The Wedding Venture: 5-hour read. Marriage of Convenience, Romantic Comedy (Colorado Billionaires Book 3)

by Regina Duke

  Vicky embraced her. “I’ve missed you so much.” Tears flowed.

  “Easy, girl. I brought you out here to heal your heart, not road test your mascara.” But she hugged back. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get to the airport. Did Her Highness’s driver find you?”

  “Who’s Her Highness?” Vicky wiped hastily at her eyes.

  “Rich old woman, lives in a big house on Billionaire’s Row. That’s what us locals call it. My mother used to work for her, and all my life mom referred to her as Her Highness. Very sad lady.”

  “Oh, I remember. You used to talk about that when we were in high school, how your mom worked for the rich set. She sent her driver for me?”

  “I called her and asked for a favor. You remember how small Eagle’s Toe is. I reminded her about my mother, who only left her employ six months ago, and told her my problem. She said she had the perfect driver for the job.”

  “That was her driver? Wow. Yes, he obviously found me. She must pay him really well. He drives an expensive car.”

  “It probably belongs to Her Highness. But she always did pay a good wage.” She fumbled through her oversized purse for her house keys. “Mom and Dad would never have been able to afford this place if Mom wasn’t working at the Big House.” She unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Hey, where’s your luggage?”

  “The airline says it’ll arrive in the morning. Thank goodness my keyboard was only half an hour late.”

  “No worries. I’ve got extra jammies. Come on in, you must be exhausted.”

  Vicky followed Madlyn inside. She marveled at her friend’s ability to create her own breeze as she moved.

  “I see you still favor the cultured vagabond attire you wore in high school,” Vicky said fondly.

  Madlyn flashed her a warm smile. “I’ve found a kindred spirit, clothes-wise. She owns the boutique where I work. This whole outfit is from the store. I get a discount.” She twirled to show off the flow of the brightly flowered skirt and the green lace slip beneath. A simple cotton top was dressed up by a heavily fringed green shawl. Its tassels swung and bounced every time Madlyn moved.

  Vicky sank onto a wooden kitchen chair as Madlyn turned on lights. “The house is delightful. So bright and fresh. Did your parents restore it themselves? It all looks so new compared to when we were kids.”

  “Yes. Daddy worked for years, whipping it into shape. When he retired, he said he wanted to travel. He was tired of looking at these walls. So off they went. I think they’re somewhere in Greece at the moment. They had me move in to take care of the place. It’s a great help to me financially. I want to save my money and open my own shop someday.”

  Vicky listened and nodded, but her eyes glazed over near the end of Madlyn’s explanation.

  Madlyn filled a tea pot and set it on the stove. “You need a shower and a cup of tea,” she said. “Have you eaten?”

  “Do you mean, ever? Or just today?”

  “I’ll fix you something to eat while you freshen up. Come on, I’ll show you your room and give you some clothes.”

  “Thanks, Madz.”

  Madlyn laughed with delight. “No one has called me that since you left Eagle’s Toe.”

  An hour later Vicky decided she just might survive her trip, her homelessness and her villainous ex. She sat back in her chair and sighed with pleasure. “Strawberry shortcake and tea is the perfect dinner. Where did you find strawberries this time of year?”

  “Mom’s freezer. They grew them in the garden.”

  “Unbelievable.” Vicky blinked at her empty plate. “Do you think anyone would notice if we buried Darius out there?”

  Madlyn leaned across the table and squeezed Vicky’s hand. “There will be other competitions, right? I mean, just because he ruined this one for you….” She let it trail off.

  “There are plenty. Hundreds in the U.S. alone. But it costs a lot of money to enter. I’ve done five since college graduation. A hundred and fifty dollars for the entry fee, plus the time and money involved in preparing the recording for submission. And if you qualify, you have to pay your own expenses to get to the finals, airfare, hotel, meals, everything. It adds up. The J and T Piano Competition was in San Francisco so I wouldn’t have to pay for all those extra expenses. Making the finals there was such a thrill. Until Darius destroyed my life. I’m broke and no longer engaged, and I was so upset I couldn’t compete. I had such high hopes for this competition.”

