Dreams of an Easy Life
“It can’t be! Are you telling me he gave you that much after the divorce? And he still pays for everything the children need?” Jane’s voice trembled with disbelief. “And he’s only the youngest, right?”
Martha just smiled faintly and shrugged, as though they were discussing nothing at all extraordinary.
“For Owen, it makes no difference at all,” she replied serenely. “He loves both Henry and Emily. Hes always bringing presents, takes them to the seaside twice a year. Its just what he does. He has the means, so why not?”
Jane fiddled with her cup of now-cold tea, her eyes dark with envynot bitter, but sharp, quick, undeniable. She wanted desperately to understand: what would it be like to live without worrying about tomorrow, never counting pennies, never dreading the next rent or the tyres wearing thin on the car.
“And what if he marries again?” Jane managed, trying to sound offhand, but a sly note still crept into her words. “And the money dries up? What will you do then?”
Martha laugheda genuine, easy laugh, neither defensive nor annoyed. She could see Jane’s disbelief; after all, such generosity and security were close to unimaginable.
“Since we split, he’s already remarried and divorced,” she explained, smiling still. “That’s just Owen. A notorious romantic.” She paused, glancing at the window as if recalling the whole theatre of his love life. “In all, he’s been married five times. And each ex-wife is well provided for.”
Jane stared at her, trying to process the ideaa man who, despite his hunger for new relationships, keeps his word, cares for those he once loved. It was so unlike the world she knew, where divorces usually left only heartbreak and endless squabbling over money.
“Goodness…” she exhaled, still unable to quite believe it. “He’s one of a kind, isnt he…”
Jane spun her teaspoon absentmindedly, eyes fixed on the dregs at the bottom of her cup. Her mind racedcalculating, hungry, quick. The story Martha had shared was intoxicating. A rich, generous man, not stingy with his ex-wivessuch men were rare, a one-in-a-million chance. Catching him, though, would be far from easy. But if she managed it
“Even a short marriage to him could solve all my money worries for good,” she thought, her fists clenching beneath the table. “If I had his child Id be set for years.”
She looked up at Martha, trying to keep her voice light, “Is he married now?”
Martha raised her brows, hearing not just curiosity, but a deeper, more personal interest. She knew her friend too well and caught the change immediately.
“No. Interested, are you? Well, forget it, dear. Owen can spot a gold-digger from a mile off. He only ever chooses from his own set.”
Jane felt her insides twist; she tried to hide her disappointment behind a forced smile and wave of her hands.
“Oh, come off it, I was only asking,” she said with a laugh that was just a bit too sharp, too loud. “Ive got my principles, you know! I wouldnt marry a man who could swap me out for someone else with a snap of his fingers. Imagine worrying every day whether hes met someone more amusingyoud need nerves of steel!”
There was an edge of wounded pride in her voicewhether at Martha, or herself for letting the thought even flicker through her mind. She tried to smooth it over, adding with a casual shrug, “Besides, I care more about soulmates than money anyway.”
Martha simply smiled, leaving the subject alone. She understood all too well: behind Janes show of bravado was an ordinary, fierce longing for financial peacea human wish, but no less insistent for it.
“Well, that’s as it should be,” Martha replied, sipping her tea. “At least we both know what we want from life.”
Silence settled between them. Jane nervously picked at the edge of the tablecloth, desperate to change the subject. Martha, meanwhile, seemed entirely at easeshe had said what she felt, and had nothing left to prove.
*****
Even after reaching home, Janes mind spun with what she’d heard. She admitted it to herself: she was hopelessly envious of Martha. No, not just enviousshe was burning with the sharp, almost physical urge to be in her shoes. But not as Martha was nowcalm, self-assured, unbreakable. Jane wanted to be the ex-wife of that generous businessman.
What a dream! A generous settlement, lifelong support No worries about the next bill, never panicking over credit card payments, not even thinking about skimping on a summer holiday. She could finally quit her soul-destroying job, that same-old grind of the last five years.
