A Marriage of Convenience

by Doreen Owens Malek

  "Too bad this is such a farce," Sharon said, applying her lipstick.

  "You'll get through it," Rosa said firmly. "Just think, it could have been worse. Your mother could have been here."

  Sharon had to smile. Her mother, to everyone's eternal amazement, had met a widower and remarried, moving to Chicago when her husband was transferred to another office of his company. Since she now had a life of her own, she was far less fixated on Sharon, who had told her mother she was taking a California vacation to settle her father's will. Period.

  Sharon added a necklace and a pair of earrings to her ensemble and she was ready.

  "What time is it?" she asked.

  Rosa glanced at her watch. "Eight-forty. Is that all you're going to have for breakfast?"

  "I don't have time for anything else. We have to go.'' She picked up her purse and opened the door. "Wish me luck."

  Rosa nodded, following her out of the bedroom and down the hall.

  Tay rose as Sharon entered the living room. His eyes moved down, taking in her outfit, and up again to her face.

  "You look nice," he said briefly.

  So did he. He was wearing a dark gray-and-blue pinstriped suit with an off white shirt and a navy-and-gray- striped tie. His hair was wet with recent combing and his shoes were polished to a high gloss.

  "Be right back," he said and went to the kitchen. When he returned he was carrying a florist's box.

  "Here," he said, handing it to Sharon.

  She took it, surprised.

  "I thought you should have that," he said, obviously uncomfortable.

  Inside was a small arrangement of irises and carnations.

  "This is the same bouquet I had for my father's wedding," Sharon said in wonderment, lifting the spray out of the tissue paper and holding it to her nose.

  He nodded. "You chose that bouquet before, so I knew you would like it."

  Sharon glanced at Rosa, who raised her brows. He had remembered a detail like that all these years?

  He cleared his throat. ''We'd better get moving," he said.

  "Rosa, why don't you come along?" Sharon asked. "You can stand up for us."

  "No, I can't. I have to pick Pilar up from dance class in an hour," she said. "I'll see you later."

  Tay and Sharon went out to Dan's car, and Rosa looked after them, shaking her head.

  She couldn't bear to witness the sham ceremony. If ever two people belonged together, she thought sadly, they did. Ten years ago they couldn't work it out, but they had a second chance now.

  She wished with all her heart that they would transform this paper marriage into the real thing.

  Dan Philips had been wiser than they knew.

  * * * *

  The drive to the Glendora municipal building was brief, and Tay and Sharon signed the necessary papers in minutes. She had brought her blood test results with her and the license was issued. Two clerks were the witnesses, and afterward their congratulations rang hollowly in Sharon's ears.

  Her expression must have shown what she was thinking, because Tay said as they left, "Not exactly what you had in mind for your wedding, was it?"

  Sharon didn't answer.

  "I'm sorry,'' he said.

  "It's all right," Sharon replied. "I understood what was going to happen when I came out here. It's just that it all seemed so..."

  "Cold?" he suggested.

  "Yes."

  "How about some breakfast? You didn't have any at the house, and I'd like to talk to you about a few things."

  "All right."

  He pulled the car into the lot of a pancake house and parked. Sharon left her flowers on the passenger seat and followed him into the restaurant.

  When they were seated and had ordered, Tay said, "There's a problem you should be aware of in connection with the ranch."

  "What is it?" Sharon asked.

  "A couple of developers, Citrus Farms and Sun City Homes, have been competing to buy it for a while."

  “And you don't want to sell? "

  "Do you?" he countered.

  "How should I know? I just got here, I don't know what's going on. Why do they want it?"

  "The property around here has become very valuable in the last few years. The town is within commuting distance of Los Angeles and the scenery is pretty. The schools are good. The developers have been moving in like a wolf pack circling a lame dog. They want to put subdivisions of tract houses on the ranch land."

  "Tract houses, you mean a bunch of cookie cutter bungalows, all alike?"

