by Lois Richer
Her eyes widened as she took in the assorted boxes and bowls he was removing from the trunk and laying out on an old quilt he’d spread on the ground. There were all manner of succulent odors emanating from the tinfoil dishes. A tiny smile curved its way across her face hesitantly. She glanced up at him.
“What’s all this?”
Mitch’s face was serious as he replied. “I’m tired of fighting, Melanie. I was hoping we could share dinner and discuss the situation rationally, without running away or verbally slaughtering each other.” His eyes glinted with mirth. “And just for the record, that woman on the tape was only partially right. I can understand most things without having them spelled out for me in black and white.”
Melanie flushed as she remembered Dr. Lana’s advice. It was a good thing he hadn’t heard any more than he had. Mitch had made the first move. She was a big enough person to accept it.
“Thank you. I love Chinese food.” She sank onto a tattered cushion with the old-world elegance of a Victorian maiden.
“I know. Health food,” he murmured, his eyes glinting. “It’s one of the things I like most about you. The other is your sense of humor.”
Melanie raised an eyebrow. Her fingers peeled back the lid on a container and she breathed in the fresh, sesame-scented air. As she spooned a large helping onto her plate, she looked at him through her lashes.
“What exactly are you doing this for, Mitch? What is it you want to talk about so badly?” Her eyes noted the light flush on his cheekbones. Melanie’s curiosity grew.
“Mitch? What is all this really in aid of?” she queried, noting the candles flickering on the quilt and the paper-towel napkins he had folded into little tents. “What do you want?”
Mitch slapped a hand to his chest in affront. “I’m insulted. How can you ask such a thing?”
She grinned cheekily.
“I can ask because I’m beginning to know you.” She studied him. “And I know you want something right now. That tic at the side of your mouth gives it away. What is it?”
She watched knowingly as his hand searched for the nonexistent tic and smiled when he glared at her. Nothing could have prepared her for his answer.
“What I really want is for you to marry me.”
She sat there with the grass tickling her ankles, a plate of her favorite food on her lap, and wondered if she’d inhaled too much fresh air. A surfeit of oxygen was supposed to be lethal, wasn’t it?
“Melanie?” His big hand was shaking her shoulder none too gently. “Say something?”
“Hello.” She smiled stupidly, wondering what in the world he expected her to say to such a strange proposal. His blue eyes narrowed.
“What is the matter with you?” he asked, worried. His fingers twitched water from her water glass onto her face. It was cold, and she veered away.
“Hey! Quit that.”
“Well?”
“Well, what?” Melanie made herself meet his probing glance.
“What do you think?”
She grabbed the opportunity. “I think you may be allergic to shellfish, too,” she told him seriously. She watched the pulse throbbing rhythmically at the side of his temple for a few seconds before picking up her fork. “Mm, this broccoli is perfect.”
He leaned back on his cushion and glared at her.
“Okay, I’ll bite. Why do you think I suffer from this malady?”
“Surely it’s obvious. Something has made you lose your mind.” Her forehead wrinkled. “Or else it’s me.”
“Now that I might go along with,” Mitch muttered.
Melanie frowned. He wasn’t going to start that again, was he?
“Look. Are you or are you not going to marry me?”
Melanie strove for control. Here he was joking about the one thing she wanted more than anything. Well, she wouldn’t fall into the trap. She knew better. He was baiting her, trying to trap her into saying something she would regret.
She laid her fork down and crossed her legs, hands folded carefully in her lap.
“Gee, this is so sudden.” She smiled sweetly. “Why, exactly, would we be getting married, honey?”
“Well, I thought…I mean, well…The money…it’s the only way.” Mitch stumbled through the speech, obviously nonplussed by her attitude.
He probably thought she would jump at the opportunity. After all, at her advanced age and everything. Ooh!
“I see.” She recrossed her legs calmly, biting down the sarcastic remarks that begged to be uttered. “So you want to marry me for my money, is that it?”
