Marriage of Convenience Page 12

  Her mother was not handling the news well. Her forehead was wrinkled, her eyebrows drawn dawn, and her mouth pinched. She darted heated looks of pure hatred alternately between the lawyer and Caroline.

  “There has got to be a mistake,” she said to the lawyer, her chin lifted. “There is no way after thirty years of marriage that I’ll be left high and dry. I’m the reason he even made as much money as he did. I shouldn’t have to wait for what he owes me. And I definitely shouldn’t have to wait until my child decides it’s time. Why would he do this to me?”

  “I am not at liberty to say.”

  “Of course you can say. We’re all family here.” Mother’s voice was indignant.

  “No, ma’am, I’m sorry. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to meet with Caroline alone.” He stood from behind his desk and swept his hand toward the door, dismissing the remainder of the family.

  Caroline was almost afraid to look at their faces. She could feel their eyes on her. She lifted her chin defiantly and met their wide-eyed stares. Her brother was red-faced, his fists clenched. He rushed to their mother’s side. She smoothed his brow and assured him, her eyes on Caroline, that she would take care of this after dinner, no need to worry. The look her mother threw her made Caroline think she ought to skip dinner.

  Sarah looked dazed, but not altogether unhappy. Though she was as privileged as the rest of them, she’d always been a little less concerned about the things money could buy. She wasn’t completely impervious to the fine life their father’s hard work had provided—she had her favorite items, to be sure. But she was fine with those things. She even attempted a smile at her older sister. A glare and shove toward the door from their mother ended any possible sense of camaraderie she’d tried to communicate.

  Alone with her father’s lawyer, Caroline was a little more comfortable. Not that she understood what was happening any more than she had a few minutes ago, but she no longer felt her life was in imminent danger.

  Settling back in his chair, the old man cleared his throat.

  “I imagine this is all a little heavy to hear, the loss of your beloved father so recently upon you. Nevertheless, please pay attention to what I’m going to tell you. You could be at this job for years.” He eyed her over his spectacles and waited for her attention.

  Caroline met his gaze and nodded her assent. “Continue.”

  “Your father expressed concern for your well being, dear. In his many conversations with me over the years he became more and more convinced that if he were to pass before your mother, you would not be taken care of. In the middle of last year he indicated he wanted to revise his will to reflect these concerns. And so here it is.” He hesitated. “Well, why don’t I just give you this?” He handed her a white envelope. Her name was scrawled across the front in her father’s handwriting. She’d recognize it anywhere. He liked to use a fountain pen, so the beginning and end of each unconnected letter were pointed, much like the flare a calligrapher would leave. Flipping it over, Caroline noted that it had been sealed with wax. Pressed into the seal were her father’s initials. She raised the envelope to her nose and inhaled deeply. Yes, he’d definitely been in possession of this paper. Despite the surreal nature of the day’s events, of this private meeting with her late father’s attorney, reality was beginning to set in. The scent that wafted from the paper was of her father’s cologne. Well, not just his cologne, but his very nature. Caroline didn’t think it all came from a bottle but was the result of the cologne mixing with his natural essence. He’d smelled warm, spicy, and safe. She shivered at the memories the scent invoked and then gave in to the sadness that rushed to the surface as her brain mentally noted that she’d never feel his arms around her again. No hugs, no laughter, no shared secrets.

  “Miss?” The attorney prompted her.

  Caroline opened her eyes and, after a last moment, snapped the wax seal.

  Unfolding the paper, she settled into her chair.

  “Dearest Caroline,

  I know you’re going through a rough time, and I hope my words will wrap you in warmth and offer some comfort. I know you’ll miss me, but through my will I hope I can create a certain level of independence and safety that will ensure you don’t suffer unnecessarily at my passing. I am leaving everything to you. I know the money doesn’t interest you per se. So for us it will merely be a tool. A tool you will use to teach our family about love, about respect, and about forgiveness. Over the next ten years, your mother, brother, and sister have the opportunity to inherit. They must 1. Never ask for the money, 2. Be respectful in their treatment of you, and 3. Make efforts to build the family relationship you and I have enjoyed over the years. If at the expiration of that time they have not met these goals, Mr. Hawthorne will handle the estate. You shall receive a percentage of the estate, andthe remainder will be liquidated and divided among several local charities.

