“Everyone can help it, Maggie,” Cal said.
“She was poor growing up, she said. I don’t know the details because to my memory we never had anything to do with her family, but clearly she plotted her escape from her roots. She fully intended to marry up, as they say. She started off with a tech school that would teach her what she needed to know to get a great job in a high-level corporate setting where she would meet men with money. She concentrated on beauty, intending to snag a rich husband. Sully was an accident.”
“Oh?”
“I think he was working as a welder at the time they met. They met in a classy uptown bar in Chicago. He was a handsome, sexy guy, midthirties, had been a Green Beret, had been to war a couple of times, had medals, liked to have fun. She fell for him. He told her he was coming into a big property near Aspen and so she married him. She was twenty-two. He brought her here and knocked her up. It was all downhill from there.”
Cal whistled. “Best laid plans...”
“She obviously played a better hand with Walter. Ohhh, I so hated him. They wouldn’t let me see Sully for years. Of course that was Phoebe, but Walter went along with it. Later, much later, I came to like him. Then respect him. Now I’m more fond of Walter than of Phoebe. He’s always been on my team. He tried to talk me out of marrying my husband. I should’ve listened to him.”
Cal came to attention. “You were married?”
“Didn’t I tell you that?” She laughed a little, slightly embarrassed. “I apologize. It was so insignificant. Sergei was...is an artist. Painter, sculptor. He was a dirt-poor immigrant but hung out with important people who endorsed his talent. Someone introduced us—I was still finishing residency, which might account for my brain atrophy. I didn’t realize Sergei would do absolutely anything for money and I was the trifecta—I came from Walter’s money, sort of. I had great earning potential. And I had the prestige of being a neurosurgeon who was the stepdaughter of a very well-known and highly respected neurosurgeon. But Sergei had a very short attention span and once the wedding was done, he began to flirt and rove and we didn’t last long. We were divorced before our first anniversary. Honestly, it’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I should’ve listened to... Hey! What’s that look? Have you lost all respect for me because I married badly?”
He raised his gaze to hers. “I didn’t know you were married.”
“I could’ve sworn I told you that...”
“Maggie, I was married.”
“Well, that’s okay. A lot of people our age—”
“Mine wasn’t short,” he said. “It wasn’t a mistake. I was married for eight years. My wife died two years ago.”
She was stunned silent for a moment. “Wow. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. Listen, I’m not trying to be secretive, but is it okay if I don’t talk about it right now? She died of scleroderma, a difficult disease. Let’s save that discussion for another time. Okay? It’s still hard to talk about.”
“Sure,” she said quietly. “Wow. I mean, I had no idea.”
“How could you? I’ll fill in the blanks one of these days. When the time feels right. Okay?”
“Are there a lot of blanks?” she asked.
“Details, that’s all.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I’m moving on the best I can, but I still find it very personal. And emotional. Right now, I want to hear about Phoebe and Walter and anything else. I want to laugh with you, then I want to hold you and take you to bed. Let’s cover my background another time. A better time.”
“Okay.”
“Tell me about your childhood with Phoebe,” he suggested.
“Ohhh, you’re not going to believe any of it,” she said.
“After the family I came from?” he asked, lifting a brow. “Really?”
“You mean that’s all true?”
“Maggie, I may be guilty of withholding, not being ready to talk about some things, but I’ve never lied to you.”
“How can you manage that?” she asked.