Green Card

by Elizabeth Adams

  “True, but obviously there are some who are just lolly-gagging about.”

  “True. Enough about my sister and her lazy husband. Tell me about you. We've been so busy for the last week that I feel like I don't know much about you.”

  “What would you like to know?” she asked as she stretched out onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

  “You're getting a masters in literature?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What do you think you'll do when you're done?”

  “Well, I had considered writing, but now that I know your opinion on writers, I might change my mind.” She smiled at him slyly.

  He hung his head in mock penitence. “I'm sorry. I'm sure you'd make a wonderful writer. Just don't put me in any of your work.”

  “You don't want to be immortalized in fiction?”

  “No, thank you!”

  “All right, I won't then. I also thought about teaching. I could teach high school with this degree, or I could go on and get my Ph.D and try to teach at a university. But I've always thought teachers are better when they've lived a little bit away from the academic world. You know what I mean. Like they need to actually see the world before they regurgitate the same ideas as every teacher before them.”

  “So how do you think you'll go about 'living in the world', as you put it?”

  “Well, currently I'm sitting in a fancy hotel room with a rich handsome man. I'd say I was living pretty decently already.” She smiled as she teased him and he was surprised to find himself blushing slightly.

  “You think I'm handsome?”

  “Of course. Don't you?”

  He looked bewildered and she laughed out loud. “I'm teasing you, Will. And yes, you are very handsome, even though you have a tendency to fish for compliments.”

  She had climbed up to his side while she laughed and playfully kissed his nose.

  “What was that for?” he asked.

  “For being so cute.” She kissed him full on the mouth then, warmly, but not deeply, then pulled away. “And that is for being so handsome.” She climbed under the covers while he stared at her with an odd expression. “I'm exhausted. Goodnight, my husband.”

  He leaned over and kissed her smooth cheek. “Goodnight, my wife,” he whispered, utterly confused but with an odd feeling of contentment, like everything would be all right in the end. If he’d believed in that sort of thing, he might have said he had a gut feeling.

  11

  Week One

  Early May, Monday

  Married 3 Days

  Harper Married!!!

  By Priscilla Jennings

  Liz, I bow at your feet. Please, teach me your ways! Ms. Barrett has done what no woman before her has managed to do. Not only did she win the heart of the elusive Mr. Harper AND get him to propose in record time (and with Harry Winston), but he then whisked her away to Vegas to celebrate and the little bitch (and I mean that in the nicest of ways) actually MARRIED HIM there! Yes, your eyes are not playing tricks on you. William Harper is MARRIED. Off the market. Gone. Finito. Done. Signed, sealed, delivered.

  I'd love to hate her for stealing such a good catch (and for having thighs you can crack ice on), but I can't because she's just so damn nice! Do you know what I found on my desk this morning? It would seem that Legs read my column last Friday and took it upon herself to send me that fabulous dress she was wearing in sapphire blue. Now that's classy.

  Elizabeth Barrett Harper, you have the Page 6 seal of approval.

  Harper set the paper down on his nightstand and took off his reading glasses. He ran his hand through his hair and yawned tiredly. Well, it certainly looked like Liz had been the right choice. The media loved her and she was making all the right moves. Hell, she's better at this than I am and I've been doing it my entire life.

  He heard a clanking sound and got up to investigate. Harper pulled a robe on over his pajama pants and padded down the hall. He followed the light spilling out of the kitchen and entered to find Liz digging through a cupboard.

  “Looking for something?”

  Liz jumped. “Don’t you make any noise when you walk?”

  “Sorry.”

  “I’m looking for a pan.” She reached into two more cabinets and finally found what she was looking for.

  “Are you going to make something?”

  “Grilled cheese. You want one?”

  He looked at the clock. “Isn’t it a little late? It’s after midnight.”

  “I know, but I’m starving.”

  He watched her set the pan on the stove and turn up the fire. She pulled a loaf of bread and a package of cheese out of a sack that was sitting on the counter.

  “Did you go to the store? You don’t have to do that. You can leave a list for the housekeeper.”

  “I know, but she doesn’t come until tomorrow and I’m hungry tonight.” She smiled as she buttered a slice of bread and put it in the pan, carefully placing three slices of cheese over it and covering it with another slice of bread. “You in or out?”

  “In. Beer?”

  “Sure.”

  He took two beers from the fridge and popped them open while Liz expertly flipped the sandwich in the pan and got to work buttering more bread.

  “How was your day?” she asked distractedly as she threw the wax paper from the cheese into the trash and searched the upper cabinets for plates.

  “Fine. I changed the time stamps on those emails you sent me. Very creative, by the way.”

  “I was pretty bored on the plane.”

  “You made a good move with that column writer. She wrote about it today.”

  “Did she? I haven’t had a chance to look.”

  “Yes, she seems to like you.”

  “I hope it doesn’t bite me in the ass by making us more interesting to the press.”

  “Nah, the story will die down soon enough, especially now that the wedding is over. Some salacious gossip will usurp us and no one will even remember our names. And a little goodwill never hurts.”

