Introduction

The bitter divorce of "perfect couple" DeeDee and Harry Wilder, and its impact on the gated community in which they live, is seen through the eyes of a neighbor, Lyssa Harper, who doesn't realize the parallels between their marriage and her own. Touched by Harry Wilder's efforts at trial-by-error single parenting, Lyssa befriends him, never realizing the effect their relationship will have on her close-knit circle of friends—or its explosive impact on her own marriage.

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Excerpt

Chapter 2

"The great question . . . which I have not been able to answer, despite my thirty years of research into the feminine soul, is `What does a woman want?’”—Sigmund Freud

It’s been two days since Halloween, and as of lunchtime today, Mickey’s head has a clean bill of health. Not a louse in site. Tomorrow he’s back in school.

To celebrate—and to rid ourselves of the cabin fever we’re experiencing—Mickey and I sneak out with our Labrador, Harvey, to Paradise Park while school is still in session. I figure this is okay, since there will be no one there to infect, anyway.

I'm wrong. Little Temple Wilder is playing alone on the swing set. Even before we are spotted, we can hear her plaintive plea: “Daddy, you said you'd push me! Please? PRETTY PLEASE, WITH SUGAR AND WHIP CREAM AND SPRINKLES ON TOP?”

Harry, the sleeves of his crisp Oxford button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows, is mumbling authoritatively into his Bluetooth. Sunlight brings to life the glints of gold in his gently tousled hair. He places a fingertip to his lips in the hope of willing her into silence, but Temple isn’t buying it. Patience is rarely a virtue found in five-year-olds.

Spotting us, he gives me a look that promises the world if I can guarantee him a few minutes of her silence, not to mention that of their Airedale, Lucky, whose barking at Harvey. Harry is a novice when it comes to negotiating with a mommy who has been housebound with an antsy boy for almost a week. But knowing his plight and feeling his pain, I give Temple a push that sends her giggling skyward, and then I do the same for my son. Harry bows in gratitude.

A half hour later, Harry pulls off his Bluetooth for good to find Temple and my son playing nicely together on the climbing gym. Mickey has gotten over his wariness of girl cooties (imaginary), and Temple is reassured that Mickey’s cooties (real, but gone) won’t be invading her full head of sun-kissed sateen curls. All is right in the world.

Harry smiles his unabashed gratitude. “Sorry. East Coast,” he says, by way of explanation. “Had to catch those guys before they go home for the day.”

I nod understandingly, and then stick out my hand. “Lyssa Harper. We’ve met before.”

Vagueness clouds his eyes. “Sure, I remember. You’re the Stuckeys’ au pair, right?”

I don’t know whether to be flattered or miffed. True, both the au pair and I have long dark hair, although mine is somewhat curlier. Okay, make that frizzy. And yes, it strokes my ego to be compared to a mere woman-child some ten years younger (not to mention ten pounds lighter). It’s more likely that he’s suggesting that I don’t seem worthy enough to live in Paradise Heights—unless I’m in someone’s domestic employ.

Only in my wildest fantasies would I assume that this is his way of hitting on me. Still, the thought of being picked up on the playground by the neighborhood DILF (the "dad I'd like to—." well, you get the picture) does give me a cheap thrill.

Then it hits me: What if he’s asking because he thinks he can buy my services, which would leave the Stuckeys high and dry? Ouch! And those twins of theirs are a handful . . .

Gee, I wonder how much he’s offering, anyway?

Turns out he’s not offering at all. He just doesn’t remember meeting Ted and me at the Crawleys’ Christmas party last year. Or sharing a picnic table with us this past summer at the Paradise Heights Annual July Fourth picnic. Or that we were the ones who found Lucky after he escaped under their fence in order to chase after the Corrigan’s tabby.

My God, as oblivious as this guy is, I’m surprised he remembers his way home.

Then again, maybe he doesn’t. That might be why DeeDee had an affair in the first place.

"Um . . .no. I'm just a mom here in the Heights."

As my black-and-white image of the Wilders gradates to chiaroscuro in the harsh light of reality, Harry tries to make amends for forgetting how many times our paths have crossed by complimenting me on how well my son plays with Temple.

Now it’s my turn to blush. I’m not used to hearing compliments about Mickey from other parents, only pointed remarks about how much more “rambunctious” he is than their own perfect progeny. “Thanks,” I stammer, then add, “I think his patience comes from having a younger sister.”

“Oh yeah? My son isn’t half that great with Temple. Of course he’s somewhat older, a teenager.” He gives a conciliatory laugh. “You know how they are.”