  “Is part of the prize a job?”

  “Not exactly. It’s a concert date at Carnegie Hall, and most likely the launching of a concert career. And a check for five thousand dollars.”

  Madlyn’s freckled brow furrowed. “I remember back in high school, every time you played for assemblies, you’d throw up in the girl’s room first. How’d you get over your stage fright?”

  “I never did,” Vicky said bleakly. “I still throw up before every competition. I just hate being judged, all alone on the stage. It’s like the weight of the world sits on your shoulders.”

  “No offense, but why are you still trying to do something that makes you miserable? Don’t concert pianists sit alone in a spotlight on stage and play in front of total strangers?”

  “Gee, when you put it that way, I might lose my dinner.” Vicky waved her weak joke away. “My mother and stepfather took out a second mortgage on their home and sent me off to the best teachers in the country. Two different schools. Wherever the most highly acclaimed piano teachers were working, that’s where I went. It’s my mother’s dream for me to be a concert pianist.” She played with her napkin, folding it and refolding it as she spoke. “Funny. My very favorite teacher told my mother I didn’t have the personality to be a concert pianist. She said I had great talent, but I should take my music in another direction.”

  “What kind of personality do you need?”

  Vicky made a face. “Ruthless. Cut-throat. Ready to do anything to eliminate the competition. Just like Darius. He certainly ruined my chances, breaking up with me the night before my biggest performance ever.”

  “Don’t worry. As soon as you get a good night’s sleep, we’re going to plot your revenge. Would you like a glass of wine?”

  “I hate wine. It tastes sour.”

  Madlyn got up and opened a kitchen cupboard. A dozen different bottles stood at attention.

  “Madz, do you have a problem I need to know about?”

  “My parents like to entertain.” She selected a vodka, opened the bottle, and poured an inch into a glass. “Want juice with it?”

  “Goodness, yes. I am not a drinker.”

  Madlyn took orange juice out of the refrigerator and topped off the glass. “When your cheeks get numb, we’ll figure out what to do to Darius.”

  “Believe it or not, Darius is the least of my problems.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Even before Jason drove the Jaguar off his grandmother’s estate, he knew he shouldn’t have spoken so hastily. But the whole idea that she would try to make such an important decision for his life just rankled.

  He drove straight to the Cattlemen’s Inn and rented a room. Dinner at Il Vaccaro was a pleasant surprise. He’d never experienced the restaurant before. Whenever he returned to Eagle’s Toe for a visit, it was expected that he would stay at his grandmother’s home. He chose a decadent dessert and was pleasantly surprised when a jovial bushy-eyebrowed man with “Owner” on his black ID badge refilled his coffee.

  “Good evening, sir. I’m Reese McAvoy. I own the Cattlemen’s. Are you enjoying your meal?”

  “Yes, it was lovely. Has Il Vaccaro been here long?”

  “A few years.” He eyed Jason curiously. “Forgive me, but you look familiar.”

  “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jason Darby.” He extended a hand.

  Reese shook it and his face lit up with realization. “Of course. You’re Dolores Darby’s grandson. Oh, forgive me, but you look exactly like your father, God rest his soul.”

  “Really?”

>   “Spitting image.”

  Jason’s dessert arrived.

  Reese touched the waitress’s elbow. “Mr. Darby’s dessert is on the house.”

  “No need for that,” said Jason.

  “Please.” Reese held up a hand. “My pleasure. I hope we’ll be seeing a lot of you in the future.” He smiled and moved on.

  Jason took his time over dessert and made a mental note to examine some photos of his father. It never occurred to him that he might look just like his dad. Maybe because Coach Jerry had felt like a father to him and he didn’t look anything like Jerry.

  And his grandmother had no pictures of his parents on her walls.

