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“Yeah. How did you ever…” I stopped before making a complete ass of myself.
He knew exactly where I’d been going. “Marry her?”
I nodded.
“She was an actress before we married, and she was obviously good enough to fool me. It’s my fault, really.”
“How so?”
“I was in a hurry. Dad was pressuring me, and I gave in.”
“That doesn’t seem like you.”
“I know better now, but at the time, let’s just say I wanted to get him off my back. We’ve patched things up now, but it was what made me leave the family company.”
I digested that for a while as we ate. “Did you love her?”
He stared into his coffee cup before answering. “That’s a hard one.”
“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“No.” He reached to put his hand over mine. “It’s one of the things I like about you. You’re frank, and you push me out of my comfort zone.”
“I didn’t mean to pry.” That was the polite thing to say, but I remained curious about how a guy who seemed so level headed and was rich and good looking enough to have his pick of women would end up with such a wicked one.
He pulled his hand back, and I missed the feel of his touch.
“Yes, you did,” he said.
The news flashed to the story of the death of Randy Bethman, with a picture of his young wife, Virginia—very young, very pretty Virginia. Black Widow of the Palisades, they’d nicknamed her.
I pointed my fork at the screen. “I hope they fry her ass.”
He looked up and followed the commentary for a moment. “Why would you say that?”
“Just look at her. Forty years younger—of course the trophy wife did it.”
“You always jump to conclusions like that?”
“It’s pretty obvious.” The news had published enough details for anybody to see it. “He was poisoned, and she inherits a fortune. She did it for sure. She got tired of waiting for him to croak and hurried things along. I’d bet on it.”
“If I ever go to trial, I’d hate to have someone like you on the jury.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’re ready to convict the woman based on a few things you heard, without having all the facts. You don’t know she did it. Neither you nor I can possibly know that.”
“You think she didn’t?”
“I’m saying jumping to conclusions about someone’s character without knowing all the facts is wrong. Why does she deserve less benefit of the doubt than you or me?”
“I…” I was at a loss for what to say after he put it like that.
“Wouldn’t you want the benefit of the doubt? I know I sure would.”
“I guess you’re right.” Clearly I wouldn’t want to be judged as hastily as I’d judged her.
As I ate the rest of the breakfast Dennis had generously cooked me, I couldn’t get past the question he’d just raised without knowing it.Had I possibly judged him too hastily as well?