“I know your son.” Surprised, he blinks, then leans away slightly. He seems wary of what I might say next, so I continue gently, “Jake, right? He’s a sweet boy, too. He and my son, Tanner, play together on the basketball team. Very few of Tanner’s friends let Mickey join in when they come over to shoot hoops. You know how they can be: snubbing kids who are younger, or not as well coordinated. But Jake doesn’t seen to mind.”

Harry nods uncertainly. “Well, I’m glad to hear he’s not so—so judgmental all the time.”

“I never thought of it that way. I just think some kids instinctively know what to do with younger children.” Upon hearing this, Harry frowns. Quickly I add, “I’m not saying that that’s a good thing or a bad thing. In fact, I think it shows that, some day, they’ll make pretty good parents.”

Harry stares off in stony silence. As we sit quietly, I wonder what I’ve said wrong.

On the other hand, what does it matter? It’s my guess that he will forget our conversation the minute we gather up the kids and say our awkward good-byes. And the next time we meet, be it in the carpool line, or at a school function, or a neighbor’s party, he’ll vaguely wonder what the Stuckeys’ au pair has done with the usually caterwauling twins.

Right then and there I make up my mind that that is not going to happen, that I’m going to make a big enough impression on him that my name will finally be emblazoned on his brain, or at the very least that I crack his typically icy demeanor just this once.

Suddenly I remember another thing we have in common: our daughters.

“So, you’ve decided to give Temple a day off from school? In fact, my daughter, Olivia, is in preschool with Temple. Every now and then I let her do that, too. Kindergarten can be so overwhelming for little kids, even with a year or two of preschool under their belts. It’s not like they’re missing calculus, or anything really important, right? And the trade-offs are some wonderful memories. To be honest, though, I hate when it’s called ‘quality time,’ don’t you? I mean, every second with your child is memorable. Even watching them while they sleep is precious–”

I’ve been blathering so much I hadn’t noticed that Harry is crying.

The tears roll down his face in two steady lines. He turns his head toward me so that the children don’t see this, but my look of shock must be just as dismaying to him because he ends up burying his face in his hands.

And sobs even harder.

Harry Wilder, captain of industry, neighborhood enigma, one half of Paradise Heights’ Perfect Couple, is now a puddle of mush.

And it's all my doing.

Out of habit I still carry Handi Wipes. Although they aren’t ideal in situations like this, I can tell that Harry is appreciative for anything that will sop up this mess that is now his life.

When he's able to face me again, he looks me in the eye. “My wife left me. She’s left us.”

At this point I could feign ignorance, but since we’re both striving for honesty here, I have no desire to muck things up with a polite albeit face-saving (for him) lie, a “Gee! Look how late it’s getting” exit line, and another year or two of polite neighborly oblivion. Instead, I nod and say, “Yeah, I heard. On Halloween. I’m—I’m so sorry about it.”

“You know about it? But I—I haven’t said anything to anyone, yet! And she’s—she’s long gone, so I know it didn’t come from her.” He shakes his head at the thought that his personal soap opera is being bandied about the local Starbucks. “Jesus! And I thought news moved fast on Wall Street.”

“Yeah, well, you’ll find out about the Height’s mommy grapevine soon enough. I mean, if you plan on sticking around—”

“I am, for sure. I’m not going anywhere.” The lines on Harry’s face once again realign into a steely implacability. “This is our home. My kids love it here. We’ll…we’ll work through it somehow.”

“Sure you will,” I murmur reassuringly. “There’s no place like the Heights for raising kids. That’s why we’re all here. Hey listen, really, I didn’t mean to scare you off. You know, about the way we mommies talk and all. It was just such a shock to everyone. The two of you always seemed so—so happy.”

“Yeah. Happy. I thought we were, too.” With this, his eyes get moist again. This time, though, he shrugs, then passes a broad palm over them. I assume that he’s decided that the Handi Wipes give off the wrong impression. “You were right when you said that every minute you spend with your kids is important. And I haven’t been around for most of it.”

Well, of course you weren’t, I want to say. You were out making a living! Bringing home the bacon, playing this millennium’s version of caveman . . .

And boy oh boy, your stucco palace has all the bells and whistles to prove it.

Too bad you found another Neanderthal in there, with your wife.

But I keep my mouth shut. Because you don’t hit a man when he’s down.

Instead, I let him rhapsodize about how things will be from now on, now that he is home to nurture, protect, and defend. He has already asked his partners at his firm to cut him some slack, he tells me stoically. He'll go into the office just two days a week, and only during the hours that the kids are in school. His partners don’t like the idea, but hey, they need him too badly, so they'll work around it. Besides he can still juggle things out of his home office, after he takes the kids to school, right? At thirteen, Jake is too old for a nanny—not that Harry would ever consider that in the first place, oh no, no way in hell! That’s all DeeDee needs to hear to make her case for full custody. He and the kids will muddle through together, everyone pitching in to help out. He’ll position it to them as a family adventure . . .

