After meeting her a few years earlier, I’d said to Bill that it wasn’t that I didn’t like Virginia Dwire, or, more specifically, Virginia Cassidy Dell Blythe Clinton Dwire; it was that we had nothing in common except him. But the truth was that I also didn’t like her. I found her manipulative and petty, theatrical and needy. Conveniently, given that it behooved all of us to conceal the natural animosity between Virginia and me, it also was true we had nothing in common except Bill.
