The Wedding Venture: 5-hour read. Marriage of Convenience, Romantic Comedy (Colorado Billionaires Book 3)

by Regina Duke

  Jason sipped his coffee. The aroma of baking bread filled the shop with comforting yeasty smells. It seemed like none of the customers wanted to leave. He remembered his flashback to cookies baking in his grandmother’s home.

  “Dee, I’ve been trying to remember more about the time before the accident. Dad used to take me flying in his Husky over at Pueblo Memorial. Did grandmother ever sell that plane?”

  “Oh, no. It’s still there. I know because Mrs. Johnson told me Dolores nearly fired her personal assistant Gloria when she suggested getting rid of the plane and all the hangar fees and maintenance costs. You know, to save some money. It’s not cheap to keep a plane. And it’s not like Dolores was ever going to use it. But she said no, the plane would be yours someday.”

  “Really?” Jason was touched that his grandmother had taken his wishes into account about that, at any rate. “I must admit, that’s good news. I was thinking of driving over there today and looking for it. Nice to know I’ll actually find it.” He let his mind drift back to his childhood. “I used to know a girl named Gloria,” he said. Then he shuddered. “Not my favorite memory. Say, when I was little, who was it who used to bake chocolate chip cookies?”

  “Oh, that was your mother. She said she got the recipe from her sister Grace.”

  Jason smiled. “That makes sense. Aunt Gracie has been making those cookies for me for years. And there used to be music in the house all the time.”

  Dee looked suddenly uncomfortable. She glanced at her watch. “Oh, dear. Look at the time. I’d better get moving.” She reached out and touched his hand. “I’m so glad you’re back. The longer you hang around, the more memories will come back to you, I’m sure.” She gave him a quick smile, then scurried out.

  Jason watched her go, wondering what he’d said to send her running.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Vicky was accustomed to her mother being a bit distant when they talked, but today Elsa Winn sounded upset.

  “What’s wrong, Mom?”

  “Nothing, really. I just called to find out how you did at the competition.” Tight and clipped, but somehow off.

  “Oh.” Denial was something else Vicky was used to, and it was something she understood. She couldn’t bear the thought of relating all her own bad news to her mother. Elsa was not a sympathetic person. All her life, Vicky had been reminded that setbacks were obstacles to overcome and that she was at least partly responsible for everything that happened to her. After all, she’d made her own choices in life. Or at least that’s what her mother kept telling her. Vicky couldn’t help but feel most of her choices had been carefully scripted by her mother. By the time she entered high school, she’d learned to confide in her friends and tell her mother as little as possible. And yet, the one thing she’d always yearned for was her mother’s approval.

  “Sorry I didn’t call you after the finals. I didn’t place. I was too upset to talk.” At least that last part was true.

  Her mother’s disapproving silence was crushing.

  At last Elsa said, “I see. So I have no hope of being reimbursed for the entry fee.”

  Vicky pinched the bridge of her nose. She should have known that was coming. “I’ll pay it back as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, of course. I just need it now.”

  Vicky’s temper flared. “It was your idea to pay the entry fee, remember? I was going to wait for the next one.”

  “Your career will not build itself, Vicky. You must work harder at this stage or all is lost.”

  “Yes, mother, whatever you say. I’ll try not to disappoint you again. Oh, gee, look at the time. I have to go now.” She couldn’t wait to hang up.

  “Wait. Please.”

  Vicky paused. That last syllable had cost her mother dearly. Now Vicky was sure that something was wrong.

  “Okay. I’m waiting.”

  Elsa’s voice sounded funny. After several seconds, it dawned on Vicky that her mother was trying to talk through tears.

  “Carl is leaving me. He lost his job three months ago. His boss hired a man twenty years younger because he could pay him half the salary. And we are behind in the mortgage payments. He was very angry that we still have the second to pay off as well.”

  That hurt. Vicky never asked her mother and stepfather to help pay for her education. Her mother insisted, because she wanted Vicky to go to schools with the best piano instructors. But that didn’t stop them from bringing it up every chance they got. She pressed her lips in a thin line and said nothing.

