I've discovered over the last eight years that being a step-parent isn't easy. For example, I have no problem telling my adult daughter when I think she has made a mistake. As her father, I have both the right and the obligation to do so. But I hesitate to do the same with my step-children. And as far as my step-grandchildren go, I am very careful when I correct them for doing something I think is inappropriate. I walk a very fine line and it is sometimes uncomfortable. So when it came to my attention that my step daughter--in-law might be cheating on her husband, I was in a quandary.
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My name is Patrick (Pat) Hansen. My wife, Jenny, and I have been married for eight years. It is a second marriage for both of us. Our relationship however, goes back over 30 years. We dated for a few months in High School before going our separate ways. We got back together ten years ago.
I had been married for 18 years when my wife and I separated. It wasn't because one of us cheated, our finances, or our sex lives. It was because of a fence around our swimming pool. Well, in all honesty the disagreement about the fence was just the last straw in a huge bale of straw. Over the years our relationship had changed and 'we, us and our' had become 'me, mine and I' for both of us. So we decided to call it quits.
Our daughter handled the divorce as well as could be expected and accepted having two houses which gradually became two homes. She likes her step-father and treats him with respect and affection; likewise with my wife, her step-mother. Jenny's son and daughter feel the same about me. At least I think they do.
My daughter once asked Jenny why we quit dating in high school.
"Because I wouldn't put out and Nancy did." My daughter absolutely howled.
My first wife and I were separated and the divorce was still a few weeks away. I was 'online' looking for one thing and something completely unrelated to my original search appeared and reminded me of the Jenny I knew so long ago; so I typed her name. I didn't know her married name, or even if she was married, so I typed her maiden name. Up popped her name with her husband's obituary. The obituary even had her telephone number in it, which I thought was unusual.
So I called her and the rest, as they say, is history.
I am the Director of Safety for a large trucking company. We moved to New Orleans five years ago to take the job. My work is difficult, but fortunately keeps me close to home. Jenny spends her time sitting on several boards for charities around the area. We are not wealthy by any stretch of the imagination, but we can do just about anything we want to do. Her late husband's investments helped see to that.
My daughter is single and lives in Cincinnati, Ohio, where she and her mother own a relatively successful gift shop. Jenny's daughter lives in Estes Park, Colorado, with her husband who is a park ranger and their two children. Her son, Tyson (Ty for short) lives with his wife of five years in Memphis where he is a manager for a package delivery service. Ty's wife Lauren is a dental assistant and works for one of the area's most popular dentists. They have a four year old daughter named Madge.
Jenny and I don't get to see our children nearly often enough; maybe once or twice a year for a few days. The past couple of years we have seen Ty, Lauren and Madge more often than that. It is about a six hour drive from Memphis and he seems to have lots of three day weeks ends so they drive down every few months. Mardi Gras is a good time for them to come and Madge loves to yell "throw me something, mister" while watching the parades. She has enough beads to buy Manhattan Island all over again.
But for the last year or so only Ty and Madge made the trip. Lauren always seemed too busy. It was the same thing last summer. Jenny and I took all of the children on a cruise. Everyone made it but Lauren. "She couldn't get off work." Said Ty. Another time Jenny and I were to meet them, as well as my daughter, in New York City, but Lauren, again, was unable to be there. "It was a busy week and she felt guilty about taking off." Was the excuse Ty gave.
"I'm beginning to think she doesn't like us."
"It's not that, Pat. I guess she feels like she needs to be close to work in case an emergency pops up."
"When your job becomes more important than your family it might be time to find another job."
We never talked about it again and I never felt close enough to him to really discuss his personal life, and I have certainly not discussed it with Jenny, but I had begun to have some concerns about their marriage. Now what, if anything, should I do about those concerns? I decided to do nothing for the time being.
Four months ago, one of the trucking associations my company is a member of was hosting a seminar in Nashville. My boss decided that it would be a good idea for us to be represented so I made arrangements for my assistant to go. Two days before the Seminar was to start her husband had emergency gall bladder surgery and she couldn't go so I went. That sounds funny. Emergency gall bladder surgery. But I understand that it isn't very funny to the patient.
Jenny thought it would be a good time for her to visit her daughter in Colorado and I agreed.
The seminar was over on Friday afternoon and several of us were going to have dinner and socialize for the evening. We were able to get a table at a very nice steakhouse and their Wagyu Strip and Creamed Spinach were perfect. My flight didn't leave until noon the next day so I was in no hurry to leave the steakhouse; besides, the Hilton was only a couple of minutes away, so I decided to have another drink and call Jenny.
My gin and tonic had just arrived and I was ready to hit Jenny's number on speed dial when I saw a couple being escorted to a table not too far from my own. I watched as the waiter held the chair for the lady and she sat. I have no idea how women can sit when their dresses are so tight they can hardly breathe, much less move. It always seemed to me that the dress would rip at the seams whenever the wearer would bend and try to sit. That was the case here. How she was able to sit amazed me. And how one little string kept the top of the dress from falling down also amazed me. Spaghetti strap, I think it's called. Then I watched as the gentleman with her reached across the table and took her hands. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but it must have been funny, because she laughed at virtually everything he said.
I took a couple of sips of my drink, but couldn't concentrate on it. They ordered wine, then dinner. I sat and watched. The wait staff kept checking on me to see if I needed anything and kept hinting that they could use my table. The couple was about half way through their dinner when I decided to leave. I paid my check and stepped outside and asked the door man to get me a cab. He signaled and one appeared as if by magic.
"I would like for you get in a position to see everybody who comes out of the restaurant. I want to be able to follow them whichever direction they go. Can you do that?"
"Sure can, but I have to keep the meter running while we wait."
"That's okay."
There was an alley across the street and he parked in there. And we sat. And we watched.
It was about 9:30 and I took out my phone. It was 8:30 in Colorado; still early enough to call Jenny.
"Hi. Sweetie, How's Nashville?"
"Not bad. I'm glad the seminar is over. I was thinking about swinging through Memphis tomorrow and having dinner with the kids and then getting home on Sunday. What do you think?"