  Though I have no doubt as to your fairness and honesty, Mr. Hawthorne will attend the quarterly family meetings to ensure your safety as well as the integrity of the proceedings. It is not my wish that a lawsuit ensues with accusations of undue influence or favoritism.

  I realize with your feelings raw and having probably already experienced some recent disdainful treatment, you’re not anxious to take on this role. But I implore you to consider it. Your well being and my happiness depend on it, dear.

  Remember that I love you and am with you always.

  Dad

  Caroline read and reread the letter. She was supposed to make her family play nice, or they wouldn’t get their inheritance. Great plan, dad. She expressed as much to Mr. Hawthorne.

  “Well, ‘play nice’ might be too strong an interpretation. I think we can leave it at asking them to think before they speak and perhaps be thoughtful of the feelings of those around them. A mincing of words, perhaps, but important ones, I think.”

  “Does he really think it will take ten years? Surely, once they know they’ll learn how to play the game.” Caroline was fairly certain that her mother and brother could be bribed into behaving.

  “Once they know? You can’t tell them, child. That’s part of the proof we’ll have as to the sincerity of their accomplishment of the requirements. Indeed, if you tell them what they must do, they will simply do it until they get what they want. Rather, having them figure it out allows them to develop the characteristics naturally, meaningfully.”

  “Or not at all,” Caroline said.

  “As the case may be.” He shrugged. “Your father’s concern is your wellbeing and happiness, not their bank accounts. Each family member has sufficient funds to survive without the inheritance, so don’t let that be the reason you waver.”

  ****

  “My mother sent me away that night to boarding school so she wouldn’t be reminded of, in her words, my father’s lack of loyalty.” Caroline’s voice was almost inaudible with sadness.

  Though many years had passed, her throat felt tight and dry with memories. She’d been so lonely without her father. And to be cut off from everyone else, literally overnight, had nearly crushed her. She’d been ready to return to the lawyer’s office and refuse her bequeathed responsibilities. Only the love she felt for her father kept her from betraying his wishes. He’d always been there for her, after all. To not do this for him would have been ignoring the pain and unhappiness he’d subjected himself to in standing up for her over the years.

  “So we meet once a quarter to discuss the state of the estate.” Caroline cringed. The tightening of her gut told her it was about that time again.

  “Sarah has already earned her share, but she refuses to accept it while the others are still waiting.”

  “But you spoke so well of her earlier. Surely she doesn’t condone your mother’s and brother’s attitude toward you?” Malcolm’s voice held an incredulous tone.

  “God, no. She said she’s afraid that they’ll attack her, too. She’d be permitted to skip the meetings then, and that would leave me alone. I can accept her n
ot wanting to step in front of the firing squad, and I appreciate her presence.”

  In truth her presence was just that, a warm body in the room. Sarah had never had the fortitude necessary to stand up to their mother. The risks were high, and the rewards nothing but uncertain. Her mother had outlived their father, and that certainly seemed to bolster the sentiment that evil could actually conquer good outside of fairy tales. Growing up Caroline had been fine to allow her sister to receive the brunt of their mother’s attention. She’d never come to Sarah’s aid. But as the trustee of her father’s massive estate, Caroline was the target of her mother’s scrutiny. Now the shoe was on the other foot, and she found the fit to be decidedly uncomfortable. Nevertheless, Sarah’s attendance did remind Caroline that not everyone in her family sucked. That was important to her.