“Well, yes. Sort of.” He glared at her. “No.”
“That’s clear! Okay, and then what?”
“Excuse me?” Mitch was staring at her as if she had turned into one of those vile reptilian forms he seemed so fond of. “What do you mean, then what? We’ll get them to award the money and you can get what you’ve always wanted.”
“And then what?” She repeated the phrase, hoping he would say the only three words she wanted to hear.
Mitch stared at her. “Huh?”
“It’s a simple question, Mitch. You can figure it out. What happens after we get the money?”
“I guess we could learn to live together, or whatever.”
“I’m just a little leery of the whatever,” she murmured. “Thank you very much, but no thanks.” She slipped a spear of celery into her mouth with more aplomb than she felt.
He was dumbfounded, Melanie could see that easily enough. His mouth pursed. That meant he was close to losing control. Good! She was pretty close to the edge herself.
“What do you mean, no? Are you going to throw away all that money just because you don’t like the idea of getting married? It’s ridiculous. You could do all the things you had planned and more.”
Melanie stopped him right there.
“Oh, I like the idea of getting married, all right. But I like the idea of staying married even more. I want a husband who wants me, not my money. I want kids and a home and a life that all that money couldn’t buy.” She glared at him. “I am not marrying anyone for money, least of all you. The whole thing has gone too far.”
“But what about your residents, that guy who needs the cart and the new sound units?”
Melanie felt frustration well up, but she shoved it away, hardening her heart against the guilt waiting to crowd in.
“They will just have to find another way. And maybe I’ll have to find another job.”
Mitch was aghast. Did he repel her so much she was willing to quit her job, a job she loved doing, just to get away from him? He thought about Sara’s advice.
“You’ve got to back her into a corner, honey. She’s the type that won’t give in without you saying the words. Don’t give her any platitudes or grandiose schemes. Just tell her the truth.”
Maybe it was worth a try. God knew he didn’t think he was anything like the type for home and family, but he was darned good at making things happen. He would blasted well make sure she got that money! And in the process, he would gain the one thing he really wanted out of all this—Melanie Stewart.
“Listen to me, Melanie. I know it sounds crazy. I know we argue almost all the time. I know you think I’m just offering you a way to get the cash.” He swallowed. Hard.
“But I’m not. I want to marry you. I, er, that is, I think I’m in love with you.” He gulped a drink of water and wondered if he had really finally admitted it. But one look at her gaping face made him continue.
“I like it when you tell me about your day and the folks at Sunset. I like feeling your hair when it’s loose and curling at the ends like that. I like the way you go all out for something you believe in.” He grinned. “I like kissing you, too. And I think you like kissing me.”
“Mitch, marriage is a whole lot more of a commitment than that!”
She sounded stunned, Mitch decided. Good. Now maybe he’d have a chance to get the words said.
“I know that. And I’m ready to make that c
ommitment to you.” He knelt in front of her. “I don’t know much about marriage, Melanie. I never had much of an example except Gramps. But I do know that it takes two people and a special spark. I think we’ve got that.”
He slid his hand under the heavy fall of her hair and circled her neck, leaning in to press his lips against hers. When Melanie immediately responded, he felt a rush of warmth. No matter what she said, Melanie Stewart was not immune to him!
“You can feel it, too, can’t you?” he whispered in her ear, his arms drawing her closer.
“Yes,” she said, her arms sliding around his neck. Her eyes were dark in the dusky light. “But, Mitch, it’s going to take a lot more than attraction to make a marriage work. What about the money?”
He felt the grim chill of reality, and suddenly wished he had never heard of Papa John’s Peanut Butter.
“Melanie, the money doesn’t have anything to do with this. It’s just a byproduct of us getting married, it’s not the main reason.”
But Mitch could tell she wasn’t listening. She had withdrawn into that shell that protected her from pain.
