The Ambassador's Wife by Steil Jennifer

Author:Steil, Jennifer [Steil, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2015-07-28T07:00:00+00:00

Miranda

And now here she was, modestly attired in an ankle-length dress and linen blazer, buckled into the backseat of her own car, heading to the home of the Mauritanian ambassador for her first HOMSA meeting. She had her own driver now, a slender nineteen-year-old who was the son of one of the guards. Altaf was polite, courtly, and like few others in this country, a cautious driver. This was the crucial quality for Miranda, given that traffic laws were mere suggestions and most drivers plowed through intersections without a glance to either side. There were no child car seats, a fact that alarmed Miranda even though she did not yet have a use for one. But when she saw a mother driving with an infant in one arm, or a small boy kneeling on the front seat with his face pressed to the windshield, she wanted to chase down the drivers and thrust the statistics on child fatalities on the road into their reckless hands.

Miranda had told the staff she would be back in time for lunch, just in case she was ejected from the meeting before anything had been served. But why was she expecting unkindness? These women were diplomatic spouses. At the very least they would fake kindness. She wished Marguerite could be there, but Marguerite had to host a lunch for some visiting French dignitaries. Miranda wondered how many of the wives knew about Vícenta, knew about her former life. The Western ones probably wouldn’t care, but would the Arab ambassadors’ wives? Or would they secretly be plotting to have her burned at the stake for perversion? Suddenly, she realized she didn’t care. Wasn’t there enough in the world to worry about without fretting about the approval of ambassadors’ wives? Besides, chances were that any Westerner who knew about Vícenta would be discreet with that knowledge. The stakes were too high.

She had barely reached the top of the steps when the front door swung open to admit her. A smiling Filipina woman showed her down the vast, carpeted front hall and into a gilded diwan. Almost everything—mirrors, framed paintings, pillows, sofas, plates propped up on little gold stands, ceramic jugs, glass coffee tables—was trimmed with gold. Miranda was surprised that the enormous flat-screen television didn’t have a golden frame. Olamide, the Mauritanian ambassador’s wife, a woman nearly as wide as she was tall, rose to greet her in a rustle of rayon, kissing her cheeks. Miranda tried to remember if they had met before. A few others were already settled on the cushions. Miranda recognized Chrysantha, the wife of the Egyptian ambassador, and was introduced to Adinda, the wife of the Indonesian ambassador, and Alena, the wife of the Palestinian ambassador. They smiled and greeted her warmly. “We haven’t had a wife of the UK ambassador in a while,” said Chrysantha. “We weren’t sure you were getting the invitations. We are happy to have you, Madame Fenwick.”

“I’m happy to be here!” Miranda smiled brightly as she tucked her bare feet underneath her on the cushion.

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