Stephanie Bond - 50 Days to Choose Your Husband

by 50 Days to Choose Your Husband (lit)

  Granted, Teddy seemed as surprised as anyone to discover that a paperwork glitch was still pending, holding up a divorce decree that he had thought final a half-dozen years ago. When he’d finally found his voice upon hearing the news, he had apologized profusely. And cursed just as profusely.

  "Let’s see how the men look in black and white," Linda said, reaching behind her for a take-out menu and a stubby pencil. She turned over the menu and across the top of the blank page wrote "Pros" and "Cons." Down the left side, she wrote "Pablo Ricci" and "Ian Saunders." She looked up and smiled. "Now, what do you admire most about Pablo?"

  I pondered. "He’s charming, polite, and worldly."

  She wrote that down. "And Ian?"

  "He’s funny, irreverent, and independent."

  She wrote that down, then propped her chin in her hand and grinned. "Who’s more sexy?"

  Hm. I admit it — I’m human. I had imagined what it might be like to sleep with each of my potential husbands, and coincidentally, with Pablo and Ian, in great detail. In heaving, sweating, panting, fell-out-of-my-twin-bed-twice detail.

  "Pablo always looks and smells like he just stepped out of a fashion shoot. He’s the kind of man that would probably set the mood with flowers and good food and wine." I could picture the two of us in a Finnish sauna. In Finland, of course. My medium-brown hair would be exotic there amidst all the blondes.

  Linda nodded dreamily. "And don’t forget about the baby."

  How could I? Pablo had told me I could keep all the money — all he wanted from our liaison was a child, an heir. It seemed like a good arrangement: I could do worse than dipping into his gene pool, and he was fond of me, I could tell. He appreciated the fact that I was well read and could speak Italian and German, and he spoke of exposing me to all kinds of adventures.

  Europeans, I realized, were more pragmatic about choosing a spouse — find someone with common interests and goals, and make a life together. The passion I could see in his eyes, and who knew — perhaps love would come.

  "So is that a ‘pro’ or a ‘con’?"

  "Hm?"

  "Having a baby — do you consider that a ‘pro’ or a ‘con’?"

  "I consider it to be...neutral."

  "Okay. Do you think Ian is sexy?"

  I hadn’t before this situation unfolded. I had known Ian most of my life, had followed him around my parents’ house and his fledgling horse farm like a puppy. He had tolerated me. But I had always felt childish and gawky around him, and if I had ever come close to having a crush on him, I had squelched it before it materialized because...well, he was Ian. At the time I had needed his friendship, and hadn’t wanted my warm fuzzies to come between us.

  Plus, I hadn’t wanted to profess a crush and have him laugh in my face, which he probably would’ve done. Ian was honest to a fault.

  So, I had never allowed my mind to stray in the direction of lusting Ian. Until lately. And much to my surprise, I had been able to whip up an impressive amount of lust for him in a relatively short period of time. And it probably had something to do with the new way he seemed to be regarding me — like I was a full-grown woman.

  "Yes, Ian is sexy," I admitted, picturing him on a horse, wrangling. Men didn’t wrangle much these days — it was a lost art. "He’s masculine and earthy and he’s good with his hands."

  Linda quirked an eyebrow.

  "Remember the little ring box he carved for my birthday?"

  "Oh. Right." She scribbled. "Okay, they both get points for sexy. How about nice?"

  "Both."

  "Funny?"

  "Both."

  She frowned. "Give me some cons."

  I drank from my cup and hummed. "Well, if I married Pablo, I wouldn’t get to see my family as often." Then I frowned. "But if I married Ian, I might get to see them too often."

  "Both could be cons," she agreed. "What else?"

  "Pablo’s job can be mentally demanding." He’s an investment broker/venture capitalist/all around international mover and shaker.

  She wrote that down. "Right — that might not leave much time for you."

  I tilted my head. "But Ian’s job is physically demanding." He ran a landscaping company and a horse farm and stables.

  "Right — that might not leave much energy for you." She scribbled. "Do your parents have a favorite?"

  "Ian, of course, since they know him. But if my mom knew that Pablo wanted a baby right away, he might overtake Ian in the running."

  "You don’t think Ian would want children?"

  I took another drink and swallowed. "I...maybe. Yes, he probably would." He came from a big family, I remembered. Lots of siblings. Then I shook myself. "But, Linda, I’m thinking in terms of getting through this next year, not forever."

  She frowned. "But why not think about forever? One of these guys could be THE guy for you. Maybe it was fate that Miss Millie stepped in to speed things up a bit."

  "Miss Millie didn’t ‘step in’ — she died."

  "But who knows — maybe you would have wound up marrying one of these guys anyway."

  I stared at her. "What did you put in your coffee?"

  She gave an exasperated sigh. "All I’m saying is if you’re going to marry one of them, why not go into it with the idea that you will be married forever?"

  "If I marry Pablo and have a child, I’ll certainly be linked to him forever, regardless of whether the marriage lasts."

  "But maybe having a child together will give you both more reason to ensure the marriage lasts. What about Ian — can you see yourself being married to him forever?"