  When Caroline finished what she called her tale of woe, she sat quietly. She couldn’t bear to see Malcolm’s response, so she didn’t look at him. Years of therapy had allowed her to understand that she was the victim and not the problem, but she also understood that many people had real problems, and that in comparison what plagued her was a mere nuisance, not the end of the world.

  “I think.” Malcolm paused. “And previously I didn’t think this could be possible.” Malcolm’s voice was quiet, almost awed. “You have a more dysfunctional family than my own.”

  Caroline snorted in an unladylike fashion at the understatement. But she relaxed. He wasn’t going to judge her, tell her she should be glad that a mean mother was the extent of her problems.

  “Ours wouldn’t be a marriage based on the length of time we’ve known each other, but hopefully on mutual respect.” Malcolm paused. “That being said, how do you see me supporting you in regards to your family?”

  The question was unexpected. No one had offered assistance before. Her sister merely offered not to make matters worse. But Malcolm’s question left open the possibility of proactive intervention. She hadn’t considered this option before.

  “Honestly?”

  “Always.”

  “I don’t know.” Caroline realized her response was inadequate, but her thoughts seemed scattered, discombobulated. Someone was offering, genuinely offering, assistance. Unsure how to respond, Caroline sipped her wine. She was stalling. She knew it. So did he. Her face burned under his scrutiny. Perhaps he was right to put her under a microscope. After all, she had this appalling story, but she’d never considered possible solutions? Never once speculated about what she’d do to rectify the situation if only she had some support? She shrugged, her face mirroring her inner consternation. She’d always assumed she’d be alone. And if her therapist offered a lesson on how to accept assistance gracefully, she’d definitely missed that session. But the offer felt sincere, and she felt it would be one step short of rude not to allow him to be a part of what was a major slice of her life.

  “I guess,” she spoke deliberately, pausing to consider the verbiage, “I’d like your unquestioning support of my decisions.”

  Malcolm tilted his head to the side and seemed to be considering her words.

  “I think that would be obvious. What if I thought there was a way to … encourage cooperation, would you allow me to act?”

  Caroline raised an eyebrow. Interesting. Was he suggesting gangster-like behavior? Violent retribution?

  “So long as the … fallout … didn’t cause long term damage, I guess I could support that.”

  Nodding his satisfaction, Malcolm sipped his wine and stretched his legs out in front of him. He crossed his ankles and sank deeper into the chair.

  A short but comfortable silence stretched between them. They sipped their wine and inhaled the aromatic buds.

  Caroline watched him get more comfortable and was struck at how natural it was to have him in her space. Her sanctuary no less. The space was relatively small—it was NYC after all—but his presence seemed to meld and flow with the surroundings, not overwhelm or interfere. She reached out her hand and let it rest on the back of his. She traced the strong fingers, feeling the tendons and structure that worked together to present a very capable set of hands. She knew what those hands could do, but she’d recently questioned his intent. She wondered if he’d open up to her as she had with him. She supposed only time would tell. Determined to make the most of it and further her own hopes, she set her glass down and knelt in the grass beside his chair. She took his glass and set it on the table beside her own. Taking his hands in hers, she brought them to her lips. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the scent that lingered on his warm skin.

  Releasing her hold only to allow their hands to fall into his lap she whispered, “I had never contemplated the idea of having someone to stand beside me. I’m really happy it’s you.”

  Though she’d looked directly at him when she’d said the words, sheepishness overcame her, and her eyes fell to their hands.

  Malcolm cupped her chin and leaned down to press his lips firmly to hers. “It’s me and you. That’s how it will always be.” He smiled and pulled her into his lap, hugging her close.

  “Stay with me,” Caroline said softly.

  “Of course. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than here with you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The morning sun peeked into the window, and Malcolm stretched his long frame in response to the soft warmth. He felt completely rejuvenated, which was good because he could have sworn that the buzz of his pager was what had awakened him.

