"What?"
 
 "Just follow me. Quickly. I want to show you
 
 somet
 
 hing." She took my hand and led me out of the
 
 ballroom. We went to the stairway and up the stairs
 
 quickly.
 
 "Where are we going?"
 
 "To my suite," she said. When we arrived, she
 
 went to her wall safe. "I had Tony install this for my
 
 jewels," she explained, "and," she added turning back
 
 to me, a wry smile on her face, "my documents." "Documents?"
 
 She just continued to smile impishly and
 
 opened her safe. Then she reached in and produced a
 
 very important-looking file. Inside were three pages
 
 of long paper clipped together. She handed it to me
 
 and I read the title: "A Prenuptial Agreement." "What is this?" I asked.
 
 "It's a contract between Tony and me," she said
 
 proudly. "I had my attorney prepare it."
 
 "A contract?"
 
 "Yes. If we should divorce, for any reason," she
 
 said pointing to some words in the second paragraph
 
 of the first page, "I get half of what he is worth. Half!"
 
 she repeated. "Half of all this," she said extending her
 
 arms. "You can read it right there," she added pointing
 
 to the papers in my hands. I looked down at them, but
 
 the words were gibberish to me, not only because I
 
 didn't understand the "Whereas's" and "Resolved's,"
 
 but because it was so shocking to learn that Momma
 
 and Tony's love affair was written down in legal
 
 language like a deed to a house.