AN INDECENT MARRIAGE
Doreen Owens Malek
Originally Published as
BRIGHT RIVER
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Published by
Gypsy Autumn Publications
P.O. Box 383 • Yardley, PA 19067
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Copyright 1987 and 2012
By Doreen Owens Malek
www.doreenowensmalek.com
The author asserts the moral right to
be identified as the author of this work
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher.
First printing April 1987
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
Jack Chabrol entered the room.
Jessica’s first thought was that he hadn’t changed at all. Tall and powerfully built, he still gave the impression of dwarfing those around him. His black hair was cut shorter than he had worn it then. The light brown eyes were still heavily lashed, direct, and had an unusual amber cast.
The features hadn’t changed: the bold straight nose, the finely molded mouth with its full, sensual lower lip, and the cleft chin of his Norman ancestors. He was still handsome, still overwhelming—still, indisputably, Jack.
The lawyer stepped forward to introduce them.
“Miss Portman and I are already acquainted. We were at school together,” Jack said coolly, his expression revealing nothing.
Jessica had no recourse but to shake his hand, which she did briefly. His eyes betrayed him, flickering at her touch. She stepped back, thinking how their positions had reversed since they’d last met and hoping he could not hear the blood pounding in her ears.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
About the Author
Recent Releases by Doreen Owens Malek
Chapter 1
Bright River in autumn was a beautiful place. During her absence Jessica Portman had often remembered its fall glory, and now she was not disappointed by the reality. October filled the sky with brilliant morning sunlight and the lawns and gutters with rainbow bundles of fallen leaves. The trees, shedding amber and russet and gold, were still laden, but Jessica knew that in a few weeks they would be bare and wintry, portents of the cold months to come. The “sere season” was brief in western Massachusetts, short but memorable, a kaleidoscope of color contrasting sharply with the whiteness of the ensuing snow. As Jessica drove her rented car down Main Street, she noticed the changes that the passing of the years had wrought: a brick front on the corner pharmacy, a bakery where the hardware store had once been, new branches of the bank and post office in a tiny mall fronting the road. But despite the additions, there was an air of seediness and disrepair about Bright River that had been absent the last time Jessica was home. She was painfully aware of the reason for the change in the community, because it had also occasioned her return. The Portman mill was failing, and the town was failing with it.
At the intersection, Jessica turned left toward the water onto Walnut Street. She could see the gleaming river in the distance, and the gray bulk of the mill hugging its banks. The office of her father’s lawyer was at the end of the street, and she pulled into the parking lot with a strong sense of foreboding, conscious of the fact that the coming interview would not be pleasant. Her father was gravely ill, deep in debt, and his business was being absorbed by a rival company that had gradually been buying up its shares. The once flourishing mill, now in serious trouble, had been ruined by the competitor buying it, and it was Jessica’s grim task to handle the final transfer. Her father was hospitalized, and her sister was still too young to take an active role in the crisis that had brought Jessica back from her job in Italy.
She locked her car and entered the office through a glass front door. Inside, the carpeting was a different color but Jason Ransom was the same, as gray and groomed as Jessica remembered him. He came out of his office as the young secretary, a clone of the one he’d had ten years earlier, looked up at Jessica inquiringly.
“It’s all right, Laurie, I’ll take care of Miss Portman,” Ransom said warmly, nodding at the young woman and extending his hand to Jessica. He smiled engagingly, displaying the expensive dental work George Portman had partially financed with his account. “How nice to see you after so long, Jessica. You look wonderful,” Ransom went on, as Jessica shook his hand and allowed him to lead her into his paneled sanctum, which was lined with books. “I only wish this meeting was under happier circumstances. How is your father today?”
“Holding his own, they tell me, whatever that means. He’s still in the intensive care unit, and they won’t allow any visitors until he’s well enough to go into a regular room.”
“I see,” Ransom said as he pulled out a chair for her at the conference table and then sat opposite her. “I was hoping for better news. Your father and I are old friends.”
“Yes, Mr. Ransom, I know, and I want to thank you for all the work you’ve done preparing this transaction.”
“I think you’re old enough to call me Jason now,” the lawyer replied, smiling. “And don’t thank me until the deal is made. I doubt if you’ll realize much cash. The outstanding bills were quite a bit worse than I thought.”
“Anything will help. I’m trying to save the house and get together enough for my sister Jean’s tuition next year.”
The lawyer’s expression told her that both tasks would be formidable.
“When will the takeover be complete?” Jessica asked miserably, dreading the answer.
“Very soon,” the lawyer replied. “As you know, JC Enterprises has been undercutting your father’s prices for several years now, importing yarn to keep costs down and then pricing the fabric lower for the wholesalers. At the same time, the company has been buying Portman stock until, at this point, it is about to become the major shareholder.”
“Isn’t there anything at all that can be done?”