  "That's right."

  "My father would have hated that," Sharon said softly.

  "He always refused to sell. The developers started in on me as soon as he died. When they find out about this wedding they're going to be after you, too. They're offering a lot of money."

  “And you still don't want to sell."

  He lifted one shoulder. "This ranch is my life, but you may feel differently. You may want to take the money and go back to Philadelphia. In any case, once we inherit they'll have to deal with us together. One parcel is no good without the other."

  "So you want us to stick together, is that it?"

  "Do you want to see a bunch of stucco bread boxes sit- ting on your dad's place?" he countered,

  "Crawford didn't say anything about this to me," Sharon said as the waitress brought their coffee.

  “He doesn't know.''

  "But you said you had spoken to him."

  "I didn't tell him," Tay replied, taking a sip of his drink.

  "Why didn't you tell me before the wedding?"

  "I didn't want you to change your mind," he said evenly.

  "In other words, you tricked me."

  "How did I trick you?" he replied equably. "The terms of the will would have been the same. I just didn't inform you that there were buyers out there waiting in case you wanted to sell."

  "You should have gone to law school," Sharon muttered, and the trace of a smile flickered across his lips.

  The waitress brought their food, but Sharon had no appetite. She cut her pancakes into little sections and rearranged them on her plate until Tay said, "You really should eat some of that."

  "Now you sound like Rosa.''

  "Rosa's right. You've gotten skinny."

  Sharon stared at him, annoyed. "Haven't you heard that it's chic to be thin?" she demanded, somewhat misleadingly. A desire to be stylish was not the reason for her slenderness. Since learning about the will she hadn't been able to eat much in anticipation of this reunion.

  "Where? In Philadelphia?" He said the word as though it were a disease.

  "Everywhere."

  "You weren't always such a rail," he said, biting into a piece of toast.

  "I was chubby ten years ago.''

  “I didn't think so."

  "Really?" she said, holding his gaze, and he looked away.

  "How did you get the time to come out here?" he asked after she had returned her attention to the decorative placement of her food.

  “I took a leave of absence.''

  “On such short notice?''

  "They owed me several vacations."

  ''You work for the D.A.'s office?''

  "Yes."

  "Prosecuting murder cases."

  "They're not all murders, but the one I just finished was. How did you know?''

  "Crawford told me."

  Charlie Crawford seems to have developed a sudden case of bigmouthitis, Sharon thought. He had babbled quite a few details to Tay, who in return had apparently told him nothing.

  '' Did you win?'' Tay asked.

  "No."

  "Why not?"

  She looked up at him. That sounded like a challenge.

  "It's complicated,'' she said.

  "Try me," he said tightly. "I may surprise you by being able to comprehend more than you think."

  Sharon hesitated. She hadn't meant to insult his intelligence. He was certainly prickly.

  "Well, we wanted a conviction on murder
one, premeditation. That carries the maximum penalty," she explained. "Frankly, I thought the guy deserved it, he seemed to have planned it all and taken his time setting it up. But his lawyer was able to get the charge knocked down to third degree, with a sentence of fifteen to twenty, eligible for parole after five. The defense hit heavily on the defendant's service record and his work history. The guy had an honorable discharge from the navy and had held the same job for ten years, but that didn't convince me he couldn't have killed his girlfriend."

  "He must have convinced the jury."

  Sharon shook her head. "No. He was a poor witness."

  "Then what happened?"

  "The evidence made his girlfriend, the victim, sound like a tramp, and the jurors didn't like what they heard about her. They decided that a tart like that deserved to die, so they weren't going to sentence her boyfriend to death for finally getting fed up with her."

  Tay stared at her, shocked.

  "It's the truth," Sharon said, shrugging. "I tried to control the jury during voir dire...."

  "What's that?"

