You never really know someone. I had been married for only a year when I learned my husband’s secret. I thought I knew him, but we had dated for just a few months when we got engaged. I sometimes wondered exactly what he did for a living, and where his money came from. But whenever I asked he would say, “Oh, don’t be silly, sweetheart.”
I would ask, “Where are you going?,” and he’d answer, “Oh, you know me, gotta go to the Coast.” No, I didn’t know him. Nervously, I asked if I could accompany him on one of his trips. He surprised me by saying yes. It turned out that “the Coast” was not a coast at all but Southern California. We registered under the names “Mr. and Mrs. Clarence McKenzie” at a beautiful hotel, way beyond our budget. When we got in the elevator, the bellman nodded and said, “Nice to see you, Mr. McKenzie.” My husband smiled at him.
In the hotel room that night, we browsed the TV for in-room movies. I suggested we watch “Entrapment,” a psychological thriller.
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