  “I hope so. Here you go.” She passed him a plate with a steaming sandwich on it and sat herself on a barstool at the island in the middle of the kitchen. “Be careful, it’s hot in the middle.”

  “This is really good,” Harper said after a bite that he washed down with beer.

  “Thanks. The trick is the different kinds of cheese you use. The more variety the better.”

  “Hmm. So how was your day? Do anything interesting?”

  “It was good, not particularly interesting. I spent the morning polishing up my paper that I have to turn in tomorrow. Thankfully that’s done. Then I had a study group for the exam tomorrow. We quizzed each other and drank too much coffee, the usual. I feel pretty ready.”

  “Is this the last one?”

  “No, I have this one tomorrow, I have to turn in my paper to my professor, and I have one last exam Thursday. I’ve done really well in that class, though, so I think I’ll be all right. I already turned in a big project last week.”

  “What was your project on?”

  “Using literature to teach young learners.”

  “Are you studying education?”

  “No, this class was one elective of several. I thought it would be useful if I ever decided to pursue teaching. And it sounded interesting.”

  “Hmm.” He nodded and kept eating.

  “I’m really glad we don’t have any evening plans this week. With all the last minute finals stuff, I don’t know how I would have handled it.”

  “Yes, thankfully people will expect us to take a little time for ourselves. It will give us time to get sorted. When do you finish work?”

  “I finished tutoring last week. I don’t usually do it the week of finals and the students all have finals, too, so I’m done for the summer. I’ll just need to send everyone an email telling them I won’t be picking back up in the fall.” He nodded. “I took the dogs this afternoon and have to take them twice more before Friday, and I’m done.”
>
  “Don’t dogs need to be walked every day?”

  “Yes, but I work for an agency. There are several of us designated for each family and we walk on rotation. I had already requested a light week because of finals, which is why I’m only walking three times this week. Normally I would do three mornings and three afternoon/early evenings. I also took a lot of weekends.”

  He nodded his head thoughtfully. “Are they requiring a long notice?”

  “Not really. I told them I could give them two weeks, but she said Friday was fine. A couple of the other walkers want to up their hours during the summer, so this worked out perfectly.”

  “Right. Well, thank you for the sandwich,” he said as he stood.

  “You’re welcome. Goodnight, Will.”

  He left the room and she looked at the plate he’d left on the counter next to the empty beer bottle.

  She sighed and put the plates in the dishwasher, rinsed the empty beer bottles and put them in the recycling bin, and washed the pan by hand before drying it and placing it in the cabinet.

  She filled herself a glass of water, turned off the lights and headed to bed.

  ***

  Will walked in to the kitchen Tuesday evening to find Liz sitting at the counter and reading a textbook.

  “How did the exam go?”

  “Well, I think. I turned in my paper on time. Just one more to go!” She looked excited but weary. There were circles under her eyes and she clearly hadn’t spent any time on her appearance. Her face was bare of makeup and her hair was in a simple braid down her back.

  “I’m starving. I was thinking of ordering Indian food. I know you need to study and I don’t want to go out by myself. It would look odd.”

  “Yeah, no, I understand. I’m sorry to mess up your evening. Indian food sounds great. I need to take a break anyway. I think my brain has officially turned to mush.”

  “Great.” He pulled a menu from a drawer and placed their orders and soon they were piling plates with saffron rice and curry and settling in to the island.

  “I am so looking forward to the semester being over!” she said dramatically.

  “I can imagine. I’m glad my university days are behind me. How much more do you have?”

  “Well, I technically have two full semesters, but my advisor has suggested an internship for the last semester, and I’d have to take one class in addition to that for the hours. But if I do that, I’ll have an extra large load this fall. I won’t really be working, which makes it easier, but I’m getting the feeling that we’ll stay pretty busy. How full is the fall usually for you?”

  “It depends. September is generally pretty quiet, though August usually has a lot of social obligations: weddings, parties, that sort of thing, but I guess it makes up for July being so slow. Most everyone spends the weekends in the Hamptons, and it’s too hot to do anything in the city. October has the usual charity galas. Then holiday season comes and December is always crazy.”

  “So September is light, October and November are… moderate?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’d say so.”

  “Okay, so maybe I should take some summer classes. There are two that I’m interested in. They’re six weeks long, two hours every morning. Each.”

  “Ouch. Five days a week?”

  “Four. I guess that’s something. But you know, if summer is light on social obligations and I’m not working, I could handle it. Then my fall courses could be lighter. Eighteen hours is a lot to carry—six professors to please, six books and assignments and schedules to keep up with. If I do two now, I’ll only have four classes. I could even do five and not take one with my internship. That seems a lot more reasonable.”

  “How many classes do you generally take each semester?”

  “Five is the norm, though I did take six for two very memorable semesters. Four would feel like a vacation!”

  “When do the summer classes start?”

  “The end of May. They end the tenth of July or something like that.”