  "The questioning of prospective jurors, the selection process. The people I liked kept coming up with reasons to be excused from duty, and I was discounting too many possibles. The judge censured me for wasting time, so I wound up with an unbalanced jury. It was bad from the start."

  “Does that happen often?''

  "Too often."

  Tay shook his head. "I'm glad that all I have to worry about is the price of feed and the due date of the next foal.''

  "It isn't always like that," Sharon amended quickly. "There are good moments, too.''

  "Such as?"

  ''When you're able to help someone who really needs it. A couple of months ago I prosecuted a man for attempted murder. He had been abusing his wife and kids, and once he was in the court system all of that came to light. We were able to get his wife into a counseling program and the kids into daycare. The wife is taking classes at night now to become a practical nurse. Once she's able to support herself she won't have to endure mistreatment in order to keep a roof over her head."

  Tay nodded.

  "I wish we could do more, but we do what we can."

  "My mother always wanted to be a nurse," Tay said softly.

  "I didn't know that. She seemed so happy with her horses."

  “She was, but she always regretted the chance she missed when she was a kid. She'd had a scholarship to nursing school, but my grandmother died a few weeks before she was to start and Rae stayed at home to help with her sister. Her father had to work."

  "I miss her around the place," Sharon said quietly. "It's like a ghost town with her and my father both gone."

  "Tell me about it. I would have moved back to the bunkhouse already if it still existed. As it is, there's no place to go. Every available bed is occupied with the increased staff."

  "You've done wonders with the place," Sharon said grudgingly. "I can tell just by looking around that it's very successful."

  “We're doing all right," he said shortly.

  "I saw the new paddock."

  “We needed it. We're stabling more than twice the number of horses we had when you were here. Miguel runs a riding school in the old paddock now."

  Sharon smiled, making a pancake dam to contain a burgeoning river of maple syrup. “Remember when you taught me to ride?"

  He grinned, the first genuine smile she'd seen since she arrived.

  "How could I forget?" he said. "The first time you sat on the horse you fell off into the dirt.''

  “Lightning. He was so old and slow."

  “Lightning was slow when he was a year old. He lived to be twenty and ate us into hock. Miguel was always talking about putting him down but we both knew we'd never do it. He died in his sleep. After a huge meal, of course." He drained his coffee cup. "Did you keep up with the riding?" he asked.

  Sharon sighed. "I'm ashamed to tell you this, but I haven't been on a horse since I was last in California."

  "I can't believe it," he said. "I never saw anybody who wanted to learn so much.''

  "It did mean a lot to me, and I always appreciated your help. But when I got to school other things became more important. You know how it is."

  He nodded slowly. "Want to do something about it?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "We can go for a ride when we get back. I'll take you around the place, show you the changes."

  "Tay, I'd fall off the horse again, I know it."

  "Nah. Just like riding a bike."

  "I didn't bring riding clothes."

  "I've got some in the house."

  "To fit me?"

  "Sure."

  Sharon tried to think of another objection and couldn't. "You'd better call the paramedics and tell them to be on the alert," she said as he called for the check.

  "You'll be fine."

  "Only if you can resurrect Lightning."

  "I've got another one just as slow."

  "Impossible. What's its name?"

  "Thunderbolt."

  Sharon laughed. "Are you kidding me?"

  "I am not."

  "Who does the baptizing?"

  "Miguel. He thinks that's funny."

  They went back to the car, and on the drive home Tay outlined the changes he'd made in the ranch operation, how he'd streamlined the purchasing and hired new vets to supervise the breeding of the horses. It was clearly a subject he loved, and Sharon just let him talk, wondering how any developer in the world thought he was going to get this man to sell to him.

  When they got back to the house Tay took her to the storage closet next to the garage and said, "There's a box of riding clothes on the floor. See if you can find something to fit you."

  He went to change. Curious, Sharon took the container he had indicated to her room and sifted through it, amazed to discover an assortment of pants and shirts in various sizes, even a couple of leather belts. Where on earth had he gotten this stuff?

