My husband's parents have always hated me, and they aren't shy about saying so. Josh and Reeve Smith have never thought I am good enough for their only son. They've called me white trash simply because I grew up poor (though, not in a trailer, I might add), and a gold digger because the Smith are billionaires going back generations. They think I'm using Joshua for his money, and site the fact that he put me through college, is an investor in my clothing store, and the 11 year age difference as evidence. Of course, it couldn't be further from the truth. Joshua and I are very much in love, and have been since we married six years ago.
I met Joshua when I was 18. I was just out of high school, and working as a waitress in a diner downtown so I could save up for college. I hadn't worked there a month when this incredibly handsome guy in a dark suit came in and sat in my section.
We didn't really exchange much more than waitress/customer conversation during that first encounter, but then he started coming in everyday just after the lunch rush, and we began talking. It got so that he requested to be seated in my section, and, because we were usually dead by then, I really got to know and like him. Joshua was 29, and said he worked in finance, which he hated, but it allowed him time to go sailing, which he loved. In addition to being Beatles fans, we also shared a love of Toulouse-Lautrec paintings, Steven Spielberg movies, and for some inexplicable reason, blue Jell-O.
It wasn't until six months later that we started going out. He accidentally left his wallet at the table, and when I called to tell him I had it, he offered to take me out to dinner to thank me.
We went to a very upscale place, much nicer than the diner—not to mention more expensive, and all night I kept saying how weird it was to be sitting at the table with Joshua and not serving him. After dinner we went to the beach, and lay on the sand just looking up at the stars, wrapped in each others arms. Just as our faces tilted towards each other and we were about to kiss, Joshua confessed that he had left his wallet there on purpose, hoping I would call him, and he could use that as an excuse to go on a date with me. He was surprised when I told him I knew, and asked me why I agreed to go out with him. I said that if he hadn't asked me, I would have asked him, and then he leaned in and pressed our lips together.
That night we made love for the first time, and from there our relationship became a whirlwind. Six months after our first date we were engaged. My parents were a bit surprised, since I was only 19 at the time and Joshua was 30, but they loved Joshua, and gave us their blessing. Then it was time to tell Joshua's parents, and it was then that I found out who he was, who his parents were, and just what kind of family I was marrying into. When Joshua said he worked in finance, he meant that he was the vice president of several large banks, second only to his father the president and CEO. I knew that he was well off, but I didn't know until that point just how well off he actually was, which was good for both of us, because we both knew I was in love with Joshua and not his money.
The Smith's had been out of the country during most of the six months we dated. Joshua had told them about me, but I had yet to meet them. Admittedly I was nervous about the whole ordeal, and when we finally broke the news of our engagement to Josh and Reeve, of course, they were upset. With me in the next room, Joshua's parents told him what a mistake he was making by marrying a poor girl half his age who was probably only after his money anyway. Joshua was so upset that he stormed out of the house and three months later we drove to Las Vegas and tied the knot, sans parents.
I actually worked at the diner for a while after the wedding, and Joshua still came in to eat, but then one day he surprised me with a college application and a blank check. I told him I didn't want to take advantage of him, but he insisted that I was his wife, and he knew going to college would make me happy, which is all he wanted. Naturally, this sent the Smith over the edge, assuming this is what I had hoped to achieve by marrying their son. The fact that I graduated Summa Cum Laude and managed to start up my own clothing store did nothing to dissuade them. I thought perhaps over time things would get better, but unfortunately they just got worse. I was never invited over to their home for holidays, Sunday dinners, or, well, any reason, really. Whenever they called and I answered the phone, they would immediately hang up, and to this day they still try to set Joshua up with other women. Josh and Reeve have each come to me on separate occasions and offered me obscene amounts of money to divorce Joshua, an offer that is of course immediately rejected. Joshua and I have told them a hundred times that we love each other and if they don't like it, then that's too bad, but as anyone in the business world will tell you, Josh Smith is a hard man to tell no.
Joshua's parents aside, we actually do have a wonderful marriage. Joshua is the kindest, sweetest, most generous man I could have ever asked for, not to mention an animal in the sack. Aside from the occasional squabble over which movie to see or where to go on vacation, we rarely ever argue. I guess that's because we have no secrets from each other...or at least we didn't, until that fateful day...
It all began on the Friday of a three day weekend. Joshua was going to go out on his boat for the weekend, and as usual when he was gone, I was going to use the time to veg out on John Hughes movies, make an avocado face mask, and eat an entire pepperoni pizza by myself. This weekend I was adding "work on the spring line" to the agenda, something I had been meaning to do all season, but couldn't because of a problem with suppliers. Whatever, I work better under pressure anyway.