  A flash of memory came out of nowhere. Jason as a small boy in the foyer being shown the pictures of family and ancestors hanging on the walls. Dust motes dancing in the sunlight. The aroma of cookies baking. Piano music drifting through the house.

  Before his parents died, his life was filled with sunlight and sweetness and music. Afterward, only Aunt Grace and Uncle Jerry brought those things to him. Their love and good cheer made his life bearable. His grandmother couldn’t stand to have him around.

  He stirred sugar into his coffee. Could McAvoy have hit upon the reason? Did he remind his grandmother of what she had lost?

  But that wasn’t enough of a reason to rip a child away from the only home he’d ever known and plunk him down in a boarding school with strangers. And now, fifteen years later she thought she could force him into marrying someone she picked out, just because she was rich. No way.

  Think of all the good you can do with that money.

  He’d promised Jerry he would do whatever he could to gain control of his inheritance.

  He drained his coffee and left a generous tip on the table, along with the price of his meal. He needed to talk to Aunt Grace. She’d know what to do. She always gave great advice.

  Upstairs in his room, Jason turned the television to ESPN, then hit the mute button. He stacked pillows on the bed and stretched out with his phone to call Grace.

  Her voice startled him. She sounded old and tired.

  “Aunt Grace? How are you doing?”

  “Jason, dear. It’s so good to hear your voice. I’m as fine as one can be, under the circumstances.”

  She did sound better once she heard it was him. Jason felt reassured.

  “I called for some advice from the one person I know I can count on.”

  “Well, you’ll have to settle for me, now that Jerry’s gone.”

  “You and I both know a lot of the Coach’s advice really came from you.”

  “That is so sweet, dear. What can I help you with?”

  Jason explained what had happened at his grandmother’s house.

  “My goodness,” said Grace. “I guess we have to hand it to her. She’s consistent, if nothing else. By the way, I loved your exit line.”

  “Yes. But now what? I promised the Coach I’d do anything necessary to inherit what is rightfully mine.”

  “He’d never want you to marry someone just because your grandmother says so.”

  “But I snapped back that I’d bring my fiancée to her stupid party.”

  “That part is easy,” said Grace. “Hire someone to play your fiancée.”

  “You mean, try to fool my grandmother?”

  “You won’t be deceiving anyone if you draw up a contract of employment and offer a period of marriage to some needy girl. It would be totally above board, and you would be in control of the whole process. I remember those lawyers of yours, how quick and efficient they were when you had that little fender bender a couple of years ago.”

  Jason grinned. “I was seventeen, Grace. That was more than a couple of years ago.”

  “Time flies, doesn’t it? Well, call them and set something up.”

  “But who would I ask? What woman would ever say yes to such an arrangement?”

  “Spoken like a young man with an allowance of half a million a year,” said Grace gently. “I’m sure you can find a candidate to fill the bill. The world is a big, scary place if you’re a young woman with no resources. Just be sure to include an assurance that any physical contact has to be her idea. You don’t want her thinking you’ll jump her bones if she takes the job.”

  “Aunt Grace, you are a genius.” He smiled at her bluntness.

  Grace’s voice grew sad. “If I’d been a genius, I would have come up with cure for your Uncle Jerry. I’m just an old woman who can remember being young and desperate and ready to try anything. I was just lucky that I ran into your uncle before I did anything I’d regret.”

  “Love you, Aunt Grace.” He hung up, then flicked through his contacts and tapped on his lawyer’s number. He had to leave a message, but didn’t mind. It was late, and he’d driven fourteen hours today. Time to sleep.

  He dreamed about emerald green eyes and cookies and piano music and dust motes that turned into dancing fairies and went sailing on a bright ocean. Then a storm came and tossed them about on the waves. His mother’s face appeared before him, and he threw her a cookie that turned into a life jacket.

  Hadn’t they been wearing life jackets?

  That question woke him up, just as his cell phone rang. Bleary eyed, he mumbled, “Hello?”

  “Mr. Darby? This is Mrs. Johnson, your grandmother’s cook. There’s a man here from the airline with a suitcase. He said you asked to have it delivered here.”