As for the grocery shopping, or getting Jake to basketball practice, or Temple to her ballet and gym and acting classes, or nursing them when they have fevers, or covering them when their school is out for staff development days—not to mention showing up for parent-teacher conferences—how bad can it be? All it takes is a little planning, some adept scheduling on his Blackberry. Heck, it’ll be a cakewalk compared to flying all over the country in order to take meetings and meals with CEOs and CFOs at the Palm in DC, or the River Café in New York, or the Grillroom in Chicago—

You poor, pathetic misinformed man.

DeeDee certainly fooled you in more ways than one.

I am so tempted to level with him about his new life, to blurt out the truth:

That suburbia is a jungle, filled with lots of vicious creatures.

Gain a few pounds, and the hyenas start giggling behind your back. Don’t volunteer for that field trip, and the silence of those usually sweet-as-lambs mommies who must pick up your slack will be deafening. Forget that it’s your turn to bring the after-game healthy snacks for the little league team, and you might as well not show up because the other mothers’ tongue-lashing will shred you into human tartar.

And you, Harry Wilder, are nothing but fresh meat. So please, please watch your back.

But what is his alternative? To wallow in fear of the platoon of Pilates-pumped Amazons who commandeer the streets of Paradise Heights in their Lexus LXs or their Benz GLKs, and pray that he doesn’t say or do something so DI (domestically incorrect) that his kids will be ostracized until they leave home for college?

Or, perhaps it would be better to seek out the other househusbands in the neighborhood.

I wince at this thought. There are just two of them: Calvin Bullworth, a software geek who is such a hermit that he's rumored to be a cyberterrorist under house arrest. His wife, Bev Bullworth, is the Heights’ number one realtor. (Her motto: “No Bull, Just Better Service!”) Unfortunately, this means that she is always in other peoples’ houses with strangers, and rarely home with Cal and their two children: Sabrina, who at twelve and a half is already a study in disaffected Goth; and Duke, her ten-year-old brother, who, unfortunately, has the sallow demeanor and social skills of his father. The poor kid gets crammed into a lot of school lockers.

And then there is Pete Shriver, the Heights’ househusband extraordinaire: a trust fund baby—yes, he’s heir to the Shriver Tectonics fortune—he has immersed himself in all things Paradise Heights. As the coach in the Paradise Heights Middle School basketball team, he has led the Red Devils to three undefeated seasons straight. At the annual Heights July Fourth Blazin’ Barbecue Cook-Off, his melt-in-your-mouth brisket, prepared on a fifty-four-inch professional Lynx grill, brings home the blue ribbon every time. Under his tutelage, the Paradise Heights communal vegetable garden is not only shorn of errant weeds, but any members who don’t work their gardens prodigiously. And as the editor of the Boulevard Bugle, his editorial series on the aesthetic advantages of authentic antique gas lamps versus newer aluminum faux versions inspired the community drive that ante’d up the four thousand dollars needed to cover their additional cost . . .

Oh sure, Pete is a dynamo . . .

Although he’s rumored to be somewhat less energetic in the bedroom, which is perhaps why his wife, Masha—a Russian mail order bride—is the neighborhood slut. And to everyone’s dismay, their thirteen-year-old daughter, Nastassia, is rumored to be following in her footsteps.

I don’t have the heart to break the news to Harry about his new band of brothers. Not that he’d believe me anyway, even if I did set him straight. No, it’s best that I ease him into this new world order.

As we round up the dogs and the kids and say our goodbyes, I suggest that we make a play date for Olivia and Temple for the middle of next week. Harry, grateful, promptly says yeah sure, then flips through the agenda on his Blackberry and thumbs that in, along with my cell phone number.

He is now officially a househusband.

His next task: File for divorce.

“I’ll never understand why this all happened in the first place,” he murmurs with a shake of his head. “I thought I gave her the life she always wanted. I guess I was wrong.” view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

