Her cheek twitched. “I don’t believe that’s why he married me. He loved me.”
I leaned toward her. “The gossip didn’t bother you at all? It didn’t make you question things even a little?”
She looked up, her eyes shimmering with pain. “Do you want me to say that I questioned things? Will that make you happy?”
“Janelle, of course that wouldn’t make me happy. I just want to know the truth.”
Her jaw tensed. “I know when someone is using me. Trust me, it’s happened often enough. And… e… even if he did approach me at first because of who I am and my family’s money, that changed.”
“Did it?” I found it interesting she was willing to admit her money might have been the initial draw.
“He fell in love with me.” She had a pained expression. “I’m not the fool everyone thinks I am.”
“I don’t think you’re a fool,” I said softly.
“A lot of people do.” She shook her head. “But… the look in Archie’s eyes when he would tell me he loved me… you can’t fake that. You can fake the words. You might even be able to fake expressions. But his eyes… they told me the truth.”
It was impossible not to feel a pang of pity for her. Not because she believed Archie had loved her but because he’d died, and she was left behind having to deal with all the doubt and questions about Archie’s motives for marrying her.
I straightened. “These next questions might be upsetting.”
She squinted at me. “Then why ask them?”
“Because they go to Archie’s character. I need to know what kind of person he was.”
She crossed her arms as if subconsciously shielding herself. “Go ahead.”
I glanced over my notes from my interview with Kobe, mostly stalling for time. I cleared my throat. “Kobe said some interesting things about your mother.”
Frowning, she said, “I thought you were going to ask me things about Archie?”
“I’m getting there. First, I need to ask you some stuff about your mom.”
“What kind of stuff?” she asked suspiciously.
I grimaced. “To be honest, it’s not that flattering.”
“Okay.”
I studied her. “Kobe implied your mother becomes very flirtatious when she drinks.”
“Yes. So?”
“Kobe says she used to hit on him when you were dating.”
Her mouth thinned. “He’s told me that too. I’m not sure I believe him.”
“Why wouldn’t you believe him?”
She sighed. “Kobe has a very high opinion of himself. He thinks every woman wants him.”
“So then you’ve never seen your mother hitting on anyone you date?” I watched her, noticing the pink flush that spread through her cheeks.
“Lots of people get flirtatious when they drink.”
“Yes, but I’m asking about your mother.”
While she lifted one shoulder dismissively, I got the feeling she wasn’t as unaffected as she pretended to be. “I’ll admit when she drinks, she does get frisky. That’s because Dad ignores her. Honest to God, I don’t think I’ve seen the man hug or kiss Mom since I was a child.”