But Jane knewbeing a current wife to such a man was another story. Then shed need to play the part, maintain a spotless reputation: journalists eager for scandal, no clubbing until sunrise, no wild parties. Even innocent flirting with a handsome colleague would be off-limitsa respectable wife had to know her place.
“Itd only be for a couple of years,” she reassured herself, nervously tapping the table. “A year or two, and I could walk away with a nice lump sum. Thats not so hard.”
She eyed her reflection in the hall mirror. Thirty-five wasnt too lateit was still possible to take a bold step, to marry, have a childnature hadn’t closed the door just yet. After? Then her real life could begin.
Jane pictured it: waking up in a sunlit, sprawling bedroom, no screech of the alarm, no endless to-do lists for the day. She imagined leisurely sipping coffee, gazing out at Londons skyline from a penthouse, planning trips without checking ticket prices or sales. At last, she could do all shed ever dreamed of: painting lessons, charity events, travelreal freedom.
“No deadlines, no managers breathing down my neck,” she kept repeating, a little spark of warmth blooming inside. “Just lifeon my terms.”
She couldnt help a faint smile at this idyllic vision, then caught herselfnone of it was real. Yet the possibility pulsed in the back of her mind: “But what if?”
She slumped back into her chair, staring outside. Her brain was already racing with plans: how to edge closer to her goal.
“Becoming Mrs. Knightley” she mused. “Could be worse, especially if you consider what comes with it.”
She knew her strengths. A striking blonde with a models figuremen always turned to look, always tried their luck, always offered flattery and cab rides. But none ever stuck around for longmarriage proposals were thin on the ground.
“Maybe theyre frightened Im high maintenance,” she thought with a faint, resigned smile, “or they know I’m not here for the bare minimum.”
But this wasn’t about romance any moreit was about the future: secure, comfortable, free from financial stress. Well worth giving up some habits.
So, what would it take to catch Owens attention? First, nothing flashysharp cuts, classic colours, no tacky sparkles or plunging necklines.
Second, natural makeupno dramatic eyeliner, no scarlet lipstick. Just a soft base, mascara, and subtle gloss.
And finally, the right manner: poised, subtle, but not meek. Smile, listen, ask questions. Nothing forwardlook too eager, and he’d be gone.
She ran through scenarios in her mind. Where to “bump into” Owen? Charity galas, private art showings, high-society doshe went to every one. And, luck was on Janes sideshe had acquaintances who could “accidentally” make introductions.
“He has seen me before,” she recalled. “When he was with Martha. We crossed paths at a few eventsa vague hello, nothing more. But hell remember my face. So, I wont need to start from scratch.”
The thought that she might truly pull it all off made her giddy. Making an impression was her forte. Now, she just needed to channel it in the right direction.
“I need a proper plan,” she resolved. “Pick the event, map out the look, rehearse a few lines but dont overdo it. Understated class, a hint of intrigue. Show interest, but never desperation.”
Details started slotting into place: the ideal dress, the hairstyle, rehearsed tidbits for conversation. She pictured the way their eyes would meet, him coming over, her replyingnot too cool, not too eager.
A sly smile touched her lips. Anticipation churned insidethe same raw energy that always carried her toward her goals. She never gave up. Not when she set her sights on something real.
“I can do this,” she thought, smiling. “I will do this. And after that everything changes.”
*****
Jane yanked off her earrings and tossed them angrily into the jewellry box. They landed with a clatter, scattering tiny diamond sparks round the room. Owens presentfrom their third date.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, arms clutched about her, Jane seethed. Tonight was their fifth date, and it should have been perfecthed taken her to an exclusive restaurant, handed her a massive bouquet of white roses, then brought her home like a gentleman. But inside, Jane was boiling with frustration.
“Why, though?!” she fumed in her head, eyeing the glittering earrings.
