Wrong Mrs. Vale

Nancy

“Peter? Did you do the task I asked you to do?” I asked as I entered my son's room. The ten-year-old boy stood in front of the various computers wearing a headset, entertained as animated images of gunfire and death flashed across the computer screens. I took a look at the boy's room and sighed. “You might as well start tidying your room, darling,” I grumbled, starting to pick up the dirty clothes that were scattered around the room, footballs, expired food, etc. 

“Why would I do that, Mom? Isn’t Dad paying a bunch of servants to do this work?” replied the boy. 

“Even so, you still have legs and arms, my little man; you might as well put your dirty underwear away where they belong,” I replied, sighing again, seeing that he wouldn't be leaving the computer anytime soon. 

“You’re such a grouch, Mom. This is typical of women; Dad was right when he said that you are a bunch of wimps who are only good for housework and serving men,” he said, mirroring what his father always said. 

I pressed my lips together in a thin, straight line, wanting to tell that boy some good truths, but he was my son, and it wasn't his fault for what his father taught him. I just sighed and left his room with dirty clothes and a frustrated look. 

We lived in a big mansion outside of Denver. The Morton family was the richest in the region; they had great prestige and influence over the city as they owned the largest investment company in the region, which made them increasingly rich. 

I had been living with the Mortons for several years since I had married Bruce, their eldest son, and with him, I had raised two children: Peter, who at that moment was engrossed in games, which in my opinion did not look healthy for a ten-year-old; and Amber, who at this time, was studying fashion in New York. 

If you asked me if I considered myself a well-rounded and happy woman, would I say maybe? My marriage had been by contract; I hated it at the time for being handed over to a man I had never seen before, but when the children started to appear, I began to love my husband, even though he had very few qualities towards me. Today, I live for my children first, so yes, I consider myself a satisfied woman. 

My cell phone rang, and I answered it as soon as I arrived in the laundry area, putting the dirty clothes in the washing machine. “Hi, dear,” I said. 

“So, kitten? Are you ready for tonight? Did you try the little gift I sent you?” Lanie, my longtime friend, asked in a mischievous voice. 

I almost blushed when I remembered the little gift she had sent me; it was simply a very flashy red lingerie that even came with some accessories. I was so surprised when I opened the package and saw the scandalous piece of underwear that I quickly returned it to the package and stored it in a well-hidden place at the back of my closet. 

“Oh, about your gift… It's just… Um... Thanks, Lanie, but I can't wear that,” I said, turning on the washing machine. 

“Hey, why not? Didn't you say today was your wedding anniversary? Being married for twenty years is a long time, friend; you deserve a celebration,” she insisted. 

“It's just, I don't know if Bruce will like it…” I replied fearfully. Most of the time, my husband was cold and distant with me; we never did any kind of spicy things like other couples. 

“Well, you'll have to try to find out, won't you, Nancy? You guys need to spice up your relationship somehow. Open some champagne, put on your lingerie, and get sensual for him, and I guarantee you that your night will be so good that it will be as if you were back in your twenties,” she said, supporting the idea. 

I nodded slightly with a constrained chuckle. “Maybe you're right, Lanie…” I said, feeling really tempted to do the things she suggested. 

****

“The lamb is very good, Nancy. Thank you for the meal,” said Charles, my father-in-law, while the whole family was at the table enjoying a beautiful dinner. Charles's wife, Glory, a pretty woman younger than me, was sitting next to him, feeding their five-year-old son, the newest member of the Morton family. 

“No need to thank me, Charles,” I replied to my father-in-law. 

“And I don’t get any compliments? I also helped her prepare the meal,” demanded Candace, a young woman who was the wife of Harald, the second son of the Morton family. 

“Thank you too, Candace,” my father-in-law corrected himself. 

“See, it didn’t cost anything,” said the girl. Everyone knew that Candace was a bit of a hothead. Bruce, who was next to me, chuckled at the girl's behavior and then went back to eating in silence; he couldn't even praise my food. “By the way,” the girl said again, “can I know when my husband returns from his trip? I miss him so much; you can't imagine how difficult it is to sleep alone in the middle of the cold, shitty forest where we live.” I couldn't blame her; the girl was from California. 

“I'm sorry you have to be sleeping alone, my dear daughter-in-law, but Harald had to go to Washington to attend to important matters, but he'll be back by next week,” my father-in-law said softly. 

“Argh, that's what it's like to marry important men,” Candace complained, looking at her manicured nails. 

“If you want, I can sleep with you, Candie,” suggested my idiot little son, with his elbows on the table, his chin touching his palms, and a silly, passionate expression directed at Candace, who gave him a look of disgust. 

"First, learn to clean up your snot, boy,” she replied, making everyone laugh. 

“Speaking of Harald, Dad, are you sure you can trust this company in Washington enough to invest so much money? I'm afraid it's too big a risk to take,” my husband said, bringing up the subject of work. So he and his father talked about it for some time, since only the two of them understood what they were talking about. 

Meanwhile, all I could think about was the scorching night I had decided to prepare for my husband's porcelain wedding.