Green Card

by Elizabeth Adams

  “Usually herbal or something fruity. I love orange spice. Oh, this will be good to know! Laura, you met her as my lawyer but she’s really an old childhood friend, turned me on to it. She’s horribly allergic to caffeine or something like that, so she drinks herbal tea when everyone else is slogging down pots of black coffee. She’s convinced that’s why her skin looks so good, but that’s not the point. When we were little she was our babysitter. She’s seven years older than me and five older than Jen and she lived on the next farm over. Her dad raises quarter horses. Anyway, when it was the busy season and dad was watching the farm and mom had to mind the store, Laura would come spend the weekend with us. She’d sleep in the guest room and cook all the meals and everything. But she wasn’t so much older that she was like a mom. She was more like a knowledgeable older sister. Anyhow, she would always have a cup of tea in the morning and got me and Jen drinking it with her. I’ve been hooked ever since. But I do love the smell of coffee; it always reminds me of my dad.”

  Will was writing furiously on his paper, his brow furrowed in concentration. He eventually stopped writing and looked up.

  “Favorite color?”

  “To wear or to look at?”

  “Are you always this particular?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You qualify every question.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes. Now: favorite color?”

  “I'm kind of in a blue phase right now, but I also love red and my childhood room was painted yellow and I loved that.”

  “Okay, good information.” He jotted something down. “What about music?”

  “I don't really have a favorite. I like everything except hardcore rap. It's a little violent and too hard to sing along with for me.”

  “Favorite film?”

  “Hmm. Roman Holiday for classic, The English Patient for drama, for comedy, uhh, don't laugh.”

  “What? Why would I laugh? Is it really bad?”

  “Well, it's a little bit bad. But if you want to have a legitimate answer that shows how well you know me, I think I should be honest.”

  “What could be worse than The English Patient?”

  “You don't like The English Patient? What's wrong with you?”

  “Me? It's a total sap-fest! How can you possibly take that film seriously?”

  “It's wonderful and beautiful and romantic! And Ralph Fiennes's voice gives me chills.”

  “Oh, I see. You like it for the eye candy.”

  “Did you just say eye candy? And you think Ralph Fiennes is eye candy?”

  Harper blustered, “I'm not saying that I think he is, but that is clearly what you liked most about the film.”

  “Well, I did enjoy him in it, but if it wasn't a good story I wouldn’t have liked it at all. What about you? What's your favorite movie?”

  “I don't know, really. I liked Citizen Kane.”

  “Really? And you're making fun of my choice?”

  “It's classic!” he defended.

  “Yeah, and the boring choice of every man who wants to sound like he likes classy movies when he really loves American Pie.”

  “American what?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Let's move on. How about perfume. What do you wear?”

  “Allure and Gucci. You?”

  “I had one I liked by Davidoff, but it's been discontinued. Jackie bought me something by Armani and it's all right, but not my favorite.”

  “Do you prefer showers or baths?” she asked.

  “Baths. You?”

  “Depends on my mood, but I usually take showers. I know, it's very American of me.”

  He smiled and looked at the list of questions in his lap. “What was your first job?”

  “I worked for my dad on the farm, selling trees during the season and running the cash register in the gift shop with my mom. But my first real job outside the family would have been babysitting for the Beckers. Those kids were terrible! It was enough to make me never want to procreate!”

  “Really? So you don't want children?”

  “Oh, I don't know. Probably someday. Definitely not any time soon. I want to get certain things in my life squared away before I do.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, for one thing I want to finish my masters. Then I'd like to work for a little while and get at least semi-established before jumping on the mommy track.”

  “So do you think you would quit your job to take care of your children—if you had them?”

  “I don't know. Maybe in the beginning. Everybody I know who has them says it's great to be home with them early on. But then you get restless, or that’s what my friends with kids say, and I don’t know if I could just walk away from work, so I’d have to see. Sometimes I think I’d be perfectly happy just being the fun aunt and never having any. What about you? Do you want kids?”

  “Yes, I mean, I suppose I do. Doesn't everyone? Obviously, it's less of an issue for me since I wouldn't be the one carrying them, but I've always thought I would have them; at some point anyway.”

  “How old are you again?”

  “Thirty-two. And you're twenty-three right?”

  “Yeah. So I've got plenty of time before I become a baby factory.”

  He laughed. “Do you like ice cream?”

  “Yes, I love it, but don't ask me my favorite flavor because it changes weekly!”

  “Actually, I wasn't asking for the notes. I was going to get some and thought you might like some.”

  “Oh! Sorry. Yeah, I'd love some. What flavor?”

  “Mint chocolate chip.”

  “Ooh, that's my favorite!”

  “This week?” he asked as he walked toward the kitchen.

  “Haha. Point taken, Mr. Harper. Now bring me some ice cream!” she called playfully.

  “As you wish, Your Highness,” he called from the kitchen.

  She laughed and followed him to the freezer.

  ***

  “So what are you up to today?” Laura asked as Liz slid into the chair across from her in the corner of a small coffee shop Thursday afternoon.