Owen clearly liked hershe could see it in his glances, the care with which he chose venues, the thoughtful presents. Yet, always the same: no hint of more, not a touch, not even a shy ask-in for coffee. Only perfect manners, a peck on the hand, a promise to call.
Jane approached her mirror. She inspected herself: hair immaculate, makeup just so, the blue dress fitting perfectlynot audacious, but elegant and refined. Shed aimed for restraint, sophistication, hoping not to scare Owen off or seem one of those silly women who chased fast thrills.
“Maybe Ive been too proper?” the thought struck her sharply, a little sick twist in her chesthad she somehow missed the mark?
Images from their last few dates flashed before her: lingering talk over dinner, riverside walks, a trip to the National Gallery Charming, yes, but controlled, nearly old-fashioned. Owen was always respectful, even affectionate, but carefulkeeping an invisible wall between them. He never once tried to close the gap.
Jane raked a hand through her flawless hair, ruffling it in irritation.
“What if he just doesnt see me as his type?” stabbed at her mind. “What if Ive been so very proper, he thinks Id never want a real relationship with a man like him? Given his reputation? Five marriages!”
She went to the window, looking down over Londons lights. Life bustled belowlaughter, car horns, music wafting through the night. It seemed so easy, so straightforward. Yet her dealings with Owen were still, staticperfect in form, but lifeless.
“Something has to change,” she decided firmly. “I cant keep going in circles. If I want him to see the real me, to feel more than polite friendship, I need to show it. Im ready for more.”
She glanced back at the earringsthis time, determination burned in her eyes.
“Tomorrow, Ill hint,” she promised herself. “Ill say something light but clear. He needs to know: Im not just his companion for art shows. I want much more. And if he feels the same, hell react.”
Jane took a deep breath, feeling her confidence rising. Yes, it was risky. She could scare him away. But she couldnt just linger like this forever.
“Its time to make a move,” she thought, closing the jewellry box.
*****
Jane checked her phone for the dozenth timenothing. No messages, no calls. She tried to stay calm, but a gnawing anxiety was growing in her chest.
“Of course, hes a very busy man,” she muttered, pacing her flat. “Always in meetings, business tripsParis this week, New York the next. He cant possibly ring every day!”
She tried to concentrate elsewhere: went shopping, met up with friends, even joined a yoga class. But thoughts of Owen kept sneaking back in.
“But what if hes gone off me?” a voice whispered in the back of her mind. “Met someone else?”
She shook the thought away, forcing herself to remember their last datesso sweet, so promising.
“Hell call,” Jane insisted. “He just needs time”
The days dragged. She jumped at every beep or vibration from her phone. At last, almost a week later, as she was pouring herself evening tea after a long day, her mobile buzzed.
Owens name flashed on screen; Jane nearly dropped her mug. Hands shaking, she answered.
“Hello, Jane,” came Owen’s deep, soothing voice. “Sorry I havent called. Been on a business trip, then just swamped”
“Oh, dont worry!” she said, striving for breezy. “I know you must be rushed off your feet.”
“Ive missed you,” he repliedand her heart lurched. “I want to see you. How about tomorrow? Ive booked a table at The Ivy.”
“Id love to!” Jane blurted, barely containing her excitement.
“One more thing” Owen paused. “Theres someone I want you to meet. Some friends of mine.”
Jane frozethrilled. “He wants me to meet his friends? Thats serious! Only someone special gets that far,” she thought.
“Id be delighted,” she replied, steadying her voice though she was fizzing with joy inside.
After they hung up, Jane stood smiling at her phone, dizzy with elation. She mentally ransacked her wardrobe, already planning her outfit. This was it. He wanted her to meet his friends; this was real. Not a casual fling, not another passing romance.
“Finally!” she rejoiced inwardly. “I just had to waitand its come together.”
