by Noelle Adams
No matter what his sister said or thought, this marriage wasn’t a big deal. Everything would be fine.
“When do you see her again?” Brie asked in a different tone, when he hadn’t replied.
“I’m heading over to their house right now, just to work out some basic stuff. Then my lawyers can get on with drawing up the contract.”
In the silence, it felt like Brie was shaking her head, but Mitchell managed to ignore it.
He’d always been good with people. And he wouldn’t have any trouble dealing with an eccentric, fortune-hunting old woman and a compliant young woman.
***
“I can’t understand how this stupid room collects so much dust,” Kelly grumbled, running a disposable duster over the surface of an antique console table in their parlour, on which were displayed about fifteen clocks from different eras of the family history. The parlour was the only room in the whole house that had nice furniture and freshly polished trim, so it was always the room used to see company. “Didn’t we just dust it yesterday?”
Deanna shook her head, on her hands and knees, picking up the leaves that had been shed by the potted plant in one corner. “No. I think it was Wednesday, when Reverend Wilson came over.”
She stood up, brushing off her cotton skirt, and went to straighten up the nineteenth century dresses that were hanging on a display rack against one wall. “I guess it looks okay in here. The asshole is going to look down at us anyway, so it doesn’t really matter. Just close the curtains over the Pride. He doesn’t need to see them, for sure.”
Kelly reached over to pull the cord that drew thick velvet curtains across the long shelf on which the stuffed cats were displayed.
Deanna could just imagine Mitchell’s face if he saw the Pride in all their faded, creepy glory.
“Is everything prepared?” her grandmother said, striding into the room unexpectedly with a frown, wearing her best day dress—which was black and almost exactly like her others, except in a more expensive fabric.
“Yes. We straightened up. I don’t think it matters much, though. He needs something from us, so we have the advantage here. Who cares if there’s dust on the furniture or not?”
“All of it matters. This could change our entire fortune. You will be agreeable, won’t you?”
Deanna let out a breath. “I’ll try. But I’m only going to agree to reasonable terms.”
“Naturally.”
There was no “naturally” about it. There was nothing even remotely natural about this situation. But, somehow, Deanna had known something like this would happen eventually, and this was actually better than some of the nightmare marriages she’d imagined her grandmother engineering for her.
Mitchell only needed this to happen for a very limited amount of time. Then they could go their separate ways. And she was pretty sure he would leave her alone for most of their marriage, which certainly wouldn’t have been the case with someone like Morris Alfred Theobald III.
She would absolutely have to say no to a marriage with Morris and completely betray her grandmother in the process.
But this would be better. This might be doable. This might be a way of remaining loyal to her grandmother without completely ruining her life. It would be more like a business arrangement than anything else.
After all, it would only last six or eight months. How bad could something like that be?
The deep resonance of the front doorbell startled her out of the reflections.
He was here. She felt a little jump in her heart.
Her grandmother went to answer the door, and Kelly came over to stand beside her, pushing her glasses up her nose. “This whole thing is insane. You know that, right?”
“I know. But what do you suggest I do?”
“You could say no.”
“Yeah, but she would never get over it. At least he’s better than Morris Alfred Theobald III.”
Kelly snickered and then straightened up as Mitchell and their grandmother entered the room.
He was certainly better looking than her other suitor. Deanna couldn’t deny that.
He looked leisurely and masculine in khakis and a camp shirt. He hadn’t bothered to dress up for them, but this didn’t surprise Deanna. He definitely seemed like the kind of guy who didn’t put himself out more than he had to.
He grinned at her, his smile compelling enough to make her breath hitch just slightly.
She didn’t trust men this good-looking. Maybe it meant she was judgmental, but she just couldn’t believe it was real.
She smiled back, though, since she felt her grandmother’s wary eyes on her face.
They took their seats as her grandmother made a ceremony about pouring the lemonade for everyone.
Mitchell was looking around at the stuffy, dated room and the multiple collections of memorabilia and clearly didn’t have good thoughts about it.
He probably thought the whole lot of them were bizarre anachronisms. Deanna was used to that sort of thing, but it bothered her coming from him.
He was the one who had suddenly announced he was engaged to her. He had no right to judge anyone else’s eccentricities.
She straightened her back and tried to keep a passive expression, but she saw Mitchell watching her and suspected she hadn’t hidden her annoyance well enough.
It didn’t matter. This was his deal. If he wanted to back out of it, he was the one who would be put out the most. Nothing would change about her life except her grandmother would be deeply disappointed.
Mitchell smiled again, as he accepted the glass of lemonade. “Thank you. I know this whole situation is a little odd, but I think it might work out to both of our benefits.”
He was stating the obvious, probably to open up the topic so this meeting wouldn’t last longer than it had to.
That annoyed Deanna too. Her grandmother, as strange as she was, was trying to treat him well, and all he wanted to do was get out of here.
Her grandmother didn’t reply until she’d finished handing the glasses of lemonade to Deanna and Kelly.
To fill the silence, Deanna said, “I understand you want to make the restaurant deal with the Fentons, but marriage seems a pretty dramatic step.”
