By Susan Isaacs
Name her superficial, yet Susie B Anthony Rabinowitz Gersten assumed her marriage was once great—and why no longer? Jonah Gersten, MD, a Park road plastic health practitioner, essentially cherished her. He used to be good-looking, winning, and a doting dad to their four-year-old triplets. but if Jonah is located useless within the higher East aspect condo of second-rate “escort” Dorinda Dillon, Susie is beaten with questions left unanswered. It’s undesirable sufficient to understand your husband’s been murdered, yet even worse whilst you’re universally pitied (and quietly mocked) as a result sleaze issue. None of it is sensible to Susie—not a sexual liaison with an individual like Dorinda, now not the “better to not talk about it” reaction from Jonah’s companions. With support from her tough-talking, high-style grandma Ethel, who flies in from Miami, she takes on her snooty in-laws, her husband’s companions, the NYPD, and the DA as she attempts to end up that her excellent lifestyles with Jonah used to be no lie.
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Additional resources for As Husbands Go
He looked strong with that squared jaw you see on cowboy-booted politicians from the West who make shitty remarks about immigrants, which of course he never would. Plus, he was physically strong, with a muscled triangle of a body. And the amazing thing was, even though Jonah was truly hot in his non-tall way and had that grown-up-rich-in-Manhattan air of self-possession, he gave off waves of decency. So his female classmates, the nurses, they were into him. But he had me. He never even noticed them.
Chapter Three I sat on the edge of the mattress. Instead of doing what I meant to--covering my face and sobbing--I started sliding and almost landed on my ass. My nightgown again, and the perils of the good life: Everything was so smooth, there was hardly any friction between the gown and the Egyptian cotton sheet. My bare feet saved me with an up-down, up-down step, like in one of those folk dances performed by people trailing ribbons. When at last I got steady, I was panting, almost gasping, from the effort.
Calling that green-eyed minx a slut is too good for her. " It's a long story I won't go into here, but I was twenty when I sought out and actually found where my looks came from: my no-good grandmother who'd taken a hike, abandoning not only her boring husband but her eight-year-old daughter--my mother. Grandma Ethel was tall, willowy, with liquid-jade-mixed-with-cream eyes. She was me minus the overbite. She told me I could thank her for my hair, too, light brown with gold highlights. She was pretty sure hers had been my color, but she'd become a blonde in 1949 so couldn't swear to it.