  “Are you still there, Vicky?”

  It was so strange to hear Elsa’s voice break that Vicky decided to overlook the dig about the second mortgage. “I’m sorry you’re having troubles, Mom. You never mentioned that Carl was out of work when you sent the entry fee, or I wouldn’t have accepted it.”

  “He hadn’t been fired when I sent the money.”

  “Well, you should be okay, right? I mean, even if he asks for a divorce, you always have your own money.”

  “Teaching piano is an uncertain income. That’s why I’ve always urged you to pursue the concert stage. A piano teacher makes very little money, in comparison. I’m never sure from week to week how much will be coming in. And Carl is very upset about the mortgages. He’s despondent and angry. He says he’s going to walk away from the house payments. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay in the house.” Her voice squeaked on the last word.

  Vicky collapsed on the sofa. “Mom, I don’t mean to sound uncaring, but this is a lot to take in. Why didn’t you tell me some of this sooner?”

  Elsa’s voice was back to normal now, distant and cool. “I didn’t want to disrupt your rehearsal time. And I’ve never wanted to hang my dirty laundry in public.”

  “Most people share these things with their family members, Mom.”

  “We are not most people.”

  “No. Of course not.” Vicky shook her head in disbelief and wondered how she and her mother could be so different.

  “And I have shared the details with you just now, haven’t I?”

  “Yes, I guess so. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure. Carl is moving out, although I have no idea where he’s going. He complains about the bills piling up, but he seems to have money in his pocket. I’ve found fast food wrappers in the car, and I know he eats out when he’s job hunting. In fact I’m not sure how much job hunting he’s really doing.” She hesitated, then continued, “I smelled alcohol on his breath yesterday.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Yes.” Elsa’s voice broke again.

  Vicky was stunned. Her stepfather hadn’t taken a drink in twenty years. He was one of those men who turned ugly and violent under the influence of alcohol. More than losing the house, this development had to be devastating for her mother.

  “Mom, if he’s drinking, it’s better that he move out.”

  “I know.” Back in control. “And I also know that you are barely making ends meet, but if I lose the house, do you think you might have room for a visitor in your San Francisco apartment?”

  The suggestion was so startling it scattered Vicky’s thoughts. She glanced around, desperate for something to focus on. She spotted the fax on the coffee table and picked it up. Her mother had never expressed the slightest interest in visiting her, not in college and not in San Francisco. She’d been so secure in the knowledge that her mother would never see her place that she had elaborated in her descriptions. Everyone, including Madlyn, thought she had a lovely apartment with a bedroom and a kitchenette, not one room in a boarding house. And now she didn’t even have that.

  “Do we have a bad connection?” Elsa asked.

  “I’m here. I’m thinking.” Flustered, Vicky skimmed through the fax to give her brain something to focus on. Then she frowned and skimmed through it again. The faintest glimmer of hope flickered within her. “Mother, I’m going to repay you for everything, okay? If I could somehow pay off your house, would you be able to get by on y
our teaching income?”

  “Oh, my.” Elsa’s surprise was obvious. “Is that possible? Are you sure? Oh, Vicky darling, that would make my situation so much more survivable.”

  Vicky could not remember ever being called “darling” by her mother. She was deeply touched. A moment later she began to panic. What if she couldn’t follow through? On impulse, she’d held out a branch of hope. Now she had to figure out how to make good on it.

  “I really have to go, mom. I have to make some phone calls.”

  “All right. Thank you, dear.”

  Another endearment. Things were really serious.

  “Bye.” Vicky ended the call and pulled the fax closer, looking for Jason’s phone number.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  No sooner had Jason decided he was definitely heading to Pueblo to check out the condition of his father’s plane than his phone rang. He was pleasantly surprised to hear Vicky’s voice.

  “Hello? Is this Jason?”

  “Yes. Did you read the fax?”

  “I did. It sounds too good to be true, but I would like to discuss it with you.”

  Jason’s heart lurched. He clamped down on his budding excitement. He had to stay in control of the situation. “That’s great news. How about a drive to Pueblo? I have some errands there. I’ll pick you up. We can talk on the way.”

