True, she had her diamonds and lavish vacations, and they were rich enough that Myron could probably retire young without hurting them if she’d allow it (never). But she’d pictured Hollywood parties and Beverly Hills. She’d pictured property on the French Riviera and a Manhattan penthouse, not a simple brownstone. Unfortunately the same meekness that made Myron a perfectly henpecked husband had also kept him from moving up enough in the cutthroat business of high finance to get to where the really big bucks were made.
True again, she’d thoroughly enjoyed running him down and even slapping him around the last twenty years, particularly as she grew increasingly sick of him. But that hardly made up for the terrible way he’d failed her, both as a provider and a husband. A premature ejaculator
