" We made love," I said, reaching over and touching her chin. "Several times, and you told me about your late husband and about all the seminarians you laid."She made a wry face and swallowed. "Any more ale?" she asked, holding up her empty mug. I filled it."And then there was a fight and a fire. What happened to you?"She sat back, licked her lips, took a deep breath and said, "Opium." Her eyes were as flat as river stones.I waited, waving at the girl for another pitcher of beer."Within a month," the young woman said, looking at the musty ceiling and then closing her eyes, "within a month, after we parted, I was courted by another minister, a man of the cloth who knew my first husband and ignored all the conventions of mourning. He had visited our home, and had attempted to bed me when he did."Can't blame him for that, I thought, she was likely the best lay in ten counties."The reverend had been to the Orient, to China and I don't where else, the islands. He had a tattoo on his belly,. What else could she want?Darcy took care of all the household bills. She took care of the checkbook. She paid the utilities, car payments, mortgages, credit cards, and insurance policies. Insurance? Insurance? Just on a whim I pulled the insurance folder.Like most young couples, we were terribly under insured. When you are young, you don't think about the possibility of death. I had a small insurance policy, thorugh work, for $50,000. Other than that, the only coverage I had was the home mortgage insurance that Darcy insisted on. If I died, the house would be hers, free and clear. It was cheap, because I was still young, so I had it added to the mortgage payment.I never went into the file cabinet or the checkbook. Darcy knew that, and it turned out to be her mistake. She was meticulous. Her bank account always was right, to the penny. She always knew where every file and receipt was.The mortgage payment included the cost for the homeowners insurance, so there was never a receipt for.
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