She spent the entire evening happily preparingmusic on, fancy tea brewing, trying on dresses, scheduling her day in careful detail. Everything needed to be perfect!
Jane spent nearly two hours at the mirror, tweaking every detail. She chose a navy blue dresssimple, shimmering only slightlyaccentuating her bodys lines but modest. Shoes with a tiny heel, neat hair, jewellery kept to a delicate minimum.
“I need to be irresistible tonight, she murmured, touching up her lipstick. “If hes hesitating, hell realise what he stands to lose.”
Dead on seven, the driver rangthe car was waiting. Jane gave her flat a final scan, then left.
She tried to make small talk with the driver, a taciturn man with a face as stony as British cliffs.
“Bit nippy tonight, isn’t it?” she prompted politely.
“Yes,” he agreed, eyes fixed ahead.
“Have you worked for Mr. Knightley long?” she pressed on.
“Long enough,” he said, with no more.
Jane gave up. Shed hoped for even a snippet of inside knowledgeabout Owens hobbies, his routines, his little secrets. But she learned nothing.
“Loyal staff,” Jane grumbled mentally. “No chance there.”
At the restauranta hush of moody lighting, slow-tempo jazzan impeccably dressed waitress guided her to the table.
Jane spotted Owen immediately, immaculate in a suit, every line just so. His tie matched, his hair styleda picture of composed success. He smiled as he saw her, and Janes heart skipped pleasantly.
Yet her smile faltered when she noticed someone else beside Owen.
Seated close, an elegant young woman with artfully styled hair, dressed in expensive but understated clothing. She was deep in conversation with Owen, who listened and nodded, a gentle smile on his lips.
“Who is she?!” Janes heart lurched.
She froze, hiding the momentary panic. Maybe his sister? But shed never heard of a sister. A business partner? But why hereand why then?
“Oh Jane, you look absolutely stunning!” Owen beamed, standing to greet her, eyebrows raised in playful admiration. “Any man would be lucky to have you at his side.”
Jane’s scripted smile became slightly forced. “I hope he means himself,” she thought, nerves tightening. Outwardly, she moved gracefully to her seat.
“Nice of you to say so,” she replied, lowering her gaze.
Owen took his seat opposite, his expression warm, near paternal. He cleared his throat, then turned to include the whole table.
“Jane,” he said earnestly, “in a short while, youve become an excellent friend”
Friend? Just a friend? Jane barely kept her shock from her face. She sat very still, feigning modest gratitude while inside every muscle screamed in protest.
“You get me like no one else,” Owen continued, oblivious to her inner chaos. “Which is why you deserve to hear it first: Im getting married.”
“What? How dare you say that after all my effort?” her mind shrieked. Her cheeks flushedbut Jane steadied herself.
“Congratulations,” she said mechanically, voice wavering just enough. “And the lucky bride?”
“Shes right beside you. My fiancéeLisa.”
Jane turned, really seeing the woman now. Lisa smiled shyly, blushing under Janes stare.
“So that’s why shes here,” Jane thought bitterly. “And there I was, guessing at her connection.”
Jane forced herself to smile, offering a few pressed congratulatory words, admired Lisas ring, inquired about the datesaying all the right things, as though reading from a script.
Inside, a storm raged. She barely heard what anyone said, answering and laughing on autopilot, time crawling by.
After less than twenty minutes, Jane made her escapemurmuring something about an urgent message, gathering her things and sweeping out of the restaurant. Only in the cold air beyond did she breathe at last.
Back at the table, Owen and Lisa sat quietly. Martha stepped over, watching Janes retreat.
“I was right,” Martha sighed, eyeing the door. “She tried to use what I told her to buy herself a carefree life. I can imagine how it mustve stung when you played the perfect gentleman. She thought shed have you wrapped round her little finger in no time.”
Owen just smileda sharp, cold little smilestirring his coffee.
“I can spot the likes of her in a heartbeat,” he said firmly. “No chance.”