  She selected a loose shirt and a pair of pants that were a little too big and cinched them with one of the belts. Tay was waiting for her in the living room when she emerged.

  “Whose clothes are these?'' Sharon asked.

  He shrugged. "Beats me."

  "Tay, is the stuff in that box your bimbo bin?"

  He stared at her.”My what?''

  "Castoffs from your old girlfriends, things they left around that you just didn't bother to return."

  He shook his head. "Sharon, I told you that Miguel runs a riding school now. Sometimes the students leave things behind and don't come back for them. We save everything in there in case they come looking for what they left. That's all."

  Sharon could feel herself flushing. "Oh," she said in a small voice. Why on earth had she made such a big deal about it?

  "There are boys' clothes in there, too," he said gently.

  Sharon looked down at the shirt she was wearing. It had seemed odd when she was dressing; the buttons were on the wrong side.

  "Ready?" he said, looking at her.

  Sharon followed him to the stable, where he led her to a horse that looked almost as phlegmatic as Lightning. He was methodically swatting flies with his tail and surveyed her with exquisite boredom.

  "I take it this is Thunderbolt," she said.

  "Yep."

  "Maybe I could handle something a little more lively," she ventured bravely.

  "You could?" Tay said, looking down at her.

  "I'd like to try."

  "Fine with me." He readied another horse named Melody, and helped Sharon into the saddle. His hands lingered at her waist no longer than necessary and she felt perversely disappointed.

  He followed Sharon out on his own horse and took her on a tour of the ranch, ending at the old paddock where Miguel gave lessons. Sharon had done pretty well riding up until then, but Miguel had neglected to tell Tay that he'd been teaching Melody how to jump. When the horse saw the stanchions, she charged forward through the open gate and ran f
or the jump. Sharon hung on, but she had never jumped an obstacle in her life. When the horse went over, she went down, landing in an undignified heap on the ground.

  Tay pulled up and leaped off his horse while it was still moving. He ran to Sharon's side and took her face in his hands.

  "Are you all right?" he demanded, his expression anxious.

  She nodded. The wind was knocked out of her and she couldn't talk, but otherwise she felt okay.

  "Just stay here," he said. "I have to get the horses."

  She nodded again, and he took off. She watched as he tethered his horse to a tree and then coaxed Melody into the paddock. He locked the gate and left her there, returning to kneel next to Sharon in the grass.

  “How are you doing?"

  "All right," she said breathlessly.

  "I want to get you into the shade," he said. "Can you walk?"

  "Think so."

  He helped her to her feet, but when she tried to put weight on her left foot she cried out in pain.

  "Guess not," she gasped.

  He scooped her up in one smooth movement and carried her to a huge elm that bordered the ranch property. He held her for only a few seconds, but it was enough for all the sense memories of the last time she was in his arms to come rushing back. The sensation was the same, but intensified. Even his smell was familiar. She closed her eyes. Oh, Tay, she thought.

  He knelt and set her on the ground. "Better?" he said. "That sun is awfully hot."

  "This is fine." She looked around her. "I used to picnic under this tree."

  '' Let me see that ankle,'' Tay said.

  He removed her shoe and sock and manipulated the joint. "Hurt?" he said.

  "A little. Not bad."

  "I don't think it's broken," he pronounced, "just sprained. It may bruise, we'd better put some ice on it when we get back."

  She nodded.

  "So," he said, sitting next to her with his back against the tree, "I guess Melody wasn't such a great idea, huh?" His expression was teasing.

  Sharon smiled ruefully. "I didn't know she was trying out for the Olympic equestrian team."

  "Miguel must have been using her in his class. I'll have to talk to him. Apparently she's too undisciplined for that.''

  "Now you tell me."

  "I thought she was all right for you," he said, turning his head to look at her. "She always seemed pretty docile."

  ''I guess she just likes to jump.''