“I can’t get married because of some prize money,” she whispered. “Marriage is a serious commitment between two people and God. It’s what I’ve believed all my life, and I can’t just forget my principles because there’s money involved.”
“But money isn’t the reason I’m asking you,” he told her. “I care for you. Really.”
“Do you?” She looked skeptical, at best. She was placing the covers on various containers. “I think we’d better go now,” she murmured. “I’ve got several loose ends to tie up before the wedding next week.”
There was nothing to do but follow her lead for now, Mitch decided grimly. But she’d come around. She had to.
“You’d better pay attention to all those details,” he told her on the drive back. “You’re going to need to remember them when our day rolls around.”
“Don’t start on that again,” she pleaded. “Please?”
“You are going to marry me, Melanie. Sooner or later you’ll realize that. So make up your mind to it because there’s no way you can talk me out of it.”
“I’m not marrying you, Mitchel. No way. So don’t think you’re going to bully me into it.” Melanie got out of the car and stomped up the front steps. “I’m not getting involved with you for the money.”
“No,” he agreed. “We’re not getting married for money. Not at all.”
He pulled her against him and covered her mouth with his. Within seconds her arms wound round his neck and she was kissing him back.
He grinned. She did want to marry him. She was just too stubborn to admit it. Now they needed to get down to business. And he knew exactly how to do it.
He grinned as Melanie flew into the house, to the safety of her private space. He waited about ten seconds and drove off, content that Melanie wasn’t immune to him, despite what she claimed. Not at all immune, if that kiss was anything to go by.
As he drove toward his apartment, Mitch thought of Nettie Rivers’s words to him at their last meeting.
“If there’s anything I can do to help you and Melanie, Mitch, you only have to ask.” She had smiled a coy little grin. “After all, I do have some influence, you know.”
He hadn’t been exactly sure what she’d meant then, but maybe it was time to find out. He could use all the help he could get.
Chapter Eleven
“It’s just a ceremony, Melanie. It’s not condemning yourself to death.” Charity looked at her daughter in amusement. “It’s a promise for the future.”
“It sounds like a death sentence. Why does Hope want all these silly things in her vows, anyway? Is there something wrong with the good old-fashioned kind?”
“Maybe she wants to express her feelings especially to Gramps,” Mitch murmured from his position opposite her. His big fingers struggled with the narrow ribbon as he fluffed and tied a tiny bow around the mint satchels they were making. “Every couple experiences things differently. And they have waited a long time. I’m sure she just wants everything to be wonderful.”
Melanie sighed tiredly. Mitch was like a dog with a bone. He would not give up this marriage idea. Whenever she refused to consider it, he started kissing her. Then her knees turned to mush and her brain blew a fuse and she couldn’t understand what he was saying for ages afterward.
“Just think about what you’re going to say to me at that altar,” he whispered in a voice loud enough that neither Charity nor Faith could fail to hear.
“Oh, I am,” she assured him grimly. “I’m thinking of a lot of things that I’m going to say to you. But mostly in private.”
Mitch had tricked her into blood tests by requesting, through official administration channels, of course, that she have a full range of blood work to update her files and make sure her insurance coverage was up to date. It had been so skillfully done that Melanie hadn’t even seen his hand in the thing until he’d presented her with their license.
“Blood tests all done,” he’d crowed, waving the papers in her face Sunday morning before church. Thankfully, she’d hushed him up, although it had meant sitting next to him all through the long service. Melanie had been fully aware of the speculative looks, the press of his knee against her leg and the warmth of his hand when he’d clasped hers so tightly.
“I need some encouragement,” he’d whispered when she had tried to tug away. “After all, as you pointed out, marriage is a big responsibility for a man.”
And his hand had stayed under her arm, under her elbow, holding hers until he’d walked her to her mother’s. He seemed totally unperturbed when Melanie threatened to dump her entire glass of iced tea into his lap just after lunch. He merely coaxed her into sitting on the patio.
