[Ladera by the Sea 01] - A Wedding for Christmas

by Marie Ferrarella

  He couldn’t argue with that. “Understood.” Shane glanced around the small suite Richard had given Cris after she’d married Mike. Tastefully furnished to make a person feel at home, it had a queen-size bed on one side and a writing table and love seat on the other. “I’ll take the couch,” he told her.

  “It’s a love seat,” she corrected.

  He shrugged, setting down his suitcase. “Same difference.”

  “Actually, it isn’t,” she explained. “A love seat is smaller.” She regarded his height. He was at least six feet tall if not taller. “Probably too small to accommodate you.”

  Unfazed, he laughed. “That’s okay, I fold up.” He grinned at her. “Don’t look so concerned,” he added. “I can sleep standing up if I have to. The love seat’ll be fine.”

  Another man would have complained about the inconvenience. That he didn’t was just another testament to his strength of character.

  “You are incredibly flexible,” she marveled.

  Her choice of words made him smile. “Comes in handy,” he responded, nodding at the love seat. Shane left his suitcase on the floor beside it. “Okay, I’ve got to get back to work or your father will think that I’ve let pretending to be his son-in-law go to my head and made me a slacker.”

  “Not that my father would ever think that, but if he did, I’d defend you,” she told him, responding in kind to his playful tone. “Hopefully,” she added, a bit more subdued, “you won’t have to suffer like this too long.”

  Shane had a feeling, as he left the room, that Cris and he had entirely different definitions of the word “suffer.”

  * * *

  FOR THE NEXT two weeks, Cris felt she was living each hour of each day in painful limbo.

  Waiting to have this situation with her son resolved was absolutely killing her.

  She had communicated with Wyatt’s lawyer a number of times and found the man’s soft-spoken self-confidence immensely reassuring. To his credit, Travis Kelly seemed exceedingly on top of things.

  So much so that when he told her not to worry, she almost didn’t—the operative word being “almost.”

  But because Cris knew that legal issues were not straightforward, that the wild card in this lawsuit was ultimately the judge she would draw, she did continue to worry. Judges could overrule decisions, go in whatever direction they felt was right—or for that matter, any direction they wanted to go in, citing technicalities.

  All judges, she was well aware, were not created equal, and if she drew one swayed by wealth or impressed with the MacDonalds and their standing in society, she was doomed. Married or not, she was the daughter of an innkeeper and family funds were limited, whereas the MacDonalds could have bought and sold her a hundred times over.

  Some people would be impressed with that. Even judges.

  “Everything will be all right,” Shane told her as he walked into her work area in the kitchen. It was lunchtime and the first wave of guests had come and gone, while the second wave had not gotten started yet.

  She was startled when she heard Shane’s voice. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “That’s because you’re worrying too hard. Don’t,” he told her, feathering his fingertips along her forehead, smoothing out the worry lines. “You’re not going to lose custody of Ricky.”

  Her heart was pounding, and she knew that it had little to do with anxiety at the moment. But she focused on what he said and not on what he’d just caused to happen with his gentle touch.

  “You can’t know that,” she insisted.

  Shane wasn’t about to argue with her—but he wasn’t about to back down, either. “Let’s just say it’s a gut feeling.”

  She fervently wished she could believe him. “What’s your gut’s track record?”

  He pretended to think. “Nine-eight—no, ninety-nine-point-one.”

  “Impressive,” she conceded, although she knew he was pulling her leg to get her to lighten up.

  Shane grew serious. Despite Jorge’s presence in the room, he refrained from lowering his voice as he made a vow. “I won’t let the MacDonalds take Ricky away from you. That’s a promise.”

  Cris forced a smile to her lips, knowing he was the one inconvenienced by all this, the one who had sacrificed normalcy to help her. She couldn’t expect more from him—yet he kept giving more. “What will you do, challenge Mike’s parents to a joust?”

  That wasn’t what he’d meant, but since she’d mentioned it, he pretended to consider a duel on horseback. “That’s an idea. I know I could take MacDonald,” he told her.

  If such a confrontation were possible, she had no doubts that Shane would win within the first three minutes. “Especially since Arthur probably can’t even sit on a horse.”

  “Arthur?” He pretended to look surprised that she would pit him against her former father-in-law. “I was thinking along the lines of fighting the tough one—Marion.”

  Cris laughed then, feeling infinitely better. He kept doing that for her, lightening her mood no matter how dark her thoughts became. Cris was immensely grateful to him for that.

  Gazing at him with appreciation, she said, “Thank you.”

  Her words of gratitude had come out of nowhere. “For?” he asked.

  “For making something unbearable bearable.” She couldn’t put it any better than that, despite knowing in all honesty that there was more to what she was feeling than simply gratitude. With his kindnesses mounting and his efforts to keep her courage up and her faith intact, she was beginning to feel that she was falling in love with Shane.

  Shane wasn’t about to take undue credit, especially since he was only doing the only decent thing. “You’ve got your family’s support.”

  “True, but having you pretend to be my husband, that’s the part that’s going to make a judge decide in my favor.” She looked at him, eyes shining with thankfulness.