From the author:
1. The town of Paradise Heights is portrayed as an upscale enclave for mostly upper income families. What did you think of the author’s portrayal of the people in this town? Do you admire or admonish them? Envy them for all of their material wealth, or pity them for the emotional balance they lack? Or both?
2. Why do you think Lyssa is so drawn to Harry Wilder at the beginning of the novel? Does she really just feel sorry for him, or is she projecting her own childhood experience with divorce on his circumstance? How are both Lyssa's and Harry's experiences with divorce different, and how are they similar?
3. Lyssa spends most of her time socializing with the women who make up the executive board of the Paradise Heights Women’s League. They are depicted mostly as villains in the novel – especially their ringleader, Margot. In fact, the league board is called “the Coven” by those less popular mommies they've nicknamed "the undesirables," and all of them have been given nicknames of fairy tale witches. What, if anything, is attractive about the power wielded by the members of this cruel clique? Where do you think they derive their power?
4. Do you think that all the members of Paradise Heights Women’s League are equally guilty of bad social behavior? Does a follower like, say, Colleen, who silently allows Margot to behave atrociously, deserve just as much blame as the queen bee herself?
5. At times, the character of Lyssa seems both needy and eager-to-please. Her friend Brooke likens her to a puppy, saying, “If someone scratched your belly, you’d never leave their lap” (p. 253). How do you think Lyssa changes over the course of the novel? What role does her relationship with Harry play in that transformation?
6. Many of the adults in the novel seem less well behaved than their children, and Lyssa spends a lot of time worrying about the example that she and the rest of the adults in her social circle are setting for their children. They get into fights at basketball games, and shamelessly throw themselves at the husbands of their friends. How did you feel about the way the adults in this novel conducted themselves? Have you personally witnessed similar behavior in a social setting? Did you think less of Lyssa for surrounding herself with people who acted the way they did? Is Lyssa a good parent?
7. What did you think of the way Ted withheld intimacy from Lyssa and then used it as a means of marking his territory when he became jealous of Lyssa’s relationship with Harry? Did you find it odd that Lyssa admittedly enjoyed being used by Ted as a way of proving his dominance over Harry?
8. At one point, Lyssa's mother questions her daughter's need to have married "The One." And DeeDee very pointedly remarks that, “no marriage is perfect." Almost every relationship in the novel is unstable. What do you think is the author’s opinion of marriage? Would it surprise you to learn that she has been happily married to the same man for more than twenty years, and like her, he is a journalist who covers relationship trends?
9. Is it significant that DeeDee is the only one who's admitted – and acted on the fact – that her marriage made her unhappy?
10. Lyssa is concerned that Harry may be labeled an “undesirable” and, admittedly, dreads it for herself. Do you think that the need for the approval and admiration of our peers can ever be overcome? Can a person be truly happy with themselves without some sort of recognition from others, or will we always need to be noticed in order to be happy with ourselves?
11. As a character, Lyssa can be a little judgmental. She is quick to find fault with her friends and to point out when they’re in denial and yet, she is blind to the problems in her own life. Are most people better at finding faults with others than at looking within? Why?
12. What is the significance of Lyssa’s relationship with her mother and father? How do you think the example of her parents’ marriage affected the way she handled her own romantic relationships with both Ted and Harry? How does the news that her father didn’t abandon her help Lyssa to re-evaluate her views on love and relationships?
13. The Paradise Heights basketball team plays a game at a rival school that displays a banner in its gym reading, “We Own You”. How do you think the wealth of some of the characters in this book affects their view of the world? How does it affect their children?
14. Although the novel takes place in an exclusive community, a place where most people could never afford to live, are there certain commonalities you noticed between the characters in this book, and the less elite? What sorts of problems transcend class barriers?
15. How did you feel about the way the novel ended? Were you at all upset that Lyssa immediately jumped from marriage to Ted to marriage to Harry? Did you want her to strike out on her own and prove her independence? What did you think of the way Lyssa’s relationship with Ted was concluded? Did you want him to get more of a comeuppance?

(1) Each chapter begins with a quote about love and relationships. Which quote was your favorite? Did
any strike particularly close to home? Have you received any advice in your own life that rivals the
advice offered in these quotes?
(2) The mean‐mommy clique is part of a long hallowed literary and film tradition that depicts the
cattiness with which some women relate to one another. Watch, read, and discuss other books and
movies the depict similarly icy relationships between women (see: anything by Jane Austen, Jane
Eyre, Cinderella, Mean Girls, Heathers, The Women, etc.). Discuss how you think these portrayals of
female‐on‐female emotional violence affect societal views of women.
(3) One of the many ways that the women in this book jockey for social superiority is through their
baking skills (think of DeeDee’s gingerbread man triumph over Lyssa). Have a friendly bake‐off of
your own and see who can bake the best treat for your book club.
(4) Visit josiebrown.com for more information about the author and her previous novels.
(5) If Josie is touring near you, she is open to being hosted by you, for your club. You can see her
touring itinerary on her website. All she asks is that you have at least 20 members in attendance, and that
you fax (1-270-918-7753) or email me ([email protected]) the receipts/confirmations of their purchases of
her book. She'll be making this offer to several book clubs in your area, so if you'd like her to attend email back
to her promptly so she can put it on her schedule.

Weblinks

»	Publisher's Book Info
»	Author Josie Brown's web site

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