  Thinking about Ian the loner being married, period, struck me as odd. But to me? And forever?

  I was still trying on the idea for size when the phone rang. Linda yanked it up.

  "Hello? Yes, Pablo, Jane’s sitting right here." She smiled and handed me the phone.

  "Hello?" I said.

  "Jane, darling. I was wondering if you could meet me for lunch. I wanted to talk about the prenuptial agreement."

  For the benefit of both of us, I had brought it up before we all left Mr. Van Meter’s office last week. "Sure, how about one o’clock?"

  "Yes, good. I’ll pick you up. Ciao." He hung up, and I bit into my lip, feeling a little let down at his brief conversation. On the other hand, no one liked a babbling man. And we’d have plenty of time to chat at lunch.

  When I put down the receiver, it rang again, startling me. Pablo was calling back.

  I picked up the phone and smiled into it. "Hello?"

  "Jane? It’s Ian."

  I blinked. "Hi, Ian." He didn’t sound like his usual, teasing self.

  "I was wondering if we could meet for lunch."

  "I...already have plans."

  "With that Pueblo guy?"

  I sighed. "It’s Pablo. And yes."

  "Okay, then I’ll just ask you now."

  My heart picked up — was he going to propose? Did he think that I expected him to? That I wanted him to? That he needed to in order to save face? Was he down on one knee? Hat off? Perspiring? Had he practiced in front of a mirror? My mind spun in a thousand directions.

  "Jane, are you in love with this guy?"

  I swallowed hard. "L-love? Well, this marriage is more of an arrangement between two people who care about — I mean, who accept each other. L-love doesn’t have to be in the equation...yet...or ever...really." I was rambling, I knew.

  "Jane?"

  I closed my eyes. "Yes, Ian?"

  "I’ll give you a million dollars if you don’t marry Pablo."

  Chapter Nine

  I stared around the room at my audience of four and couldn’t remember when I’d ever been so nerve-wracked. Thank goodness Mr. Van Meter’s phone had rung and bought me a bit of extra time. I had no fingernails left. My stomach churned. On top of revealing my "big decision" this morning, I was operating on about 15 minutes of sleep.

  My inherited cat, Boswell, had inducted me into the world of feline flu. Yes, cats can catch
the flu, I learned, and their symptoms imitate humans’. (Picture me with a tiny tissue dabbing at a tiny nose, and applying ointment to tiny little eyes.) I had fretted and petted and cooed for hours, and had felt tearfully relieved this morning when he’d lifted his gray head. I was hopelessly in love with the crabby little fellow.

  But I digress.

  Linda had accompanied me to Mr. Van Meter’s office, where I now faced him, as well as Ian Saunders and Pablo Ricci. Both men seemed fidgety and kept glancing at each other warily. Pablo was dressed in an exquisite dark suit, a pale blue mock turtleneck, and Italian shoes.

  He seemed concerned — had he heard about Ian’s offer? Pablo kept leaning forward on his knees, as if he wanted to say something.

  Ian wore jeans, a khaki-colored shirt, and handmade Western boots. He drummed his fingers on the foot he had propped up on the opposite knee, and in general, looked as if he didn’t quite know how he’d gotten here. I marveled that out of all the men I had started with, the remaining two were at opposite ends of the personality spectrum, yet both so appealing in different ways.

  Although I attributed my recent sleeplessness to taking care of Boswell, I confess that in between coaxing my cat to ingest vitamins, I had feverishly contemplated the possibility of being married to both men — not at once, of course, but you know what I mean.

  My roommate, Linda, sat in the back of the office and offered me a reassuring smile. On the drive over, she had hinted for clues as to what my decision was, but had respected my silence. The past few days had been a virtual blur. I was still reeling over Ian’s offer to pay me $1 million if I didn’t marry Pablo. First of all, I had no idea the man had amassed that kind of wealth from his landscaping business and horse stables. Second of all, I couldn’t believe he was willing to toss such a healthy chunk of it my way to save me...although he might have made the offer to save himself :— from marrying me.

  Mr. Van Meter ended his conversation and hung up the phone. He gave me a tight smile and folded his hands on his desk. "Well, now, Jane. Don’t keep us in suspense any longer. What is your decision regarding the marriage as spelled out in Miss Maxwell’s bequest?"

  I opened my mouth, but only a squeak emerged. I swallowed and tried again, looking from Pablo to Ian. "I...can’t marry either one of you."

  Okay, I don’t think anyone was expecting that one. The men stared back at me, and Linda made a strangled noise.

  Mr. Van Meter cleared his throat to fill the awkward silence. "Jane, did you have someone else in mind to marry in the next, um, three days?"

  I shook my head, feeling ridiculously close to tears. I pinched the back of my hand to regain my composure, then included both men in my gaze. "Pablo, Ian, I appreciate what each of you have gone through for me — the publicity, the embarrassing questions — I know the past few weeks haven’t been easy." I sighed. "But even though I’m grateful to both of you, and even though I’m tempted by the money —" I splayed my hands "— I simply can’t marry except for love."

