Page 47 of Deadline

“Here you are, a rich girl—”

“How offensive.”

“But a fact. You grew up privileged, had your picture taken with presidents, received the best education money can buy. Here’s Jeremy, who’s been to war in Iraq, spiffy officer’s uniform, stationed at Parris Island in charge of rifle training.”

“Glenda?”

“Actually I looked that up myself. My point is, what attracted you to him? From the standpoint of someone on the outside looking in, you two wouldn’t appear to be a match.”

A lot of outsiders looking in had thought the same. “I suppose we were opposites who attracted.”

“What kind of suitor was he?”

“Ardent.”

“Really?”

“Yes. He could be terribly sweet and romantic.”

“He carved your initials in a tree?”

“Yes.”

He laughed. “I was kidding.”

“I wasn’t. He did that once. Why does

it surprise you?”

“Because it doesn’t mesh with the Jeremy who cheated on you by shagging his friend’s wife.” Before she could comment on that, he asked, “What about the congressman? What did he think of his new son-in-law?”

“Above all else, Daddy wanted my happiness.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Since she had his promise none of this would see publication, she decided to be brutally honest. “At first Daddy was concerned about the very differences in our backgrounds that you’ve cited. Jeremy wasn’t like the men I’d dated before.”

“I’m guessing preppie types.”

“For the most part. Doctors, lawyers, men destined to take over a long-standing family business.”

“I get the picture. Jeremy was a little rougher hewn.”

“But earnest. Appropriately respectful. Daddy came to like him very much, and they got along well.”

Dawson picked up his glass and, swirling the wine in it, asked, “What were Jeremy’s parents like?”

“They were deceased when we met.”

“Brothers, sisters?”

“He didn’t have any family. It’s a rather tragic history, actually. He rarely talked about it. Both his parents died in a house fire just weeks after his high school graduation.”

“Jesus.”

“Yes, it was very sad. Their home and everything in it was destroyed. His whole life history to that point was consumed. He didn’t have any photographs or memorabilia of his babyhood or youth.”

“Huh.” He took a moment to assimilate that. “Was your marriage happy?”