Ransom sighed. “What it boils down to is this: either your father accepts the inevitable, bails out and takes what little is left, or he is ruined completely.”
“I see,” Jessica said hopelessly. JC Enterprises had done a very thorough job. “What’s the story with this takeover company?” she asked.
“It’s a diversified firm, into trucking mostly, but with some interests in other areas. It’s owned by a local boy who made good and came back to his old stomping grounds to set up shop. Maybe you’ve heard of him. He used to play pro football. Jack Chabrol.”
Jessica could not prevent her reaction to the name from showing on her face. As the shockwaves receded she heard Ransom saying, “Jessica, are you all right? You’ve gone white, my dear. You look positively ill. Do you want a drink of water?”
He was about to move toward the door when Jessica raised her hand to stop him. It was a moment before she could trust herself to speak.
“I’m fine, Jason, just give me a minute. I felt a bit faint. I guess I shouldn’t have skipped breakfast.” She smiled wanly, trying to dispel his alarm, but the attempt was
n’t terribly successful. The older man continued to hover until she waved him back into his seat. “Go on, Jason, I’m anxious to hear the details. Tell me the rest.”
“Well, it appears that Chabrol has had this move in mind for some while, patiently taking over a little at a time, until now he’s ready to acquire the shares that will make him the major shareholder. This was all sub rosa, nothing’s been leaked about the change of hands. It wasn’t in the papers, you know. I thought it best to handle it privately to spare your family the, uh, embarrassment.”
“I understand,” Jessica said, beginning to regain her equilibrium. “You did the right thing.”
“And as for the workers, well, it wouldn’t be a good idea if the news got out about a new owner while the deal was still pending.”
Jessica folded her trembling hands. “Tell me about Chabrol,” she said calmly.
Ransom raised his brows. “Oh, he went to school here, became a football star, then went to college on a scholarship and was recruited for the pros. He played for about four years until an injury retired him, then he came back to town and started his trucking outfit with the money he’d made. His parents worked in your father’s mill, as a matter of fact.” He stopped and frowned. “He’s about your age. Don’t you remember him?”
“I remember him,” Jessica responded softly. “But he was a little older. We weren’t in the same year. And I left town before I finished high school, if you recall.” Her fingers knotted in her lap, and she swallowed, avoiding the lawyer’s eyes.
“Yes, I do,” Ransom said slowly, his expression thoughtful. Jessica waited, alert to any change in his manner, but he merely picked up a file and began to leaf through it. She expelled her breath noiselessly, rising from her seat. He hadn’t heard any gossip, then, any rumors, or if he had he’d forgotten them. One thing was certain: her father hadn’t taken Ransom into his confidence, or the lawyer would be aware of the situation developing under his nose. Jessica walked to the window at the back of the room, staring out at the glorious day, trying to absorb this unexpected development.
“I have the proposal in writing right here, if you’d care to see it,” Ransom said, rattling a sheet of paper. “It’s not a legally binding contract. I thought you’d like to meet with Chabrol before we drew up the papers. He should be here in a few minutes.”
It was a good thing Jessica’s back was to him, or she would have given the lawyer more cause for concern. She closed her eyes, swaying on her feet, praying for control.
How could this be happening? Within minutes of her arrival, she had learned not only that the takeover company was Jack Chabrol’s, but that its owner was about to appear at any moment. It was like a nightmare.
“I hadn’t expected to see him so soon,” Jessica managed to say after a long moment, remaining at the window, playing for time.
“I thought you wanted to wrap this up as quickly as possible,” Ransom replied, confused. “You said you had to get back to your job.”
Jessica turned to face him apologetically. “Of course, Jason, I’m sorry. It’s just that so much has been happening. Between flying in from Europe, dealing with my father’s illness and handling this crisis, I feel at the center of a whirlwind. It’s a lot to tackle at once.”
Ransom instantly became the concerned protector. “Don’t worry about the deal,” he said soothingly. “Chabrol is ready to move. It’s almost worked out. This won’t be difficult.”
Jessica almost laughed out loud, restraining herself with an effort. Difficult. What a joke.
The intercom on Ransom’s desk buzzed, and he got up to answer it. He pressed a button. “Yes?”
“Mr. Chabrol is here,” the secretary announced.
Jessica felt her heart begin to pound. He was in the office, on the other side of that wall.
“Send him in,” Ransom said, and Jessica braced herself, literally, putting her hand behind her to grasp the windowsill.
The door opened, and Jack Chabrol entered the room. He looked past Ransom as if the lawyer weren’t there, his eyes seeking Jessica’s and holding them. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to.