“I’ve told you a hundred times,” she said, “I am not getting married. Not to you, anyway.”
Mitch leaned across and kissed the tip of her nose.
“Yes, dearest Melanie,” he insisted, “we are. Sooner or later.”
Melanie shook her head firmly. “I won’t be there.”
“Oh, yes, you will. Shawna and Sara will be there. Your mother and her friends, too. I think it would be nice if Gramps walked you down the aisle, don’t you?” He smiled fatuously. “What do you think of autumn colors for the invitations?”
“Invitations?” Melanie tried to remember discussing that, but her mind drew a blank. He had told her so many things she couldn’t keep track anymore. It was like being pestered by a whirling dervish. He was constantly on the go, planning something or other.
“These are some of the people I want to invite,” he told her seriously. She unfolded the piece of paper to find a wedding invitation inside with a long list attached. “Unless you’d rather elope? I’m all for that.” He kissed her again.
“How could you choose invitations when you don’t have anyone to marry you?” She deliberately avoided his arms.
His blue eyes peered into hers. “Don’t I?” he whispered softly into her ear. Seconds later she forgot what they had been talking about as his mouth teased hers in mindless abandon.
“You did say your favorite color was green,” he whispered, tickling her earlobe. “I thought maybe a dark spruce tone would be nice.”
Melanie burst out laughing. She just couldn’t imagine him walking into a bridal shop and demanding to see their spruce-colored wedding invitations. The man had nerve, she admitted. Lots of it.
“I didn’t realize you were into sweetheart roses,” Melanie murmured, struggling out of his arms. She agreed the invitation was very nice, and he accepted the issue as settled, which it wasn’t but she wasn’t risking another one of those sock-stealing kisses. It was hard enough to keep away from the man.
“I’m going to see Nettie now,” he murmured two hours later when the mints were all wrapped. “She has something to discuss with me, she said.”
“You two seem to spend a lot of time together,” Melanie said grumpily, knowin
g he wouldn’t tell her the subject of their discussion. “If you two are so thick, why don’t you ask her to marry you?”
She grinned triumphantly, but Mitch wasn’t in the least put off.
“She’s already involved with someone,” he told her, pressing a kiss on the end of her nose. “Besides, she thinks we belong together. I’m Prince Charming, remember?” He grinned smugly. “Bye, Charity. Thanks for a wonderful lunch.” He pressed a flyaway kiss to her mother’s cheek and proceeded down the line to encompass Faith and finally Hope in his magnificence. “Just four more days, Gramps,” he chided, smiling. “Can you wait that long?”
“That boy sure is pleased about something,” Faith said when the door closed. “Why, his spirits have just lifted to the skies. Melanie?”
“Yes, Faith?”
“Do you have any idea what Mitch is so happy about?” Melanie caught the knowing glance her mother exchanged with the other members of the fearsome threesome.
“Not a clue,” she lied airily. “He lives a fantasy life most of the time. Hope can tell you about that. She saw it as well as I did.” Melanie glanced at the other woman for confirmation and instead found Hope shaking her head.
“I always thought he was very down-to-earth and sure of himself,” Hope murmured. “Didn’t you, Harry?”
“He certainly is now.” Harry chortled. “And I think the thing he’s decided on is Miss Me—” His booming voice died away in a sudden coughing spurt.
“I’ve got to get those thank-you notes from that shower finished this afternoon.” Hope broke the silence. “Come along, Harry. You can help me. See you later, girls.”
They were gone, soon followed by Charity and Faith, who were picked up by Arthur for a drive in the country.
With nothing left to do and no one to talk to, Melanie found herself glancing through the bridal magazines Hope had left behind. She laughed outright at several of the most improbable pictures, but stopped at the center section.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered.
The dress was long and elegant with not a flounce to be found. The sweetheart neckline draped gracefully over the model’s shoulders, ending at the opalescent sheer sleeves that formed a delicate point at the wrist.