My Husband Gave My Airplane Seat to His Secretary, Then Thirteen Original Patent Files Stopped Him Cold
Robert poured two fingers of whiskey into a short glass, swirled it until the ice gave up a small sound, and set it down without drinking.
“Sit.”
I sat in the chair with the worn arm, where I used to do my homework.
“Now,” he said.
“Why did you let him have the title?”
“You know why.”
“I know what I think.
Say it out loud.”