that she had a bit of a crush on her ob/gyn, who told her standing for long periods in high heels was bad for her pregnancy. Andre hired a new maître d’ and Stephanie retired to decorate the nursery.
    Max was born in September, and with Stephanie gone from day-to-day operations at the restaurant, I let myself relax and enjoy motherhood. From the moment Max came home from the hospital and I placed him in his crib, he became the center of my universe.
    I didn’t mind Andre’s long hours at the restaurant. Having only one child to follow around, I had plenty of energy to make his meals, rub his feet