Green
Card
E. Adams
Copyright © 2017 Elizabeth Adams
All rights reserved.
DEDICATION
For my grandmother, who told me life is what you make it.
Well, here goes.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
The Plan
The Deal
The Date
Aftermath
Photo Shoot
Second Thoughts
Sleepover
The Proposal
Vegas
Wedding Night
Week One
Growing Pains
Games & Plans
Lords & Ladies
Reception
Gingerbread Men
Feel the Burn
Moment of Truth
Hostile Takeover
Intimacy?
Poison
Game Point
Mad
Doghouse
Thanksgiving
Introducing Mrs. Barrett
Internship
About Time
Addicted
Christmas in London
Taggston Publishing
Valentine’s
Happy Birthday
Busted
Cap & Gown
Take Me Away
Hard
The Trouble with Sisters
Fade to Autumn
Tit for Tat
Oh, Mama
Stalling
Desperate Measures
Keep You
Here Comes the Bride
Liz’s Go-To Recipes
About the Author
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
There are so many people I would like to thank. This book has been in the works for years, callously being set aside for silly things like childbirth and degree completion, and yet, through all of that, there were people who consistently told me to keep at it and supported my efforts—through the first publication and this second edition rewrite.
I have to thank Rose, for reading every word and commenting diligently on what worked and what didn’t. She truly is a gem. Big love for my dear friend Lori who always believed I could be, and in fact already was, a successful writer, and of course for calmly reminding me that this was a worthy pursuit when I thought about setting it aside. When she came on board as editor, the sun shone a little brighter.
Huge props to Caitlin Daschner at Chromantic Studio, my fabulous graphic designer, who managed to create two covers that I (and hopefully the readers) adore. She also gave me the Nutella line in chapter nineteen, one of my favorites.
I have to thank my friends Andrea, Debra, and Rachel, who have helped me in big and small ways, by listening, helping me choose names, catching errors, cold reading, and being patient soundboards. My sweet husband has put up with a lot throughout this process and made it possible for me to take this project on. He was an all-out rock star at the end. And, of course, getting his green card was the inspiration for this book, though he didn’t pay me to marry him.
1
The plan
Mid-April
“Hello, Jamison. Where do we stand?”
“Well, we've got a bit of a problem,” he answered as he sat in front of his friend's desk.
“How so?”
“You know how it’s about time to renew your visa?”
“Yeah, we do it every few years. It's never been a problem before.”
“Well, now there's a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” Harper sat forward and placed his elbows on the desk.
“Do you remember Alicia Winters?”
He grimaced.
“I'll take that as a yes. As it turns out, she wasn't too happy about the way your relationship ended last January.”
“Relationship?” he cried. “We went on three dates!”
“Either way, she's pissed. Apparently, she thought she was going to be the next Mrs. Harper and is not too happy about the breakup.”
Harper rolled his eyes.
“She has some friends in important places. A few well-placed phone calls and you've been red-flagged.”
“What do you mean red-flagged?”
“I mean you are now under investigation by immigration.”
“Investigation for what?”
“It looks like Ms. Winters has accused you of illegal activities and something to do with off-shore accounts and tax havens.”
Harper's face turned an unhealthy shade of purple. “She what?”
Jamison continued, “What this means for you is that your visa cannot be renewed until the investigation is complete.”
“When will that be?”
“No one knows, but now that the FBI is involved-”
“FBI?” Harper interrupted, his voice rising slightly in pitch.
“It's just a formality. I'm sure once they do a little looking around, they'll pull back. But immigration will be on you for a while, and they're not known for expediency.”
Harper looked at him with raised brows.
“We're not even supposed to know about this yet, nothing has officially been declared—I know someone at immigration. Best case scenario, it'll be over in two to three months. Worst case, you're looking at eighteen months to two years.”
“Two years!”
“Sorry. They take this a lot more seriously now than they used to. I'm doing everything I can, but you are an important figure. It would be quite a feather in some inspector's cap to nail you.”
“Yeah, but doesn't it occur to them not to fool around with powerful people?”
“You would think, but,” he trailed off.
“So what do I do now? Doesn't my visa expire soon?”
“Four months to be exact. I'm looking at ways around it to try and keep you in the country, but there aren't many.”
“How many is not many?” asked Harper.
“Well, really, there's only one.”
“And what is that?”
“You're not going to like it.”
“Jamison!”
“All right, I do have one idea. It's a loop-hole and pretty risky, but if it works, your problems could be solved for the next twelve years at least.”
“Well out with it, man!”
“You could get married.”
Silence.
“To an American, of course.”
More silence.
“It's the only way to stay in New York.”
“Isn't there some sort of investment visa?”