Mitchell gave a half-shrug. “It’s only dramatic if you care about marriage. I don’t.”
“You don’t care about marriage?” Kelly asked, clearly surprised enough to break through her normal reserve with company.
“No. Why would I care? It’s just something people do because they’ve been told to do it. It’s a silly remnant from history. Why put that kind of pressure on yourself? People should be together when they want to be together—without all the shackles. To me, it’s just a piece of paper, so this arrangement can be purely business. I only commit to temporary relationships anyway. A six-month marriage works just fine for me.”
He couldn’t have said something more likely to offend to the traditional Beauforts if he’d been trying. Maybe he was.
Her grandmother just ignored it, though. The lemonade poured, she took her seat and said in a measured voice, “I am sure we can work out some sort of arrangement. As I said last night, we have been trying to restore this house and have found the funding…difficult.”
Mitchell nodded, obviously understanding the implication. “I would be happy to help with—“ His words broke off as he gave a sudden loud sneeze. “Sorry,” he said, blinking and sniffing afterwards. “I would be happy to help with the work on your house.”
“It is substantial.”
Mitchel nodded. “I can see that. I—“ He sneezed again, this time wiping his eyes. “I’m sorry. Do you have cat?” He looked around the room warily, as if he suspected one was lurking.
Deanna met Kelly’s eyes across the room, both of them thinking of the Pride, sitting silently in a row behind the curtain.
But their grandmother just raised her eyebrows and said coolly, “We no longer have pets in this house.”
“Okay. Probably just polle
n or something.” He picked up the napkin that had been set down for his glass and used it to wipe his eyes and nose. “Anyway, I understand there’s a lot to be done. I can arrange for a contractor to give an estimate and do the work.”
“We would have to agree to it,” Deanna said, thinking it might not be beyond him to arrange some sort of under-the-desk deal with a contractor that would leave them with shoddy work.
He gave her a slightly surprised look that was ruined when he sneezed again.
He was definitely allergic to cats. The Pride must be setting him off.
Deanna was about to suggest they move to a different room—even though the other rooms weren’t as presentable as this one—when Mitchell said, recovering from the sneeze. “Of course. And I’ll have to ensure that only the necessary work is done. Also, I’m not going to mess with all this other clutter.”
She sucked in an indignant breath. The asshole was implying they were going to sneak more money out of him than they had to, as if all he owed them for their side of this ridiculous bargain was the bare minimum of their house. And he must be trying to insult them by referring to her grandmother’s treasures as “clutter.”
She decided not to suggest moving rooms. He could sit in the room with the Pride for a while longer.
He sneezed again, clearly becoming frustrated by the allergy attack. “My lawyers can work out the contract this weekend. Perhaps we can go over the details in a meeting on Monday. The only other thing we need to decide now is how long.”
He was definitely impatient to get out of here.
Feeling a malicious spark that wasn’t at all typical of her, Deanna looked toward her grandmother. “I don’t know. What do you think, Grandmama?”
As she’d expected, the old lady hemmed and hawed for a while. “Good question. There would be various benefits to different timelines. Anywhere from four months to a year might be possible.”
Mitchell sneezed three more times as she talked.
“Maybe…” He sneezed again. “What about…” Another sneeze. “Damn it,” he muttered, standing up and mopping at his face.
He’d turned his back toward them and was inadvertently facing the closed curtain across the Pride’s gallery. “What the hell is wrong…” he muttered, after another sneeze.
“What about six months?” Deanna asked, feeling a little stab of pity, since he seemed so incredibly uncomfortable, suffering from the violence of the allergy attack.
He nodded as he sneezed again. “Good.” Then he sneezed two times in a row, bent over double now, tears streaming from his eyes.
No matter how obnoxious he was, she couldn’t actually let him get ill from this.
“I’m sorry,” she said, standing up and going over to the cord that pulled the curtain. “I just realized what might have triggered the sneezing, if you’re allergic to cats.”
He’d adjusted to face the women, obviously trying to finish the conversation so he could escape, but he turned back around as she pulled the curtain.
Slowly, the row of dead Siamese cats were revealed with their glassy eyes and lifelike expressions.
Mitchell had barely recovered from another sneeze, and he was so taken aback by the unexpected sight that he stumbled backwards, away from the uncanny figures.
He stumbled into a side table and knocked four lamps to the floor, the stained glass shade of one of them shattering at the impact with the hardwood floor.
“Oh dear,” her grandmother murmured, shaking her head and tsking her tongue. “Oh dear.”
Still sneezing, Mitchell gasped, “What…what are those things?”
Kelly choked on a burst of hilarity at his reaction and had to run out of the room to keep from laughing in his face.
Deanna was given no such grace. Desperately trying to keep her amusement hidden, she handed Mitchell another napkin. “I’m so sorry,” she lied, afraid her eyes might be laughing even as her mouth was perfectly sober. “What a mess. Those are my grandmother’s deceased cats. I should have thought of them before and saved you the allergy attack.”
Mitchell’s eyes were streaming, and he was wiping his face, but she couldn’t mistake the cold glare he aimed at her.
