Chapter 6

On Tuesday afternoon, in the third week of our marriage, I got a call from a real estate agent.

"Hello, Mrs. Whitmore." The voice was warm and eager. "We've drawn up the lease for the riverside apartment Mr. Whitmore selected for you. Two bedrooms, a private balcony, excellent security and privacy. Would you like us to arrange access for the moving truck at two this Saturday afternoon?"

I held the phone, pausing for two seconds. "You have the wrong number. We're not looking to rent."

The agent was clearly taken aback, and then I heard papers rustling.

"I'm sorry. You're…