“There is, but investment visas require a lot of financial documentation and we don't want to draw attention to your assets right now. If you marry an American, all the focus is on her money. With any luck, you'll slide under the radar—the different visa types aren't even handled by the same department. Of course, if you don't want to get married, you can always go back to England, wait for the investigation to be over, then we can re-apply. There's a decent chance they'll give you another one.”
“And what are the chances they won't?”
“It's really fifty-fifty. A lot of it just depends on the mood of the consulate. You have some friends in useful places, that should help, but there are no guarantees.”
“If my visa is suspended or denied, can I still visit here, as long as I don't do business?”
“In short, no. You wouldn't be allowed into the country again until the investigation cleared. And since you still maintain controlling interest in Taggston, they'll be keeping a close watch on your company, too. Especially since Taggston has been sponsoring your work visa all this time. You may run into some difficulty with the larger deals—like the Helgsen merger.”
Harper ran his hands through his hair. “We've been working on that d
eal for months!”
“I know.”
“We're talking millions of dollars here! Not to mention hundreds of jobs.”
“I know.”
Harper growled and hung his head back, exhaling angrily toward the ceiling.
“I know.” Jamison sounded sympathetic.
“You think I should get married. To an American. Soon,” Harper said.
“I’m sorry, Harper, I know this is unexpected and, well, damned inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient?”
“Okay, awful. But I think it’s your best option.”
Harper exhaled loudly. “Give me a while to think about it, Jamison.”
“All right. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
Jamison quietly left the room and Harper turned his chair around and stared out the window at his view of the Manhattan skyline. Could he leave this place and the life he’d built here? Could he go back to London full time? Did he want to? What would that do to his business, to his life?
He stood and paced the room with one hand on the back of his neck.
“Bloody immigration, bloody rules, bloody Alicia Winters.”
He passed his assistant on his way out. “Goodnight, Evelyn.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Harper.”
He paused in the hall and looked back at his always-efficient assistant and considered her for a moment. Would she marry him to keep him in the country? She’s loyal… He quickly shook off the thought and moved to the elevator. I can’t marry my assistant. That would be damn awkward. There’s got to be another way.
**
Andrew Jamison looked up when he heard the knock on his door. “Come in.”
“Morning, Jamison.”
“Damn, Harper, you look like hell! You were up all night worrying, weren’t you?”
“Worrying and researching. And I was only up half the night.”
“And what did you decide?” Jamison asked as William Harper fell into the chair in front of his desk.
Harper sighed and looked around the room before focusing on his friend.
“I guess there's really only one option.”
Jamison beamed. “I'm glad you came around. Any preferences for the lucky lady?”
“I don't want one of the usuals. No high society women. For one thing, they'd want a big fancy wedding and we don't have that kind of time. I assume I need to sew this up soon?” He shot Jamison a questioning look.
“That would be wise.”
“Okay. So we need a woman we can trust. Someone who won't say anything about the whole thing being a sham and who will sign an ironclad pre-nup. No one with a record or a gambling problem. And no drinkers! I don't need a repeat of that Clare fiasco from last summer.”
Jamison shuddered. “No. You'll need to pay her, of course. You may be a catch, but if you are planning on divorcing her in two years, she's going to want to be compensated in some way.”
Harper nodded, then looked up. “Why do you say two years?”
“When you sponsor a spouse for immigration, or a green card as it's called, if you've been married less than two years at the time of application, you're granted a temporary twenty-four-month visa instead of the usual ten year green card. After two years, you re-file to prove you weren't screwing the system—it's pretty basic really—and get your ten year card.”
“I see. Would we have to do all those tests like they show in the cinema? Like knowing each other’s favorite films and all that?”
“Hopefully not. That only happens if they are particularly suspicious of you. Which may happen in your case, but it's never really like that anyway. Generally, you turn in a lot of legal documents, show some proof of relationship—photographs, phone records, that sort of thing—and your friends will have to swear that you're a real couple.”
“Really? Why?”
“There's the theory that you might be able to get someone to marry you and lie, but it would be harder to find several people to go along with it.”
“Hmm.”
“Or it could just be more bureaucratic BS.” Andrew shrugged. “So it would probably be best to act like a real couple in front of your friends. Especially with you being in the public eye so much. Every time you get photographed at an event, it proves that your marriage is legit.”
“I see. So who will we find to do this? An actress? You already said I'd have to pay her.”
“I don't think an actress is the best way to go. Ultimately, they are out to forward their careers and if exposing you helps them with that...”
“Right. So how do we find a woman who will act like a wife without being a wife, who's trustworthy and believable and has nothing better to do for the next two years of her life?”
