Then, one evening, Margaret asked a question that made me put down my glass.
“Daniel, would you ever marry a woman much older than yourself?”
I laughed nervously.
“Why are you asking me that?”
“Because I want an honest answer.”
I looked at her carefully. She wasn’t smiling.
“Honestly? I don’t know.”
“What if she were wealthy?”
My heart began beating faster.
I tried to disguise my reaction.
“Money wouldn’t be the only consideration.”
“Of course not,” she said. “But it would be a consideration.”
I said nothing.
Margaret leaned back in her chair.
“I’m going to be direct. I have spent years surrounded by people who want something from me. Some want business opportunities. Others want influence. Some want access to my late husband’s contacts. And a few pretend to love me because they hope I will leave them something when I die.”
She paused.
“I have no intention of pretending that you and I have some great romantic destiny. You are young, and I am old enough to know better than to believe every flattering word a man says.”
