"You are kind of unexpected," I told her. "He has things to do that don't involve you. Or me. Like running a financial empire."
"Joyce," my mother said, plopping herself down in the chair across from mine at the breakfast table, "why on earth did you marry a rich man? You are never going to be the first thing in his life. He is always going to be a businessman first and a husband second. Sometimes third or fourth! What were you thinking?"
"That is not my problem," my mother told me. "My problem is your wedding, and I will not sit idly by while your husband blows you off like mine did."
Not for the first time, I thought that there was probably a reason my father blew her off, but I kept my mouth shut. Nothing was a sorer subject with my mother. She could talk about how terrible a husband