  “That sounds like a good plan. It would give you three weeks off now to relax and get settled in. You could take the classes, and then you’d have over a month before the next semester begins. Since you have three day weekends, we could go to the beach house to get out of the heat.”

  She was nodding and chewing absently while she thought it all through.

  He continued, “I wanted to ask you, what do you think about going to the shore for a few days? I imagine you could use a break, I know I could. We could say we’re taking a bit of a honeymoon and get out of the city… Maybe next week, after you’re finished with work and exams?”

  She turned to face him, suddenly giving him her full attention. Why does he look so nervous?

  “It’s been a really busy time at work and with this immigration debacle—”

  “Will,” Liz interrupted, “I understand. You’ve been under a lot of strain. We both have. A vacation is definitely due. I’d love to go to the beach.”

  He looked relieved. He wasn’t used to checking his plans with anyone. He certainly wasn’t in the habit of admitting his exhaustion and need for escape. In the past, he would have simply told the office he would be out for a few days and gone wherever he wanted. Now, he had to take her with him, especially this close to their wedding. It would look ridiculous if he left her in the city alone while he went to the Hamptons by himself. Still, even though he knew all of this and could admit that his reticence was slightly ridiculous, he was made very uncomfortable by the entire conversation.

  “Do you want to just make the plans and let me know when? I’m totally free after Friday,” she asked.

  “Yes, I’ll do that.”

  “Okay, back to studying for me!” Liz said cheerfully. She put her plate in the dishwasher and placed the leftovers in the fridge and the empty containers into the trash.

  “I’ll leave you to it.” Will nodded and went into the living room. She heard the sound of the television a few minutes later. Looking over to where he was sitting, she saw his plate was still there, along with a soiled napkin, a fork, a large spoon and several crumbs and spots of orange curry on the countertop.

  Is this a rich thing or a man thing? she wondered. She put his plate in the sink but didn’t wash it and wiped the countertop down so she’d have her study spot back, and then sat down to continue reading.

  ***

  “Hi, Will! How was your day?” Liz asked cheerfully when Will came home Wednesday evening.

  “You’re in a good mood. I expected to find you hunched over a book.” He walked into the kitchen and set the bag he was carrying on the counter.

  “I was. I’ve been studying almost all day and it’s time to quit cramming. If I don’t know it by now, I’m not going to.”

  “I picked up Chinese. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a little bit of everything.”

  “Mmm! Smells great!” She quickly grabbed two plates and a couple of forks. “What do you want to drink?”

  “I’ll just have a beer.”

  They settled onto the sofa in the living room, food spread over the cocktail table, and happily started eating.

  “I know you’ve been studying all week, but do you think you’re up for a little more?” Harper asked.

  She looked at him warily. “What do you mean?”

  “We should start working on these.” He held up the questionnaires Andrew had printed off for them. They had questions like “Which side of the bed do you sleep on?” and “Does your partner snore?”

  “Sure, I think I can handle that.”

  They started simply, answering basic questions about childhood and education. Liz was doing most of the asking and scribbling furiously in her notebook.

  “Okay, let me get this straight. You were born in London, but grew up between there and your country home in Somerset and traveled a lot with your parents.”

  “That's right.”

  “Your parents were James and Cynthia, both died when you were in
your twenties,” she grimaced and looked at him but his face was blank, “and your little sister is Jacqueline, and she's six years younger than you.”

  “Seven years younger, but yes to everything else.”

  Liz scratched something down in her notebook. “You went to boarding school when you were eight and Eton when you were thirteen years old and Andrew Jamison was your best childhood friend.”

  “Yes, but I didn't meet him until I got to Eton.”

  “Right,” she said as she made a quick note on her paper.

  “You know, these are the sort of questions anyone can find an answer to on Google. I think we should focus on the more personal details. At least that's what Andrew suggested.”

  “What kind of personal details?”

  “Things like what shampoo we use and what our favorite foods are.”

  “Okay,” she replied, dragging out the word. “You want to start?”

  “Sure. What shampoo do you use?”

  “Nexxus usually, Herbal Essence when I want it to smell good.”

  He gave her a confused look. “Um, what's your favorite food?”

  “It depends on the type. Italian, Thai, Indian...”

  He made a face. “Okay, if you were on a desert island for a month and could only eat three different foods, what would they be?”

  She screwed her face up in thought, then answered, “Lemon salad, pad Thai, and tiramisu.”

  He raised his eyebrows and looked at her incredulously. “That's quite a selection. And what is lemon salad?”

  “It's a salad I make with a lemon dressing. I'll make it for you sometime. You'll like it.”

  “You cook?”

  “Of course. I'm southern and my mother is VERY southern, which means I definitely cook. So does Jenny. It's the most useful thing our mother ever taught us.”

  He nodded. “Tea or coffee?”

  “Usually tea in the morning, I don’t really like the caffeine rush. But I do coffee during finals and when I’m with my dad. He drinks a pot a day.”

  “Interesting. Early Grey? English Breakfast? Herbal?”