  “I’m happy to help,” he told her.

  She was about to say something more to him on the subject, when Stevi burst into the kitchen. She appeared surprised and then pleased to find Shane there.

  “Oh, good, you’re here, too,” Stevi said. “This makes it easier.

  “Makes what easier? What’s up?” Cris asked, becoming immobile with fear.

  “Travis is here,” Stevi told them, then looked at her sister. “The lawyer Wyatt got for you.”

  “I know who Travis is, Stevi,” she snapped, then gazed at her sister, chagrinned. “Sorry.”

  “Apology accepted,” Stevi said, brushing Cris’s words aside.

  Cris was already wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. After tossing it on the worktable, she tried to untie her apron strings. She was so nervous she wound up pulling them into a knot instead.

  “Here, let me,” Shane said, getting behind her. With a few swift movements, he untied the knot, setting her and the apron free.

  “Did he say what he was doing here?” Cris asked. So far, all her communication with the lawyer had been restricted to the telephone.

  Stevi shook her head. “All he said was he had some news and wanted to tell you in person.”

  Hearing that, Cris felt as if her knees had suddenly evaporated. She could barely breathe. “Oh, Lord, did he say how bad it was?”

  Stevi looked a little confused by the question. “He didn’t say it was bad.”

  “They come in person when it’s bad,” Cris said, fear making her sound stilted. She crossed the floor quickly to the swinging kitchen door. “They always come in person.”

  “Who always comes in person?” Shane asked her, trying hard to understand what she was referring to.

  Her eyes appeared haunted as she turned to him. “When they have bad news to tell you, they come in person to soften the blow.”

  He realized then that she
was referring to the chaplain and the marine officer who had come to tell her that her husband had been killed. Cris was reliving the trauma.

  Shane took her hand in his and squeezed it, silently giving her his support. “You don’t know that for a fact. He’s a lawyer. Lawyers are a breed unto themselves. They do things according to their own rules.” He turned to Stevi. “Where is he, Stevi?”

  “He’s waiting for you in Dad’s office,” Stevi answered.

  Shane nodded. “Okay, let’s go,” he said to Cris.

  “You don’t have to come,” she said, the words barely exiting her exceedingly dry mouth. This was her fight, not his.

  “Yeah, I do,” he told her firmly. “Whatever it is, I’m in this with you for the long haul. End of discussion.”

  His words won her undying gratitude. At that moment—and forever.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  TRAVIS ROSE FROM the desk he’d temporarily commandeered as Cris and Shane, along with Stevi, entered the room.

  “I came as soon as I had a chance to check my source and verify the information.” Travis looked from Cris to Shane, scrutinizing their expressions and demeanors. Cris looked as if she was holding her breath, waiting for ghosts to come popping out of the shadows. It told him what he needed to know. “I take it that the two of you haven’t heard yet.”

  “Heard what?” Shane asked the lawyer as they all sat down, Stevi in a chair off to the side, he and Cris facing Travis.

  Shane didn’t know whether to brace himself for Cris’s sake. According to Wyatt, Travis Kelly was a high-powered attorney with a great track record, but it was difficult to picture him that way. For one thing, Travis looked too young to be a high-powered anything. What he did look like was someone who played backup guitar in a band, or maybe even the drummer.

  But brilliant lawyer? Not even the navy designer suit he had on delivered a convincing argument in favor of that.

  Still, Cris seemed happy with the way Travis was handling the case, and in the end, hers was the only opinion that mattered, he reminded himself. He had to remember not to take his role as her “husband” so seriously.

  Rather than answer Shane’s question directly, Travis told them, smiling widely, “You won’t have to worry about Marion and Arthur MacDonald being a threat any longer.”

  “You killed them?” Stevi asked. All eyes turned toward her.

  Since she’d been the one to relay that the lawyer wanted to talk to them, she’d felt entitled to sit in on the meeting and find out firsthand what was going on. That she was also more than just a little attracted to this friend of Wyatt’s had only increased her desire to remain in the room.

  Amused at her out-of-left-field guess, Travis laughed. “Even if I had, Stevi, I couldn’t exactly admit to that, now could I?”

  “No court in the world would have convicted you,” Stevi said with a little more verve than was called for. “Especially not if—”

  “Stevi!” Cris said sharply, reining her sister in before the younger woman got too carried away. “What’s happened?” she asked Travis, turning back to him. “Why aren’t Ricky’s grandparents a threat any longer?”

  “Because currently,” Travis replied, “they have a bigger battle on their hands than taking custody of Ricky from you.”

  “What kind of a battle?” Cris wanted to know.

  Granted, he was drawing this out, Travis thought, but he decided Travis could be forgiven since the matter would have such a good finish. “Staying out of jail.”

  Clearly bewildered, Cris shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she told the lawyer.

  Travis slid forward in the padded office chair, creating an air of shared confidence. “Although undoubtedly a great deal more has yet to come to light, the important points have already been made. The law frowns on insider trading and your former in-laws are guilty of just that—big-time,” he underscored.