Jessica’s first thought was that he hadn’t changed at all. Tall and powerfully built, he still gave the impression of dwarfing those around him. His height had been most arresting in the youth she remembered. His black hair was cut shorter than he had worn it, layered from the center in a current style rather than parted on the side. The light brown eyes were still heavily lashed, direct, with an amber cast that distinguished them from ordinary eyes. The features hadn’t changed: the bold, straight nose; the finely molded mouth with its full, sensual lower lip; and the cleft chin of his Norman ancestors. He was still handsome, still overwhelming, still, indisputably, Jack.
He turned his head a little and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. It was a gesture uniquely his, and ten years earlier it had had the power to stop her heart. Jessica discovered, with a sinking feeling of dismay, that it still did. She took a breath, looking her fill. She could now see the fine lines bracketing his eyes and mouth, the assured carriage of his dark head and the authority in his manner. The boy she had known was gone, replaced by this purposeful, enigmatic stranger.
Ransom cleared his throat, obviously wondering what the hell was going on between his two clients, who were staring at each other like combatants in an O’Neill play. Jack glanced at him, as if remembering his presence.
“Ransom,” he said in greeting, and his voice was older, like the rest of him.
The lawyer stepped forward. “Jessica, allow me to introduce ...” he began.
Jack crossed the distance between him and Jessica, extending his hand.
“Miss Portman and I are acquainted. We were at school together,” he said coolly, his expression revealing nothing.
Jessica had no recourse but to shake hands, which she did briefly. His eyes betrayed him, flickering at her touch, but his slight smile was distant, professional.
“You look very well,” he said evenly.
“Thank you. So do you,” Jessica replied, and meant it. Prosperity sat upon his shoulders, and he wore it with aplomb. His navy wool suit was impeccably tailored, obviously expensive, and his light blue oxford shirt looked custom made. His striped tie was silk, his watch was a Rolex and the Bally loafers on his feet shone like shipboard brass. She stepped back, thinking how their positions had reversed since they’d last met and hoping that he could not hear the blood pounding in her ears.
The intercom buzzed again, and they both looked toward it, startled by the intrusion on what was, to them, a private tableau.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the secretary said, “but the messenger from Crowley and Dodd is here. Mr. Dodd thinks the Henley contract is still wrong, and he sent a note...”
Ransom sighed. “I’ll be right out, Laurie. Tell the boy to wait.” He turned to his companions. “Please excuse me. I’ll settle this and be back shortly.”
“Take your time,” Jack said, and Jessica thought she detected an undertone of malice in the pleasantry. She would be left alone with him, and he was looking forward to it.
As Ransom went through the door, Jack turned to her and his eyes raked her, freed of the restraint the lawyer’s presence had imposed. He was unsmiling now, all traces of surface politeness gone. His mouth looked set in granite.
“Hello, Jesse,” he said softly, his tone belying the hard glint in his eyes. It was as if the first greeting had never taken place.
Jessica flinched inwardly. He was coming out of the corner swinging, all right. From childhood, her imperious father had insisted that everyone call her by her full name, and everyone had. Everyone, that is, except Jack. To him, and only him, she had always been Jesse.
“Hello, Jack.”
“You’re as beautiful as ever,” he said finally, after several moments of study. “I wondered if you would be.”
“Were you hoping I had turned into a hag?” Jessica asked lightly, feeling dizzy, as if
on the edge of a precipice.
“I never thought there was much chance of that,” he replied shortly, sounding almost resentful. He had known that God would fail to punish her, and that, like Dorian Gray, she would remain fresh and unmarked while concealing within her a stained and guilty soul.
“But you do seem...upset,” he added smoothly, offering what was surely the understatement of the year.
“I’m worried about my father,” she said shortly.
“Still beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing slightly, “and still a liar.”
So much for the attempt at civilized conversation.
“You have the advantage in this,” she said, looking away from the probing intensity of his gaze. “You were prepared to see me. I didn’t know who JC Enterprises was until this morning.”
“Surely you weren’t surprised?” he asked. The sentence was almost a sneer.
“At first. I knew you were no longer playing football, but I hadn’t realized that you’d returned to town.” She paused. “So you were behind this all along, Jack.”
He faced her down, his expression glacial. “That’s right.”
“You plotted this like a general devising a military campaign.” She paused and then whispered,“Was it really necessary to go this far?”
“I thought so,” he replied tightly.
“No half measures for you. Right, Jack?” she said quietly.
He didn’t answer, and she remembered that about him. He didn’t fight, he didn’t argue, and he didn’t debate. He put up a stony wall of silence when crossed or contradicted, and it could be maddening.
“Now you have your revenge, on my father and me. For the past,” she went on.
He was saved from replying by Ransom’s return. The lawyer began to talk about the details of the sale, and as she listened to Jack’s comments, she realized that his speech had changed. His accent, so pronounced when he was younger, was almost gone, and she missed it. Now he sounded like an English-language news announcer in his native Quebec—lilting, slightly nasal, but no longer really French.
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