  “Oh, yes. I’ll come pick it up.”

  “Thank you. I—” The woman hesitated as if she had more to say.

  “Is there something else?”

  Her voice sounded sad. “No. That’s all. I’m glad you’re home.” She hung up.

  Jason shrugged and ended the call. He’d forgotten all about Vicky’s suitcase.

  He rolled out of bed and noticed the message light flashing on the hotel phone. He checked the message. “A message for Jason Darby. There is a fax waiting for you at the front desk. Thank you for staying at the Cattlemen’s Inn.”

  Good. His lawyers had come through with a preliminary document, just as he’d requested. He’d pick it up on his way to deliver Vicky’s suitcase. The memory of Vicky’s perky nose and plucky attitude made him smile. And those long, elegant fingers. Even behind her dark glasses, she was the loveliest woman he’d met in a very long time. Her emerald green eyes had floated through his dreams. What had she said in the car? “No suitcase, no clothes, no boyfriend. And now I’m officially homeless.”

  He was suddenly wide awake. “Aunt Gracie would agree that she qualifies in the desperate department,” he announced to the room. “Let’s go see if she’s ready to try anything.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Tuesday, October 22

  Vicky’s eyes popped open at five a.m., just as they did every day. It took her a moment to remember where she was. Then the body blows of the previous week dropped on top of her like lead weights. Darius’s betrayal. Missing the competition. Getting the phone call from her landlord unceremoniously ripping her rented room out from under her. Pay the rent late a few times and suddenly he’s crying “breach of your lease.”

  She sighed dismally. The bedroom was dark except for the red LED of the little clock radio on the nightstand. She didn’t know how early Madlyn got up, but she suspected she was an early riser as well, since she had a job. Vicky listened carefully but didn’t hear any tell tale signs of movement in the house. It wouldn’t be very courteous to wake her hostess up.

  But she couldn’t just lie there in bed doing nothing. She’d lost an entire day of practice to travel. She got up and tiptoed to the bathroom. She was grateful for the flannel jammies that Madz had found for her, and for the fuzzy slippers, too. The house was chilly in the morning. As quietly as she could, she returned to her room.

  It only took her five minutes to get her keyboard out of its case and on its metal stand. She plugged in the headphones so her playing wouldn’t disturb Madlyn. She knew her collection of music books would be safe until she could
return for them. Mr. Armand had told her any of her personal belongings would be carefully packed. He’d always been sweet to her, prior to the eviction. Sadness washed over her as she realized that music books and her piano bench were her only personal possessions. Her suitcase held her black and white wardrobe, and she’d brought her keyboard with her. After a lifetime of preparing for the level of competition necessary to launch a career as a concert pianist, she had nothing to show for it.

  No, not true, she thought. I have strong and talented fingers, and I have my keyboard.

  Still, those assets did little to alleviate her sadness. She turned the keyboard on, pulled the vanity bench close, settled the headphones on her ears and began her warm-up exercises.

  Thirty minutes later, she began playing through her competition repertoire.

  At six-thirty, she heard a knock at her door. Before she could get up, it opened and Madlyn came in with a large mug of coffee. Her face lit up at the sight of the keyboard.

  “Hey! I didn’t hear any music.”

  “Headphones.” Vicky smiled and accepted the coffee. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “Well, I am awake and I have to get in the shower. But take the headphones out of the jack and play for me while I get ready for work, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Vicky turned back to the keyboard and launched into another recital piece. She lost herself in the music, and it seemed like no time at all had passed when she felt Madlyn’s hand on her shoulder.

  “Too loud?”

  “Not at all.” Madlyn was dressed in flowing gold pants and a multileveled blouse with tucks and ruffles and a rainbow of colors. She wore gold pumps with low heels. “I wanted to turn you loose on my closet. I know your tastes run a bit more conservative than mine, but we’re close to the same size. There should be some jeans and a couple of tops that you wouldn’t be too embarrassed to wear.”