Daniel and I dated for almost two years before we married. During that time, I met his parents several times. Arthur Hale was a wealthy businessman who had built his fortune through real estate, government contracts, and investments. Vivian was elegant, socially connected, and extraordinarily skilled at making an insult sound like a compliment.
At our first dinner together, Arthur asked about my career.
“So, you’re a lawyer,” he said, cutting into his steak.
“Yes.”
“Private practice?”
“No. I serve as a military prosecutor.”
He paused.
“Meaning the government pays you to argue with people?”
Vivian laughed delicately.
I smiled because I did not yet understand that in their home, ridicule was often presented as humor, and anyone who objected was accused of being too sensitive.
Daniel changed the subject.
Later, in the car, I told him his father had been disrespectful.
“That’s just how he is,” Daniel said. “He tests people. Once he knows you can take a joke, he respects you.”
