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"What?"

"Just follow me. Quickly. I want to show you

somet

hing." She took my hand and led me out of the

ballroom. We went to the stairway and up the stairs

quickly.

"Where are we going?"

"To my suite," she said. When we arrived, she

went to her wall safe. "I had Tony install this for my

jewels," she explained, "and," she added turning back

to me, a wry smile on her face, "my documents." "Documents?"

She just continued to smile impishly and

opened her safe. Then she reached in and produced a

very important-looking file. Inside were three pages

of long paper clipped together. She handed it to me

and I read the title: "A Prenuptial Agreement." "What is this?" I asked.

"It's a contract between Tony and me," she said

proudly. "I had my attorney prepare it."

"A contract?"

"Yes. If we should divorce, for any reason," she

said pointing to some words in the second paragraph

of the first page, "I get half of what he is worth. Half!"

she repeated. "Half of all this," she said extending her

arms. "You can read it right there," she added pointing

to the papers in my hands. I looked down at them, but

the words were gibberish to me, not only because I

didn't understand the "Whereas's" and "Resolved's,"

but because it was so shocking to learn that Momma

and Tony's love affair was written down in legal

language like a deed to a house.