"Coal mining."
As she questioned me, she studied what I wore, assessing the fabric and
appraising the cost of each item and making a judgment about my taste
in general.
"And does your family own coal mines?"
"No."
"What do your parents do?"
"Mom's an artist."
"And your father?"
"He's an entrepreneur."
"Doing what?"
I took a breath. "He's developing a technology to burn low-grade
bituminous coal more efficiently."
"And they're still in West Virginia?" she asked.
I decided I might as well go all out. "They love it there," I said. "They
have a great old house on a hill overlooking a beautiful river. They spent
years restoring it."
MY LIFE WITH ERIC was calm and predictable. I liked it that way, and
four years after I moved into his apartment, we got married. Shortly after
the wedding, Mom's brother, my uncle Jim, died in Arizona. Mom came
to the apartment to give me the news and to ask a favor. "We need to buy