When Margaret Freeman was 18, she made a decision that would affect the rest of her life: she married sweet, funny Daniel Hernandez whom her wealthy father disapproved of. “You marry that low-life and you’ll get nothing from me Margaret!” her father had screamed. “You’ll see what love really is when you get to live in a one-bedroom rat-hole with roaches crawling up the walls!”
But Margaret didn’t listen. She was sure she would never regret loving Daniel. Ever. At first, it was romantic to go home to that tiny apartment (there were no rats and roaches — there was no space). Margaret found herself a job as a receptionist in a big hotel, and Daniel started working for the post office. “Job security, love,” Daniel had explained when Margaret urged him to find a higher-paying job. “I have to know there’s going to be a pension to keep us when we are old!”
Margaret understood Daniel’s obsession with security. Hadn’t he watched his mother live on the pittance social welfare awarded her after his father died in a work accident at a construction site? He’d been an illegal, no insurance, no pension for his widow and five children.
Daniel was determined the same thing wouldn’t happen to Margaret or their children. Working for the post office, Daniel believed, would give them that assurance. But two modest salaries didn’t go far with two children to raise. Even though they were frugal, every cent Margaret and Daniel earned, they spent. There was precious little leftover for savings. Then their two children grew up, left home, and started their own lives — their son moved to Alaska, and their daughter to Brazil, and Margaret and Daniel were right back where they had started.
It was around this time that Margaret’s father passed away. Apparently, time and Margaret’s happiness hadn’t softened his heart because he left his entire, very considerable estate to his youngest son, who was untroubled by twinges of conscience. Once you give in to doubt, it can destroy your peace of mind. Daniel was devastated. “This is what loving me cost you, Margaret!” he said bitterly. “The life you deserved!” “No!” Margaret told him firmly. “I wouldn’t trade what we have for all the money in the world!”
But Daniel grew silent and distant, and for the first time in thirty-eight years of marriage, Margaret started wondering if he still loved her. Then Daniel started taking on overtime at work, a lot of overtime. “It’s this new overnight delivery mail, it has to be sorted 24/7…” he explained. But Margaret noticed that when Daniel came home at two or three in the morning, he smelled different.
He smelled of lilies, and Margaret had never liked lily-scented soap. It reminded her of her paternal grandmother, a woman she had never liked. Daniel smelled of lilies, and he didn’t make love to Margaret anymore unless it was the weekend. At first, Margaret told herself it was her imagination, but things didn’t change.