  “All right. I’ll be waiting.”

  Jason hung up. He was gathering his napkin and coffee cup to leave when his phone pinged. It was a text from his lawyer’s office, from Ed Clayborn, the senior partner.

  “Call me at earliest convenience.”

  Jason took his cup to the counter. “Refill, please.” He would have to call his lawyer before picking up Vicky. He decided he’d better take his coffee to go. He didn’t want everyone in the bakery to know his business.

  He put the top up on the Jaguar. It was sunny but too brisk for sitting still. The aroma of his coffee filled the interior.

  Touching the steering wheel brought a flood of memories of Uncle Jerry. He remembered the last time they waxed the Jag. Jerry was in a wheel chair by then, so Jason and his aunt Gracie had done all the work. She sang and chatted the whole time, alternating between tending to Jerry and rubbing in the wax. They were an awesome pair. Based on their conversation the night before, she seemed to be okay, but he knew in his heart that she was trying to be brave for him.

  The memories also brought a twinge of guilt for losing his temper with his grandmother. But he consoled himself with the knowledge that he’d taken action to remedy that situation.

  Think of all the good you can do with that money.

  Jerry’s words had become his mantra.

  “Don’t worry, Uncle Jerry. I will make sure I inherit.” He sipped his coffee. He placed the call and was surprised when Clayborn answered on the first ring.

  “Good morning, Ed,” Jason greeted. “Secretary off for the day?”

  “No. I gave you my private line. I just wanted to talk to you for a few minutes.”

  “Is there something wrong with the contract you faxed me?”

  “Hmm? Oh, no, that will work just fine. Smart move, getting such a detailed prenup ahead of time. And it will fulfill the requirements Dolores inserted in her will. Have your fiancée sign it in the presence of a notary.”

  “Actually, I was planning on doing that in your presence. You may have to meet us somewhere.”

  “Great. Perfect.”

  “So what did you want to talk about?”

  “Have you met her personal assistant?”

  “No, not yet. Is she a problem?”

  “She’s been making personnel changes amongst the staff. I think you should look into it. Your grandmother can’t run that place by herself.”

  “Lord, no. It takes a lot of people to keep that place looking good. I’ll ask Gran about it.”

  “Also, I got a call a while back from Alistair Mays that concerns me.”

  “Gran’s butler? How is he? I love that guy. He’s the only thing about Gran’s place that I really miss.”

  “When was the last time you visited the house? Prior to this trip?”

  Jason searched his memory. “Probably six months ago. Al and I got sloshed in the library. Well, to be honest, I got sloshed. Al pretended to keep up with me so I wouldn’t try driving one of the Rolls into town under the influence.”

  “Well, Alistair called me.”

  “And?”

  “He’s worried about your grandmother’s state of mind.”

  “Losing her memory? She’s seventy. People do that as they get older, you know.”

  “It’s more than that. He said she often seemed confused in the mornings. Living in the past, or maybe not letting go of it. He’s worried.”

  “I see. She seemed perfectly okay to me last night.”

  “He’s also thinking of suing the family.”

  “What? Why?”

  “It seems your grandmother fired him without cause.”

  “That can’t be right. Alistair practically grew up with our family. His dad worked for us. Do you have his number? I’ll call him right away.”

  “I only have a cell number.” He rattled it off.

  “Okay. I have to go. I’ll call soon.” He ended the call and dialed the cell number. It went to voice mail. Jason hung up. The situation was too bizarre for a phone message. He’d try later. At the moment, he needed to talk to Vicky. Once he secured his future, he could start repairing whatever had gone wrong in his absence.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Vicky paced back and forth in Madlyn’s living room until she thought she’d wear a path in the rug. Now that she’d decided to take Jason’s offer, she wanted him to get there fast, before she changed her mind.

  “This is maddening. I need to do something.” She hauled her suitcase upstairs to her bedroom. It only took a few minutes to hang up her black and white wardrobe and tuck her undies away in an empty drawer. Compared to Madlyn’s overstuffed closet, her wardrobe looked monkish. Or maybe nunnish? All black and white and very little of it. But Madlyn had been working since high school at a clothing boutique. She’d had four years to build up a closet full of pretty things. And no one expected her to look like a sexless penguin on a concert stage.

