The Millionaire Claims His Wife

So he started accepting invitations. He didn’t know how it would be, mingling with the doers and shakers; he was nervous, at first, and excited, but Annie was neither.

“Am I expected to go with you?” she asked, the first time he tossed a cream-colored charity ball announcement on the kitchen table.

Her response hurt. He’d still been foolish enough, in those days, to have hoped she’d get some pleasure at how he’d moved them up in the world.

“Yes,” he’d said, speaking coldly to hide his disappointment “You’re my wife, aren’t you?”

“Certainly,” Annie had answered, and she’d gone out, bought a gown and all the stuff to go with it, had her hair done and sailed into the gilded hotel ballrooms and wood-paneled meeting rooms of their new life as if she’d never flipped hamburgers or burped a crying baby.

Lord, he’d been so proud of her. He’d been as nervous as a cat inside, wondering if he’d fit in, but not Annie. She’d brimmed with self-confidence. And she’d been so beautiful, so bright. He’d ached to keep her stapled to his side but he hadn’t done it, not once he’d realized she didn’t need him to shore her up. He knew how hard she’d worked in the background, all those years. It was little enough to do, to back off and let her shine on her own. Just as long as he was the guy who took her to the party and brought her home, he was happy.

What an idiot he’d been! It had turned out she’d hated spending those evenings with him. His first clue had come when she’d started saying no, she couldn’t attend this function or that dinner because she’d signed up for some artsy-fartsy course that had no practical use except to make the very clear point that what she really wanted was a life apart from his.

He found himself devoting more time to business, spending days at a clip away from home. What did it matter? Dawn was slipping into her teenage years. Her life centered around her friends. As for Annie...Annie was never there. She was neck-deep in courses that only emphasized the growing differences between them.

How To Appreciate Haiku. Understanding Jasper Johns, whoever in hell Jasper Johns was. Batik-Making. And then, finally, what had seemed like a trillion courses in flower arranging and design and the next thing he’d known, he had a suitcase in his hand and it was goodbye, twenty years of marriage—well, there’d been that mess at the end that had finished things off, when his secretary had thrown herself into his arms, but he hadn’t done a thing to encourage it, no matter what Annie thought.

Peggy had been lonely. As lonely as he was. Some quiet talk, a couple of suppers after they’d been poring over figures for hours in the office, followed by his seeing her into a taxi, never anything more personal than that. That was why nobody had been more surprised than he when Peggy had suddenly launched herself into his arms one night. And wouldn’t you know that would be the one night in who knew how many years Annie had picked to come waltzing into the office?

Chase sighed. Not that it mattered anymore. He and Annie were long divorced. He’d made a new life for himself. A pleasant one and yes, he supposed—okay, he knew—that Janet would be delighted to be part of that life, if he asked her..

He’d been happy. Content.

Until today.

Until he’d taken Annie into his arms on that dance floor and felt things, remembered things, he didn’t want to feel or remember. Until he’d opened his mouth and jammed his own big foot right into it. And now here he was, heading for Seattle, listening to Annie go on and on about what he’d done, and he had another couple of hours of listening ahead of him before their plane landed and he got her on a flight headed in the other direction.

“...could at least show some concern!”

Chase looked at his ex. Annie was staring straight ahead, her face flushed, her arms crossed over her middle.

“Listen,” he said, “what would you like me to do? Get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness?”

She made a humphing sound and lifted her chin a notch.

“Maybe you want me to stand up and tell all these people what a chump I am.”

Annie humphed again.

“Just tell me, all right? Say, ‘Chase, here’s what you’ve got to do if you want me to shut up.’ And I’ll do it, Annie, so help me, I’ll do it, because I am tired unto death of listening to you bitch and moan!”

That got her attention. She swung toward him, her blue eyes flashing.

“Bitch and moan? Me?”

“Yes, you. Complain and nag, complain and nag, and all because I made one mistake.”

“I am not complaining or nagging. I am merely stat ing the obvious. Yes, you made one mistake. A biggie. And now here we are, off on a trip to Portland—” “Seattle.”