  “I’m packing up my old apartment. And I aced my last exam!”

  “That's great!”

  “And I've been setting up my back-up plan.”

  “Sounds intriguing. Tell me more.” Laura leaned across the table.

  “I opened a new savings account this morning—in my name only. As you know, William and I will have a joint account now—which I still find bizarre—but I wanted my own savings account. So now I have somewhere to put all that money he's giving me.”

  Laura raised her brows. “I'm impressed. I thought I was going to have to coach you on financial independence.”

  “Really?”

  “Rule number one: Trust no one—especially your spouse.”

  “Who better to get marital advice from than a divorce lawyer?” She grinned at her friend, then said quietly, “But really, you know the situation, so of course I am looking out for myself. I mostly trust Andy, but he is Will’s lawyer, not mine. And I barely know Will. So while I'd like to think they would never screw me over, most people who get screwed never see it coming.”

  “So what's your plan?”

  Liz leaned forward and slightly over the small round table. “Well, so far I've opened some interest-earning savings account. I can’t remember what it’s called.” Laura rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I had enough for the minimum balance required and I plan to use my money from the professor for spending and save all my petty cash from Will. If I need to supplement, I can see if some of the stores won't give me cash for returned items. I have no bills—no rent, utilities, groceries, nothing—and I get five grand a month for spending. On what? Taxis? I have cards for everything I need and I'm sure I won't go over the limit.”

  “You might be surprised. You'll be going to a lot of events and those dresses can be expensive. It can add up quickly.”

  “Well, he gave me a big advance fo
r clothes, and of course I have my signing bonus.” Now it was Liz's turn to roll her eyes. “I swear, these people spend money like water. I've never seen so much cash in my life.”

  “Have you learned any more about him yet?” Laura asked with raised brows. Laura knew all about him, of course, but Liz wanted to find out on her own.

  “Like I told you before, I was waiting to give him twenty questions until after the wedding.”

  “Hello! You're married!” Laura said as she raised Liz's left hand and looked pointedly at the ring.

  “I know. We were too busy last week with all the dating and then the wedding stuff. And of course I’ve had exams this week. I’ve spent all my time cramming for tests and polishing final papers. The petition got approved Tuesday, so that’s good. Andrew filed the official application yesterday. Now we’re just waiting for an interview date.”

  “That’s good news. Andrew moves fast.”

  “Yeah, he seems really good at his job.”

  The waitress brought the check and Liz quickly slid a shiny plastic card onto the tray.

  “Ooh, is that your new hardware?”

  “Yup! And I just got this to go with it.”

  Elizabeth held out her new driver's license which read 'Elizabeth B. Harper', just like the credit card she'd lain down.

  “Wow. I always thought you'd hyphenate,” she said thoughtfully.

  “Turns out it's kind of a pain in the butt, not to mention really long when you're signing your name. Besides, it looks more legit that I change it. Isn't that what most women do? Especially those madly in love in whirlwind romances?”

  “I suppose, though some never do.”

  “Yeah, well I'm not some famous actress that doesn't want to lose name recognition. It won't hurt anything to change it. I can just change it back when I'm done.”

  “You make it sound like you're changing clothes.”

  Liz just smiled as the waitress returned the check and she signed her new name.

  “Got your new signature all squared away?”

  “I think so. What do you think?” She held out the newly signed slip of paper.

  “Nice. So how was the wedding? Everything you dreamed it would be?”

  “Yeah, it was great. You know, we actually had a lot of fun. I played a slot machine for the first time and won fifty dollars!” Liz beamed with pride and Laura just laughed.

  “Only you would be excited about winning fifty bucks six days after you married a millionaire.”

  “But I won! That doesn't happen every day!” Laura shook her head and Liz continued, “We had a lot of fun. Jenny and Andy were good to have along and the four of us had a great time.”

  “Did you do any shopping?”

  “Yeah, Saturday Will took me shopping. Of course he was traumatized after the first hour and left me alone with Jenny. I think I have a whole new wardrobe.”

  “Well, you look great.”

  “Thanks!”

  “So when will you be all moved in?”

  “Soon. I don't have to be out until Sunday, so I'll get the rest of my things before then. Will suggested we get a moving company to pack everything, but I was just going to bring over a few boxes. I'll get rid of most of my furniture. It was all cheap hand me down pieces anyway.”

  “Well, you know I'll want to hear all the dirty details next weekend. Right now I've got to run. I’m meeting a client in forty-five minutes.”

  She kissed Liz's cheek and Liz walked out with her, hugging her tightly before she left. “Thanks a lot, Laura. For everything.”

  “Don't thank me. That's what friends are for.”

  *

  Liz wandered slowly through the lower east side neighborhood where she’d lived for three years, remembering the things she thought she would miss and saying a happy goodbye to the things she was glad to leave behind. She walked the five floors up to her old apartment and packed up a few things, mostly old photo albums and pictures and random knick-knacks. Will had someone with a truck coming Friday afternoon to collect whatever she was taking with her. She'd arranged for the Salvation Army to pick up the furniture she no longer wanted earlier in the day.