  He heard the muffled buzz again and raised his head high enough to see his pants folded at the foot of the bed. Flexing his shoulders, he turned to watch Caroline by his side. She was lying on her side, facing him, her breathing slow and even. He was glad the sound hadn’t awoken her. They’d been up late talking, and he wasn’t sure what she had planned for the day; but he didn’t intend to wake her, so he hoped it wasn’t important.

  He pressed his lips to her forehead. She sighed and shifted toward him slightly. He smiled and leaned his cheek against her hair. She smelled like flowers.

  He slid gently from the bed, grabbed his clothes from the foot of the bed, and closed the door to the bathroom gently. She’d laid out an extra toothbrush, and he showered quickly.

  He tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen where coffee was waiting. He was momentarily taken aback—he was certain he’d seen the outline of her body in the bed. Then he noticed the timer on the coffee pot. Smart girl.

  Finding a sticky and pen on the table in the foyer, he scratched a note. Running lightly back up the stairs, he laid the note on his pillow and kissed her once more. She didn’t stir this time, and he was tempted to see how far he could go before she woke up to greet him in kind. A smile played on his lips. There would plenty of time for that, wouldn’t there?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Caroline awoke with a start as though by a loud sound. But as she lay in her bed getting her bearings, she was greeted only by silence. She wasn’t sure what she expected to hear, but she noticed the feeling of the room more than anything. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Something wasn’t right. She hadn’t drunk that much wine, had she? Malcolm had come home with her. They’d spent some time in the garden and then in the reading room. They’d talked about books, television, and movies. She’d rubbed his feet. He’d massaged her hands as they sat on the couch, their knees drawn up onto the cushions. If someone had seen them, they’d have wondered what was wrong with the other parts of the couch that were being ignored, as Malcolm and Caroline sat so close. And he’d stayed the night. Snuggling into the covers and arching her back she expected to feel his warm broad chest against her back. Nothing.

  Rolling slightly, she eyed his side. Weird that something that had belonged solely to her for years became his so quickly. Shaking the thought away, she tried not to allow the feeling of disappointment wash over her too harshly. Perhaps he was in the kitchen. No. The house felt empty. She hadn’t noticed that before.

  It was as though the emptiness spoke volumes. She could
hear the silence. It hadn’t bothered her before. Now it was oppressive. He’d left without saying goodbye. Then she spotted her monogrammed sticky in the indention of the pillow. The note read: “Dinner? I think we have some plans to arrange.” It was simply signed “M.”

  Caroline felt a shiver run through her. Those “plans” could mean only one thing. She could already hear the soft mewing of her newborn. Was that baby powder she smelled? She wasn’t sure why he’d left so early, but she was sure she’d see him soon.

  She let her feet touch the hardwood floors. The house had been extensively renovated, but it seemed she could never get rid of the drafty floors. She’d tried telling herself over the years that it was part of the charm, a reminder of the house’s graceful ascent into history and bought slippers instead. The problem was that she could never keep track of the little things, and so she was forced to take a cold walk to the bathroom almost every morning.

  She did so this morning without any thought to the draft or the slippers. By the time she was looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, every ivory tooth was visible. She laughed out loud and leaned her forehead against the cool glass. It was coming true. The most exciting event of her life. She was going to be a mother.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Dr. Fowlkes, page 542, please. Dr. Fowlkes, 542.”

  Malcolm stepped out of the examining room just as the loudspeaker delivered the message. The calm, placid voice of the operator usually belied the excitement and urgency that would be impressed upon him when he dialed the extension to the emergency room triage station.

  He’d arrived at the hospital at 7:00 and had been hopping from one task to another all morning. Some doctors on staff complained about the variety of assignments that fell to them on any given day. “I didn’t go to school to do paperwork” was probably the most often voiced complaint at the weekly staff meeting. Neither had Malcolm, but he couldn’t count how many times he’d been ruminating on a case as he filled out charts or dictated information regarding one patient only to have his thoughts clarified or a problem solved for another as the information he was reading combined with other facts he’d already stored.