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"What?"
"Just follow me. Quickly. I want to show you
somet
hing." She took my hand and led me out of the
ballroom. We went to the stairway and up the stairs
quickly.
"Where are we going?"
"To my suite," she said. When we arrived, she
went to her wall safe. "I had Tony install this for my
jewels," she explained, "and," she added turning back
to me, a wry smile on her face, "my documents." "Documents?"
She just continued to smile impishly and
opened her safe. Then she reached in and produced a
very important-looking file. Inside were three pages
of long paper clipped together. She handed it to me
and I read the title: "A Prenuptial Agreement." "What is this?" I asked.
"It's a contract between Tony and me," she said
proudly. "I had my attorney prepare it."
"A contract?"
"Yes. If we should divorce, for any reason," she
said pointing to some words in the second paragraph
of the first page, "I get half of what he is worth. Half!"
she repeated. "Half of all this," she said extending her
arms. "You can read it right there," she added pointing
to the papers in my hands. I looked down at them, but
the words were gibberish to me, not only because I
didn't understand the "Whereas's" and "Resolved's,"
but because it was so shocking to learn that Momma
and Tony's love affair was written down in legal
language like a deed to a house.