  Three hours later, she looked around her almost bare apartment. She had packed nearly everything and only a few tidbits remained.

  “You'd think after three years I would've accumulated more stuff,” she said to herself. With a shrug and a sigh, she grabbed her bag and got ready to go to Will's place. “I should probably start thinking of it as home. And I should definitely stop talking to myself. We don't want Will to think we're crazy now, do we?”

  She locked the door and headed uptown.

  *

  Thursday night, Liz and Will sat in the living room eating salads from the neighborhood deli and watching television. She was quiet, thinking about the conversation she’d had earlier that morning. Angie and Sheila were in her morning exam and they couldn’t wait to pounce on her. She even got there a little early to give them time to ask their questions before the test started. They’d been relentless, of course, like she’d expected, and she’d given them the details she thought old Liz would, before she started living a secret life, and tried to act as normal as possible.

  She thought she’d pulled it off pretty well, but one thing was niggling her. Laura had referred to “knowing” about William earlier, and Sheila and Angie had both intimated that they knew all sorts of things about him, especially about his money. She played along like she knew what they were talking about, but really she had no clue. She still hadn’t had time to Google him and she didn’t really want to. She thought half the things on there were likely to be rumors anyway, and why read about someone when you’ve got the real thing right in front of you?

  But still, she didn’t like others knowing something about the man she’d married that she didn’t. And it wouldn’t do to be caught off guard.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course,” he answered. “What’s your question?”

  “How rich are you?”

  “Um, well, I’m… very.”

  “Very?”

  “Yes. Very,” he said succinctly.

  “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

  “What more do you want to know?”

  “How much are you worth?” He made a face and shifted in his seat. “Okay, how about I’ll guess, and you can tell me when I’m getting warmer.”

  “Okay,” he said eventually. Will was comfortable with his wealth, and money had never been an issue for him or for any of his friends. He knew very few people who weren’t wealthy, or at least he didn’t know them well, and he knew Liz was one of those few people. But as he had recently been informed, not everyone was as comfortable as he was. Andrew had warned him not to act like a snob, which he had taken offense to at first, but then had thought better of. He didn’t want Liz to feel uncomfortable, so up to now, he had simply avoided the money topic. She must know he had plenty by the sheer fact of her presence and his ability to pay for her. See, that’s just the sort of thing you should not say out loud! he thought.

  “Ten million,” she said.

  “Are we talking about me personally, or my company? And HarperCo or Taggston as a whole? Because those are very different numbers.”

  “How about just you for now,” she said with a frown. This was more complicated than she’d thought.

  “Including the family trust?”

  “The what?”

  “Some things are in my care, but are not my actual property, or mine alone. Like the apartment I share with my sister, for example.”

  “Oh. How about just what you personally have and could sell without anyone else’s permission, and cash that is yours alone.”

  “Okay. I’ll have to think for a minute.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back as if he was adding numbers in his head.

  Just for fun, Liz did the same. She counted her personal property, which included a nice bicycle back home, the new smart
phone her mother had given her for Christmas, an iPod, and a decent sized collection of books, plus her wardrobe which was now quite nice thanks to Harper. Then she had her bank account which had had about $1200 in it from before she married (and before she paid rent) and the savings account she’d just opened with her signing bonus that had $10,000 in it. Altogether, she figured she was worth around $30,000. She was surprised by this and a little bit proud. Granted, most of that money had come from the man sitting across from her in the last few weeks, but still, she was better off than she’d been before.

  “Okay, I think I’ve got it,” he said when he opened his eyes.

  “Okay, so ten million?”

  “Cold.”

  “Five million?”

  “Colder.”

  “Okay, so more than ten. Twenty million?”

  “Cold.”

  “Fifty?”

  “Less cold.”

  “But not warm?” He gave her a look. “Seventy-five?”

  “Less cold.”

  “Eighty-five?”

  “Still cold.”

  “Ninety-five?” she squeaked.

  “Warmer.”

  She looked at him warily. “You’re worth over a hundred million dollars? Just you? Not your company, just you and your, what, holdings?”

  “Yes, much more. Some of it I inherited through various family members, mostly my father, and some I earned through investments.”

  “Must’ve been a hell of an investment.”

  He chuckled. “My father was great with money. He ran Taggston flawlessly. When I turned sixteen, he gave me a thousand dollars to invest. He taught me how to follow the markets, who to trust and who not to, what made a sound investment. And more than just stocks—companies, people, real estate. It was a very good lesson. That thousand dollars is now worth twenty times that—well, depending on the market.”

  She looked at him incredulously. “Can you teach me to do that?” The question was out before she knew what she was saying, but she didn’t wish it unsaid.

  He looked surprised but answered quickly, “Sure. Of course. I’d be happy to.” He smiled and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Do you have any more questions? It’s probably a good idea for you to know about the various properties and things. That way in case they ever come up in conversation with others, you won’t be blindsided.”