Page 11

Trophy Wife by Helen Chappell

People tell me things. Sometimes it’s whether I want to know or not. Perhaps I have a sympathetic face, or the fact that I’m a writer makes me look like a priest in the confessional to some folks. Sometimes, they just want to tell their story. And no, I don’t mean the people who collar me and tell me they’ve had an interesting life and they ought to tell me all about it, so I can write it down and get it published and we can split the big bucks fiftyfifty. I don’t even know where to start with what’s wrong with that whole idea! This story started out simply enough. I am always joking with the ladies at my gym that I’m looking for a 93-year-old, childless widower with one foot in the grave who will leave me a fortune that will allow me to live the lifestyle to which I’d like to become accustomed. Of course, I’m only half joking, but let’s face it, I’m no Anna Nicole Smith, and thank God for that. My suspicion is that 93-year-old men are looking for 20-year-old blondes with figures like two cantaloupes on an ironing board. Turns out, I wasn’t far from the truth. She was a friend of a friend of a friend, she said when she asked

to “Friend” me on Facebook. She wondered if we could have lunch because she had a story she wanted to tell. The thumbnail FB picture showed me a woman who would generally have no interest in, or for, me. She could have been anywhere between 35 and 45, with those cheekbones you’d die for and honey-blonde hair pulled back at the nape of her neck. She seemed to be on a sailboat, and she had the aura of high maintenance one sometimes sees drifting in and out of Talbot County’s pricier restaurants. Instinctively, I thought, this is a woman who does not like other women. So why contact me? I was curious, so I friended her. She immediately made a lunch date with me, at one of my favorite downtown restaurants. I had to shove a few things around; missing a day on the dreadmill and the crank and the bike was probably going to kill me, but a good lunch at someone else’s expense was too much of a temptation to pass up. And, as is well known, I can resist anything but temptation. I knew her the minute I walked into the restaurant. She’d chosen a fairly secluded seat with low 9

March 2012 Tidewater Times  

March 2012 Tidewater Times

Read more
Read more
Similar to
Popular now
Just for you