The Notorious Groom

“What about it?”

“She has to get married or she loses her house,” he admitted reluctantly.

“But that’s terrible! Poor Miss Brown! She must feel really awful. Willow Run’s so cool.”

He felt a flicker of surprise. “You’ve been there?”

“Sure. Me and Sarah go visit sometimes. Miss Brown likes us to come. She’s all alone, you know.” She stared at him meaningfully. “Remember how lonely you were before you had me to keep you company?”

Great It wasn’t bad enough that until a few minutes ago he’d been totally ignorant of a significant part of his daughter’s life. Now he was supposed to feel guilty about Norah’s solitary status, too. “Maybe we could get her a kitten,” he murmured.

“Eli!”

“Let it go, Chelse,” he said, starting to get exasperated. “Miss Brown is planning to ask someone else, so there’s no reason to get all worried.”

“But, Eli! I don’t think she’s ever even been on a date. What if she picks somebody awful?”

The specter of Nick Carpetti rose up to haunt him. He pushed it away. “That’s not any of our business.”

“But she’s my friend,” Chelsea said stubbornly. “And you always say that if you want to have a friend, you have to be a friend.” She squared her deceptively dainty shoulders and stood even straighter. “As Miss Brown’s friend, I think we ought to marry her.”

Eli shook his head. “No way.”

“But you always say—”

“Forget it, baby. No matter what I said, I’m not getting married.” He made a vow then and there to keep his mouth shut in the future.

Chelsea gave him a long, indecipherable stare, then slowly transferred her gaze to the floor. “Okay,” she said sadly. In a gesture strikingly similar to Norah’s earlier one, she let her shoulders slump before she turned and began to walk dejectedly away.

“Hey.” He followed as she trudged to the minuscule bedroom. “Where are you going?”

She sighed. “To lie down. I don’t feel very well.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What about the kitten? Don’t you want to call Sarah and give her the good news?”

“I’ll call her later. I don’t feel like it now.”

“Now listen, Chelse—”

“It’s okay. I know you’re only doing what you think is best. But it just wouldn’t be right for me to be happy when poor Miss Brown is going to feel so bad.” Refusing to look at him, she picked up her one surviving teddy bear and curled up on the bed with her back to the door.

Eli’s heart squeezed, even though logic warned that she was playing him like a violin. “Aw, jeez. Come on, baby. It’s not like she’s going to be homeless or something.”

Chelsea shrugged. “I don’t know...she is all alone in the world, you know.”

He was not going to let her make him feel guilty. After all, despite what his daughter seemed to think, he was not some sappy romantic hero who had nothing better to do than marry women to keep them off the street. Not that Norah was in danger of having to live on the street. No way. Although if she was, he supposed he would at least have to consider—

He caught himself. “Forget it,” he said loudly. “It’s not going to work.” I’m not marrying Bunny-Boo Brown and that’s all there is to it.

He sounded so convincing he almost believed it himself.

Two

“Well, my dear, I’m afraid that does it.” Ezra Lampley, the patrician old gentleman who was Norah’s attorney, closed the file on his desk with a look of intense regret. “I’m sorry there’s been no word from Mr. Wilder. You’re certain there’s no one else you might ask?”

Norah shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”

“You looked through the personal column in the Sunday paper as I suggested?”

“Yes.”

“And you looked at your school yearbook, as well as the library cardholder list, and still couldn’t come up with anyone?”

She gave an apologetic shrug. “It’s...a small town.” She saw no reason to mention Nick Carpetti. After all, Mr. Lampley had looked frail ever since his mild heart attack last winter. Why upset him by revealing that her only other candidate was out of the running because his parole had been revoked?

The attorney sat back in his big leather chair, his thin face pensive. “Then we’re truly out of options. Which means,” he said heavily, “that sometime next week, Judge Martin will issue a decree and soon after that, Willow Run will go on the market.” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Norah tried to ignore the hollow feeling in her stomach. “It’s all right. Really. I know you did your best.”

His narrow mouth lifted in a caustic smile. “My best? I don’t know about that. It seems your grandfather has won after all.”

Norah was silent. After a few seconds, though, she hesitantly gave voice to the thought that had been bothering her for weeks. “Perhaps he was right,” she said quietly. “Not that women, in general, are incapable of taking care of themselves,” she hastened to add, “but that I’m not suited for such responsibility—”

“Nonsense.” The attorney wagged his finger at her. “Don’t forget who was really making the decisions the last few years of your grandfather’s life—and who did a fine job of it, I might add. No, my dear. This is merely another example of Arthur’s pigheaded insistence on having his own way, no matter who it hurt. And I, for one, think it’s a damn shame.”

“Yes, but...it is—or was—Grandfather’s property, to do with as he wished. And it’s not as if he’s left me penniless—”

“Hah! A trust. As though you’re a child, instead of a fine, responsible young woman who has turned out far better than the old coot deserved.” Lampley shook his head. “Don’t start making apologies for him, Norah Jane. Not after all the years you took care of him. And don’t sit there and try to make me think you don’t mind losing your home. I know very well you never would have agreed to my idea of an expedient marriage if it didn’t matter to you a great deal”

Norah bit her lip, not bothering to deny it. She did care. Yet she also knew that in his own way, her grandfather had trusted her to do the right thing. He might not have thought she was as competent as a man, but he’d expected her to be as honorable as one.

And up until last week she had been. She’d resisted Mr. Lampley’s advice that she marry now and divorce later. She’d been resigned to losing her home, had even convinced herself that it was probably for the best—until Chelsea’s disclosures about the Wilder finances made her think that a marriage of convenience might be justified if it helped someone other than herself.

Not that it mattered now, she thought with a sigh.

The sound was echoed by Mr. Lampley. Then, as was happening more and more often lately, the attorney’s eyes took on a distant look. “Arthur always was difficult, you know, even when we were boys. Brilliant with money, of course, but so stubborn, so autocratic, so full of himself. He had no talent for people. He got lucky when he married your grandmother, who was a truly exceptional woman. But when he lost her and Clayton and Jeanine in that auto accident, it soured turn for life. He was never the same. And you, dear child, have unfortunately paid the price.”

Norah nodded. She’d heard the tragic tale so often that sometimes it was almost as if she could remember the grandmother and parents who’d died when she was still an infant.

The lawyer suddenly straightened and sent her an apologetic look. “Forgive an old man, my dear. When one gets to be my age, the past sometimes seems more real than the present. And I must say, as much as it galls me to see Arthur win, it’s probably for the best under the circumstances. Despite your assertion to the contrary, Mr. Wilder was hardly a suitable marital candidate. I’m sure I’m not the only one who remembers the uproar over his relationship—” he grimaced with distaste “—with that teacher.”

“Nothing was ever proven,” Norah said earnestly.

Mr. Lampley made a tsking sound. “Need I remind you that both of them left town right after graduation? Proof enough, I should think, of their guilt.”