The Good Wife by Jane Porter Page A

unathletic, but there was nothing soft about him today. “I didn’t know you ran.”
    “Started to in D.C. Needed something to do when I wasn’t working.” With his hands on his hips, he surveyed the elegant living room with its high ceiling and thick white molding. “We never use this room. Such a waste of space.”
    “I think it’s pretty.”
    “But nonfunctional. I have a problem with that.” He reached up to catch a bead of perspiration on his temple. “I’m sure I reek. I better go shower and then pack.”
    “When do you leave?”
    “Tonight. I’m on the red-eye.”
    Sarah watched him climb the stairs two at a time, whistling as he went. Strange to see this lean, tan Jack practically bounding up the stairs. He had so much energy. He looked downright boyish, which was such a contrast to Meg, who’d put on ten to fifteen pounds in the past six months, weight she didn’t need.
    Meg entered the living room, her low heels clicking on the hardwood floor, her dark hair pulled back in a haphazard ponytail. “Did I hear Jack?”
    “He’s showering,” Sarah said, increasingly concerned about her oldest sister. Meg wasn’t a classic beauty, but she’d learned to cultivate an elegance and sophistication that made her beautiful, but that elegance and beauty wasn’t in evidence today. “He’d apparently gone for a run.”
    “Good. He should be in a better mood now.” Meg tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she entered the living room to take the bottle of furniture polish and dustcloth from Sarah. “Let’s get out of the house. Go do something fun with the kids.”
    “What do you want to do?”
    “Whatever your kids would enjoy. It’s your last day here. Let’s make it fun.”
    “They like everything. We could go to a park . . . a movie—”
    “How about a movie? I need to relax. Escape.”
    “I’ll check Fandango and see what’s playing.”
    Twenty minutes later, Meg, Sarah, and the four younger kids climbed into Meg’s Lexus wagon and headed off to see
The Lorax,
which was still playing at one of the smaller theaters in Santa Rosa. Jack stayed home to finish packing, and JJ went to hang out at his girlfriend’s house.
    They got to the theater almost a half hour before the movie started, so Meg gave Tessa money for snacks and sent her and the kids out to the concession stand while Meg and Sarah camped out in the virtually empty auditorium, saving their seats.
    “No one’s here,” Meg said, scanning the rows of empty seats.
    “The movie has been out for months, which I like. I love having the theater to ourselves,” Sarah said, propping her feet up on the seat in front of her. “When it’s empty like this, I don’t have to worry about Ella annoying people by talking or Brennan bouncing in his seat.”
    “Your kids are still so little.”
    “Ella’s easy. A little clingy, but she’s so sweet, I don’t really mind. It’s Brennan who pushes my buttons. He just doesn’t listen.”
    “He’s only eight.”
    “Almost nine.”
    “But that’s young.”
    “Dad expected us to listen and follow directions by the time we were three.”
    Meg shrugged, unable to disagree. Obedience was as important as respect in their family. If you were told to do something, you did it. The first time you were asked.
    Well, unless you were Brianna, because Brianna had her own rules. Probably because Brianna was her own species. Sarah laughed.
    Meg glanced at her. “What?”
    “I was just thinking about Bree.”
    “Thought you were mad at her?”
    “It’s hard to stay mad at Brianna forever. She’s just so . . . Bree. Free Bree. Doesn’t listen to anyone. Not even Mom or Dad.”
    Meg didn’t answer, and for several minutes neither said anything, both looking at the screen, reading the parade of movie trivia, before Meg broke the silence. “What do you think is wrong with her?”
    “Besides being certifiably crazy?”
    “Sarah!”
    Sarah rolled her eyes. “I’m joking. Come on.