  I turned my attention back to Mr. Van Meter. "Miss Millie was a sweetheart to want to see me married, but as good as her intentions were, I came to the realization last night that I can’t sacrifice my values about marriage and commitment for any amount of money." I blinked back a bit of moisture, then looked at Ian and added quietly, "That includes money to marry, and money not to marry."

  He studied my face, then nodded his understanding. And was that a tiny flash of relief in his eyes?

  Pablo’s expression was unreadable, but I rather imagined he was calculating how much this little fiasco had cost him in terms of his time.

  Meanwhile, the finality of my decision was settling into my stomach like a stone. I’d just turned down Miss Millie’s million and Ian’s million in the space of 30 seconds. Oi. Still...I consoled myself with the knowledge that I could respect myself and sleep at night.

  Alone.

  Linda was holding her head in her hands. I did feel guilty about her lost "finder’s fee," the 20,000 she was counting on to help start her own business. I swear if I had the money, I’d just give it to her. In consolation, I was planning to offer to do her laundry for six months. Well, okay, maybe three months.

  Ian stood and ran his hand over the hat he held. "So we’re finished here?"

  He was looking at me, not Mr. Van Meter. I hesitated, then conjured up a smile and nodded. Ian and I would never be anything more than good friends. I mourned that revelation and joined the legions of women whose circle of longtime acquaintances included that one great guy with all the appearances of a great match...but for some cosmic reason, the relationship just missed the mark.

  Ian smiled back, plunked his hat on his hairless head and touched the brim, then walked toward the door. Linda lifted her head and stood with a sigh. "I need to get back to work. I’ll talk to you later, Jane."

  I winced and nodded. Maybe I’d extend that laundry offer to nine months.

  Mr. Van Meter stood, as well. "Jane, in light of your decision, I need to retrieve an alternate set of papers for you to sign. Please excuse me a moment." From his expression and tone, his estimation of me seemed to have increased a notch. He left me alone with Pablo, and I rushed to apologize.

  "Pablo, I’m so, so sorry —"

  "No," he cut in, and surprised me by leaning forward to capture my hand between his two warm ones. "I’m the one who should be apologizing, Jane." He looked up, and I had the feeling of being cloaked by a warm blanket. (I was pretty sleepy, so my analogies were running toward bedclothes.)

  He sighed, and his breath smelled sweet. "I’m used to seeing something I want, and buying it. I was attracted to you from the first time I saw you up to your neck in fabric swatches at Ms. Thornberry’s." He smiled, and his eyes twinkled. "You put up with that woman’s demands with such grace and good humor. In you I saw a young, bright, sensitive, creative person — the kind of woman I wanted to mother my child. But I thought you would probably think I was too old for you, so instead of taking the time to woo you, I saw my chance to strike a deal. I truly believed you would come to care for me later." He wet his lips. "I handled the situation abominably, but I would be forever grateful if we could start over."

  My heart unfolded a tiny bit. "Start over?"

  "Will you have dinner with me tonight?"

  I bit into my lip. "I’d love to, but my cat is ill and I’d like to stay near him."

  "How about if I bring over takeout, and we’ll watch him together?"

  I blinked. This was a side of Pablo I hadn’t seen. Domestic. I liked it. "That sounds...wonderful." Of course I wouldn’t be able to sew any pillow covers this evening, but I could probably catch up over the weekend. I would need those extra dollars to pay for Boswell’s vet bills.

  Pablo’s grin made my mind skip ahead to things I hadn’t allowed myself to imagine. This was turning out not to be the worst day of my life after all.

  He squeezed my hand. "See you at seven?"

  I nodded, and closed my eyes when he kissed the corner of my mouth. Ding-dong. At least I’d have a spot of good news to impart to my mother when she called.

  He and Mr. Van Meter passed at the door and shook hands. I glanced at the stack of papers in the attorney’s hand and balked — apparently, turning down a truckload of money required a great deal of paperwork.

  Mr. Van Meter reclaimed his seat, leaned back, and was quiet for so long, I felt compelled to ask, "Is something wrong?"

  Finally, a little smile played on his mouth. "No. In fact, I have some very good news for you, Jane."

  I lifted my eyebrows.

  "It’s true that by not fulfilling the terms of Miss Maxwell’s will, you have foregone the $1 million that she bequeathed to you. The money now reverts to her next heir."

  I still didn’t get it.

  "Boswell."

  Now I got it, although I was stunned. "She left $1 million to her cat?"

  "To your cat. And you are executor of the money. Congratulations, Jane, you are a rich
woman." He lifted an envelope from the top of the stack of papers. "Miss Maxwell left this letter for you."

  I swallowed hard. I was rich, or rather, my cat was. With a shaky hand, I took the envelope and removed a letter written in small elegant script.

  I read the letter quickly, then smiled through sudden tears. My clever old friend had changed the course of my life forever.

  I closed my eyes and thought of Pablo’s eyes, the warmth of his hands.

  Yes.… Thanks to Miss Millie, my life would never be the same!

  The End!