He obviously knew she hadn’t forgotten about the Pride. He obviously knew she was laughing at him.
And he didn’t appreciate it at all.
***
That evening, Deanna sat alone on her bed, staring at her phone.
She and Kelly had had a good laugh over poor Mitchell’s response to the Pride earlier that afternoon, but the amusement was only temporary. This was a serious situation. She was willing to go to a certain extent to help her family, and she wasn’t entirely opposed to a marriage-of-convenience if it could be treated like a business arrangement, but she had to be very careful.
The upcoming meeting on Monday about the contract with Mitchell’s lawyers terrified her.
She knew nothing about contracts. Even if she asked for an explanation of every single clause, she could so easily miss things that would later come back and hurt her or her family.
But there was no way they could afford a lawyer of their own—certainly not one that was good enough to be a match for Mitchell’s.
So she’d thought through who she knew and who she could call on for help. They had to keep the real situation of this marriage secret, so she couldn’t ask for help from anyone in Savannah. But she’d had a thought.
She was uncomfortable asking for help like this. She’d always resisted doing so. She’d managed to take care of things on her own.
This was too important, though, so she swallowed her pride and dialed the number.
When a gruff male voice answered, she said, “Hi, Benjamin. Ben. It’s Deanna Beaufort.”
“Hey,” Benjamin Damon said, a smile in his voice. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. How are you? How’s Mandy?”
“We’re both good. How about you?”
“I’m okay. I heard you got engaged.”
“I did. But I don’t think you called me to catch up on the news.”
He’d always been like that—even when they’d dated in high school. He could always cut through to the heart of a conversation.
“No. It is good to talk to you, but I actually called for a favor. I hate to ask, but…but I’m kind of desperate.”
“Sure. What do you need?”
“I need a lawyer.”
There was a pause as he processed this. “Okay. That shouldn’t be a problem. What kind of lawyer? Criminal—“
“No, no. Nothing like that. I need someone who can help me negotiate a really important contract.”
“What kind of contract?”
“I…I don’t think I can tell you that. I’m really sorry. I’m in the strangest sort of situation, and I don’t know what to do. But I’m worried that I’ll be pressured to sign a contract that isn’t good for me, and I need some good legal advice. Do you know someone like that?”
There was now a different sort of smile in Ben’s voice. “Absolutely. Actually, I know someone who’s great at that. He’s in Atlanta this week, if I’m remembering correctly. I can ask if he’ll stop by. When is the meeting?”
“Monday. I know it’s short notice. I don’t want anyone to go out of their way—“
“No, it’s totally fine. I’m sure he’ll do it. He does contract negotiations better than anyone I’ve ever met. He’ll help you.”
Deanna swallowed, touched and overwhelmed and incredibly nervous. “I don’t have much money—“
“That won’t be a problem. He’ll do it as a favor to me.”
“Are you sure, Ben? I hate to take advantage of—“
“You’re the last person in the world I’d suspect of taking advantage of me. Seriously, Deanna. I spent a lot of years with no one daring to ask me any favors at all. Except Mandy, of course. To tell you the truth, it’s nice that you thought I might be willing to help.”
***
On Monday morning,
Deanna sat in the lobby of the Claremont Inn, waiting for her lawyer to arrive. They’d said she could wait in the conference room, but she wanted to have a few words with her lawyer before she went in to face Mitchell and his no-doubt powerful team of attorneys.
She was praying this lawyer Ben knew would be nice. And good at his job.
Surely Ben wouldn’t have recommended a loser.
She’d told her grandmother that she was going to do this alone, since having the old woman there with her would only be a distraction and might bog down negotiations unnecessarily.
Deanna knew what her grandmother wanted. And she knew what she wanted. And she was pretty sure she knew what Mitchell wanted. Hopefully they could work this out without a lot of fuss.
Her lawyer was already seven minutes late. She was holding her breath now, suddenly afraid he couldn’t make it.
She’d be woefully unprepared to negotiate a legal document like this on her own.
When she heard the bellboy greet a newcomer, she turned to look, hoping desperately it was the person she was waiting for.
Then she gasped when she saw who it was.
She’d never seen him in person, but she recognized him from pictures and the news. Of course, she recognized him.
He just wasn’t at all the lawyer she’d expected.
Harrison Damon, Ben’s cousin, was well-known in the business world across two continents. He had a J.D. and an MBA and was the powerhouse negotiator for Damon Enterprises.
He was tall, dark, and as handsome as a movie star in an expensive dark suit. He smiled as he came over to her, obviously knowing who she was.
“Deanna,” he said, reaching to shake her hand. “I’m Harrison. Benjamin’s cousin.”
“I didn’t know he was going to send you. I’m sorry to waste your time on something like this.”
He shrugged off her apology. “I was in Atlanta anyway. We’re opening a new tea house there. This is only a few hours out of my way. It’s no trouble at all.”
“Thank you so much.”
He looked slightly uncomfortable at her profuse gratitude. “No trouble at all. Benjamin never asks for favors, so I’m really pleased I can do it. Now what kind of cash do you have on you?”