  She texted Madlyn’s cell to tell her she was going to have a meeting with Jason. “If he ever gets here,” she muttered. There was no immediate response, but then Madlyn was on the job. Most likely, she’d check her messages on her break.

  Vicky moved into the kitchen and looked around for something to do. It only took her two minutes to wash up the breakfast dishes. Two coffee mugs, one knife, one plate. While she was there, she glanced out the back door.

  The leaves were falling from the maple tree in a red and orange October ballet. Most of them were already on the ground. She spotted the box of trash bags and the rake waiting on the back porch. It was obviously a chore that Madlyn had not had time to get around to. Well, at least she could do something useful for her friend. She ran upstairs and go her black sweater, then headed out to rake and bag leaves.

  The air was crisp and clean. She remembered when she and Madlyn were little girls, Madlyn’s father would rake the leaves into a big pile and they would take turns leaping into the middle. Then he would rake them again, and the girls would jump again. What a patient man. So different from her stepfather.

  It had broken her heart to leave Eagle’s Toe. Her mother made a big deal out of the need to find her the best piano teachers. When Vicky burst into tears at the news that the family was moving, her mother shushed her sternly and said, “You must respect your talent, Vicky. You cannot let it lie fallow. Everything possible must be done to ensure your future as a concert pianist. Now dry your tears before Carl sees them. He’s very angry about the move.”

  Her last chore at their old house was raking leaves. She was certain they’d sent her outside so she couldn’t hear them fighting. She could remember her mother standing in the kitchen, tight-lippe
d and angry, while her stepfather Carl waved his arms and bellowed about having to take the jobs where he found them. Funny she hadn’t remembered that before.

  She stopped suddenly and her breath caught. All that talk about moving away in search of a better piano teacher was just her mother’s rationalization. Raking Madlyn’s leaves had brought back a memory she’d buried deep inside. Her heart lurched. All those years, she was made to feel that she was the reason they had moved. She was the reason their finances suffered. She was the cause of it all, her cursed talent requiring the family to make those sacrifices. Over and over, her mother impressed upon her the need to honor her talent. She must not waste her Friday nights at school football games. No, she needed to practice. There was no money for a prom dress. The piano teacher had to be paid, and there was sheet music to buy. One thing after another was sacrificed so she could focus on one thing only, her future as a concert pianist.

  “I love playing, Mother. You know that. But I keep getting sick before piano tests. There are judges in the audience, and they stop you in the middle of your piece to tell you what you’re doing wrong. I end up shaking like a leaf and throwing up in the girl’s bathroom, over and over.”

  “Stage fright is normal. I should have let you take drama in high school. It might have helped. Just push through it. Everyone gets nervous on stage. You’re nothing special in that regard. Get up there and play with everything you’ve got.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  Everything was sacrificed for her future as a concert pianist, and she wasn’t even sure that’s what she wanted to do. Even leaving Eagle’s Toe was supposedly to further her career.

  But it wasn’t that at all. Her stepfather had lost his job all those years ago, and they had to move away because the only work he could find was in a different state. A decades old resentment flared into anger. That sneaky rat. How dare they lay all that on her for all those years? And now he’d lost another job, and he was lashing out by leaving her mother high and dry.

  Rage fueled her raking, and the leaves didn’t stand a chance. Before she knew it, she had four bags full and ready to put out by the trash. Well, no time like the present. She wrangled the bags as best she could, threading her long fingers through the knots she’d tied in the tops, and dragged all four at once to the side gate. She used an elbow to undo the latch. Just then she heard someone knocking on the front door. She dragged the bags to the vicinity of the big wheeled trash can, then scurried back through the gate and into the house. She needed to run a comb through her hair before she let Jason in. She pulled the sweater off and dropped it on the kitchen counter, next to the toaster, as she trotted through the house to the downstairs bathroom. Surely Madlyn wouldn’t mind if she used her hair brush.