  Cris knew that was illegal, but wasn’t it one of those slap-on-the-wrist-don’t-do-it-again crimes? If so, it didn’t really help her in the long run. “But even if they get convicted, they won’t be put in jail forever, will they?”

  “No,” Travis agreed. “Not forever. Just long enough to establish the kind of people they are. Trust me, no family court judge will take custody away from a married mother with a spotless reputation and hand over a child to two ex-convicts, no matter how rich they are,” he promised.

  It sounded almost too good to be true. She was afraid to let her guard down, afraid to allow hope to take over, because the disappointment would just be too devastating if things worked out otherwise.

  So she had to ask. “It’s really over?” The question came out hesitantly, as if actually uttering the words would somehow jinx the whole thing and turn it sour.

  “It’s really over,” Travis assured her in a kind, understanding voice.

  Tears sprang to her eyes as she breathed a huge sigh of relief and cried, “Oh, thank you!”

  Travis laughed softly. “Much as I’d like to take the credit for this and say it was due to my sharp, legal mind coupled with having the cunning of a fox, in all honesty I’m only the messenger in this case. I didn’t twist the MacDonalds’ arms into participating in insider trading—which was most likely not just a one-time event.

  “I might have, of course,” he continued, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips, “encouraged my investigator to share an after-hours drink or two with his close friend who just happened to be a well-known reporter with a prominent newspaper.” Which was why the story was spreading as quickly as it was, condemning the MacDonalds in the court of public opinion. “If you really want to thank someone,” he told Cris, “thank the MacDonalds.”

  “How do you figure that?” Shane asked him.

  The expression on the lawyer’s face said the question was simple enough to answer. “Well, if they didn’t have the colossal egos that they do, thinking themselves not just above the law, but too clever to be caught or even challenged, we might not have cause to celebrate right now.”

  He rose from behind her father’s desk and paused to shake each of their hands. “Congratulations,” he told Cris. “It’s a bouncing five-year-old.”

  It was beginning to sink in. She wouldn’t have to worry. Ricky was safe. “I can’t thank you enough,” Cris said with genuine appreciation.

  “Just enjoy your little boy. That’s thanks enough,” the lawyer told her. Turning toward Stevi, Travis nodded. “Tell Wyatt I’ll see him at the wedding.”

  Stevi’s eyes lit up. “You’re coming to the wedding?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Travis said with sincerity. He took his leave after saying one final thing. “Feel free to call me if you have any further questions, but if I were you, I’d consider this whole matter put to bed—once and for all.”

  Shane looked at Cris. “I guess this qualifies as a Christmas miracle.”

  She wiped away the tears that just refused to stop falling. The release was tremendous. “Works for me,” she told him.

  “Okay if I tell Dad and the others, or do you want to be the one?” Stevi asked her.

  Cris knew Stevi was dying to spread the word. “Go right ahead,” she said. “I’m just going to stand here for a few more minutes and savor this feeling.”

  Nodding, Stevi hurried from the room to inform the others that Ricky was safe now, once and for all.

  Cris was hardly aware her sister had left the room. She was almost numb with relief. But amid the incredible surge of joy, she acknowledged one tiny downside to the news Travis had delivered.

  Shane wouldn’t need to keep up the charade any longer.

  She looked at him now, searching for the right way to say what was on her mind without sounding petty or ungrateful.

  Or greedy.

  She supposed that t
he only way to say it was to say it. She forced a smile to her lips, but she had trouble maintaining it. “I guess this means you’re free.”

  He stared at her, not quite able to follow her thinking. “Free?”

  She nodded. Why was she feeling suddenly sad? Ricky was safe, that was all that mattered. Right? “You don’t have to pretend to be my husband anymore.”

  “Technically, I’m not pretending,” Shane reminded her. “We did get legally married by a justice of the peace.” He drew a breath. Shane didn’t particularly like what he was going to say next. “Which means we’ll have to get legally divorced.”

  She nodded numbly as reluctance took hold of her. She didn’t want to divorce him. But she also knew that, reasonably, she couldn’t be selfish and try to postpone the event by dragging her feet—as much as she really wanted to.

  What was going on with her? Cris silently demanded. The threat was over. She’d won her case. There was no need to pretend anymore.

  “When do you want to do that? Start the process,” she added when he looked at her blankly.

  Never, Shane thought. He realized that something within him had begun to hope that if they remained married long enough, Cris might get used to the idea and, well, perhaps grow to like it—and him—enough to be his wife not just in name, but in fact.

  “Up to you,” he replied. There was no emotion in his voice.

  She paused, gathering her courage. Maybe it was because of her initial exhilaration that she heard herself saying, “Would you mind very much if we waited until after Christmas and Alex’s wedding to file for divorce? It’s only for a week longer and there’s so much going on right now and I’m so busy.” She realized she was talking faster and faster and she forced herself to slow down. The new pace lasted less than half a minute. “But then again, you’ve been so wonderful about all this that I don’t want you to think I’m letting the matter slide or taking advantage of you, even if—”