“Funny you should ask that. You remember Jenny, the girl I've been seeing?”
“The one from that charity organization?”
“Yes. Well, she has a sister.”
“Oh, come on, Andrew!”
“Now, hear me out! Jenny and I have been together almost five months now and I've seen a lot of Lizzy. She's a great girl and I really think you two would get on well if you actually gave her a chance.”
Will rolled his eyes. “What kind of name is Lizzy? And what do you mean 'if I actually gave her a chance'?”
“Lizzy is short for Elizabeth, Will, as everyone knows. AND I mean that you tend to go on one or two dates with a girl then send her packing because she didn't meet some imaginary picture in your mind of the perfect woman. Hardly a recipe for success, you must admit.”
Will ignored his comments and moved to his next objection. “What makes you so sure she'd do it? No boyfriend?”
“She broke it off with her old boyfriend a couple months ago. She's in grad school now, at Columbia—literature I think. Anyway, she's got a year left on her masters and is working like a dog to pay her tuition and cover her living expenses. She'd probably be thrilled not to have to pay rent anymore—after all, she'd move in with you.”
Andrew laughed at Harper's expression.
“Don't worry. It's a big place, I'm sure you can find a way to cohabit without sacrificing your peace of mind. And if you gave her a good enough allowance, she could quit her job and focus completely on grad school. Who'd turn that chance down?”
Harper took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. “You think she's trustworthy?”
“She's the vault. I told her about a surprise I was planning for Jenny and she never caved. Even after Jenny practically begged her. If she won't tell her favorite sister, she won't talk to the press.”
“Not telling about a necklace you bought for your girlfriend isn't quite the same thing, Andrew.”
“I know that, Will. I was just giving an example. Trust me, I'm a good judge of character. Lizzy's the girl.”
Will sighed and sat back. “All right. When do I meet her?”
“Tonight. I'm meeting the girls for dinner.”
**
“Man, I wish I'd had time to change,” Liz said as she pulled at her loose red T-shirt. “I had to take Mrs. Patterson's dog to the vet.”
“You look fine, red's your color,” Jennifer replied. She walked briskly next to her sister, her skirt swishing across her knees and her blonde hair twisted over one shoulder.
“I noticed you used 'fine', not 'great',” Liz retorted.
Jennifer laughed lightly. “Well, those jeans are great.”
Liz laughed and playfully swatted her sister's arm while rubbing at a splotch of dirt on the leg of her jeans.
“Who is this guy again, Jenny?” Liz asked as she took Jennifer's proffered lip gloss and applied it liberally. I would choose today not to wear make-up. I HATE blind dates!
“He's Andy's best friend. They've known each other since third grade, or something like that. Anyway, he's in a spot of trouble and needs some help.”
“Immigration trouble. What do you want me to do again?” She pulled her long, dark hair out of its ponytail and finger-combed it before twisting it into a neat bun on top of
her head.
“It depends on what the guys have come up with. He may be looking for a temporary wife.”
“That's what I thought you meant when we talked earlier. What's wrong with him? Why doesn't he have a girlfriend?”
“Not sure. I've only met him once. He's some kind of business big-wig. Old money. I don't think the debutantes are up for this particular task.” She gave her sister a significant look.
“So what does he want from me? Besides marrying him, of course?”
“I don't know for sure, but I'm sure he's willing to pay you something. And you know you could use the money,” Jennifer said.
“Yeah, since skanky Arlene moved out on the fly, I don't know how I'm going to make rent next month.”
Jenny squeezed her hand and they continued down the sidewalk, turning into a small restaurant on the corner. Liz was considering the idea. She'd seen that movie with Andie McDowell and the chubby French guy. They got married, she moved into a great apartment, and she didn't see him again for a year. What could be easier?
**
“Hi, Andy!” Liz kissed his cheek. “And you must be William. I'm Elizabeth, everyone calls me Liz.” She extended her hand towards him. He's tall, that's good. Blue eyes. Kind of serious looking. Geez, who died?
“William Harper, it's nice to meet you.” Not bad. Not great, but not bad. She turned around and he got a look at her posterior. Maybe a little bit great.
“Good to see you again, William.” Jenny kissed his cheek.
“You too, Jennifer.”
The four of them sat at the table, women on one side, men on the other, and perused the menus.
“What's everyone else getting?” Liz asked.
“I think I'll have the fish,” Andrew said.
“I'm having the eggplant,” Jenny replied.
“Hmm. Andy, remind me again if the lamb is any good here?” Liz asked.
“It's good, but you didn't like it last time.” Will looked at Andrew questioningly, but his friend was focused on his menu.
“Oh, that's right. What are you getting, William?” Liz asked.
“I thought I'd have the steak.”
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