I came home from my studio and immediately settled into a nice hot bath with a glass of wine. Then I put on my comfy sweats and an old T-shirt of Joshua's that I loved and ordered the pizza. I was on my third glass of wine when I spread myself out on the couch in front of my drawing pencils and sketch book and pressed play on the DVD, hoping that the god-awful fashions of the eighties would inspire me to come up with some great designs. I was all set to work when the doorbell rang.
"Damn," I muttered, and went to answer it. Thinking it was the pizza guy, I grabbed my purse, hoping I had enough cash for a good tip, since it was a whole fifteen minutes sooner than they'd told me on the phone.
I swung open the door and was shocked to see my father-in-law.
"Josh!" I cried. "T-this is a surprise." That was an understatement. I could literally count on one hand the number of times Josh had come to our townhouse in the six years Joshua and I had been married, and it occurred to me that in all that time, I had never been alone with him.
"Yes, I imagine it is, may I come in?" Josh stepped inside the house without waiting for my answer, and my heart began to pound. Even after all these years he still made me nervous. The way he spoke always reminded me of Hannibal Lector, very prim and proper and terrifying.
"Joshua isn't here," I said, still holding the door open, hoping this would make him leave.
"Yes, I know, he's going to be away the entire weekend, isn't he? But no matter, it's actually you I've come to see, Miranda." That struck me. He never called me Miranda—always young lady or Miss Wells, my maiden name, and as I reluctantly closed the door I was filled with an impending sense of doom.
"I hope I haven't interrupted something," Josh said, gazing at my drawings.
"Oh, um, no, not-not really," I stammered. "I-I was just working on..."
"I see you've had some wine, perhaps you need another glass," Josh said, gesturing to the half-empty glass on the table. "I'll have one, as well."
"Yes, uh-of course, I should have offered. I'll just go in the kitchen a-and get you some." I hurried off into our kitchen and grabbed a wine glass. I realized I was shaking, and, worried it would break, I set it down on the counter. I needed to get a grip. I couldn't let Josh shake me, I wouldn't. He was probably just here to offer me another bribe to divorce Joshua, and the sooner I told him no, the better. I took a deep breath and counted to ten, then grabbed both the glass and bottle and returned to the living room where Josh had placed himself on the couch. I handed him the glass and poured until he signaled me to stop, then set the bottle down on the coffee table. Josh took a sip and smiled.
"Ah, the seventy-five," he said, admiring the wine bottle. "Truly an excellent year, don't you agree?"
"Yes, I suppose," I said.
"Well, it isn't as if you would know. You weren't even born then were you? You'll join me of course," Josh said, topping off my glass and handing it to me. I took it reluctantly. "Cheers."
I took a gulp, then set it down.
"Josh," I said as calmly as I could manage. "My guess is you didn't come here to drink with me, so, if you don't mind, why don't you just offer me whatever it is you've come to bribe me with so that I can tell you no. I really do need to get back to work."
Josh turned to me and smiled. "And here I thought I made you nervous. The cat has some claws after all. Very well then, Miranda I will get right to the point. I'm sure it comes as no surprise to you that my wife and I have not always looked on you in the kindest regard. You have no family background, no social standing, and quite frankly, you are not the spouse we would have chosen for our son."
Harsh as this was, it wasn't the first time I'd heard it, and I didn't even flinch.
"And yet, despite our numerous efforts, it appears we are stuck with you, as my son is quite taken with you, or so he claims. Pity that. I suspect it has everything to do with what you have on under those ghastly rags."
I was suddenly very aware that I was not wearing a bra, and that the breeze from the fan was making my nipples hard and quite visible through the nearly threadbare fabric. Josh didn't even try to hide his gaze, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of embarrassing me. My blood began to boil and I gripped the arms of the chair as Josh calmly took another sip.
"What is it you want, Josh?" I asked suddenly bursting out of my chair and placing myself in front of him.
Josh held the stem of the glass between his thumb and index finger, twirling it thoughtfully, admiring the way the light played with the redness of the liquid inside.
"What is it I want?" Josh repeated. He turned to face me. "Why, I want what any man wants my dear, and that is to make his wife happy. And of course nothing would make my Reeve happier than to be rid of you."
Josh stood and walked toward me, backing me against the wall. He reached in his coat and for a moment I was worried he was going to pull out a gun. Instead he pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose. But it occurred to me that this just might be something Josh would do as a last resort, and I began to tremble nervously.
"Y-you're not going to kill me, are you?" I asked.