On The Dotted Line

by Kim Carmichael

  “Only business, girl.” Jade crossed her arms. “We definitely need a girls’ night. Yes, I think that is exactly what is in our future.”

  “I better go collect those items for my meeting with Randolph.” A strange vibe went through her at the thought of having to go to her husband’s office. Thus far she hadn’t gone anywhere as his wife, they only stayed at the mansion.

  “Randolph’s assistant is picking you up to go to Randolph?” Jade made a tsking sound. “Yes a girls’ night is definitely in order.”

  “I’ll be right back.” She walked to the storeroom trying to remember Randolph’s list.

  “Once the truth is revealed, your friends will not only know why you married Randolph, but they will be upset with you for hiding it.” Nan shook her head.

  “Nan.” She went to an old dresser they found on a curb. They brought it here, repurposed it, painting it with stars and moons and planets, and used it to hold their paperwork. She opened the top drawer to find nothing but labels and recipes. At least they were printed on paper.

  “You shouldn’t have done anything you needed to hide in the first place.”

  “We all hide things.” She moved to the second drawer. The file folder inside gave her some hope. She peeked inside to find her astrological chart. Thrilled to locate anything in the form of a document, she took it. The rest of the drawer only held wrapping materials, she supposed that was sort of paper. “You told me sometimes it’s necessary to hide what people don’t understand.”

  “The older I get the more I find it doesn’t work.” Nan came over and handed her a frame off the wall.

  “Our business license and our first dollar.” She ran her fingers over the glass. Their first dollar came from Slate when he bought Jade a candle because she said it smelled like romance.

  With only one last place any documents could hide, she bent down and opened the bottom drawer. Once more she found paper but in the form of books. “We don’t keep records of anything.”

  “We have all we need.” Nan reached in the drawer and pulled out a book on candle making. “Records mean nothing, what matters is in the heart.”

  Willow’s inner voice told her Randolph wouldn’t exactly agree. “I’ll be back in a little bit.” She headed toward the front of the shop.

  “Take your time, it’s about time you see your husband in his natural habitat.”

  She avoided telling Nan to keep her voice down about her spouse, grabbed her bag and shoved her few finds in her purse.

  “Are you ready?” Peter asked.

  “Did Jade leave?”

  “She said she had to run, but would call.” He motioned forward. “We better get going. Randolph hates anyone being late.”

  “Does he hate records and documents?” She clutched her bag to her side.

  “He’s a businessman, and he loves documents, backup and history.” He went to the door.

  “I’ll be right there.” As she grabbed a canister of tea for Randolph, she glanced over at the bar with the tarot cards. What she lacked in documentation she gained in intuition and insight. Too bad she couldn’t distract Peter with more readings. She quickly went to the bar, shuffled the cards and concentrated on Randolph as she drew the first card off the deck.

  “The Magician.” The familiar man holding up his wand with the infinity symbol above his head represented the ability to speak about ideas, being charming and clever. Of course on the other end it told a tale of a con man or a trickster. Something told her that her husband hid something. The cards never lied. Neither did her gut instincts.

  * * * *

  Van Ayers First Capital Trust. The large gilded letters in the lobby spelled out the name of her husband’s bank, but instead of a bank with ATM machines and tellers, she was led into a business building in a skyscraper in Century City. Peter quickly nodded to the receptionist behind a huge gleaming oak desk and led her into the office.

  Wood paneling, huge pieces of artwork depicting different historical banks lined the walls. Heavy, dark furniture defined the separate workstations. The office was absolutely quiet except for the subtle clicking of computer keyboards and the employees blended into the stoic background with their neutral business suits. The entire office dripped with authority. Everyone was either here to make money, get money, or keep from losing the precious commodity.

  She glanced down at her outfit, a bright orange short hand-dyed halter dress with some jewel embellishments she and Nan added after they found the little frock and a matching sweater at a thrift store.

  As she made her way through the office, another noise joined the soft typing, that of hushed tones and whispers. She didn’t need to read minds to already know she was the topic of conversation.

  Peter opened an imposing dark wood door and motioned for her to go ahead.

  She tiptoed inside to find Randolph behind a massive mahogany desk. He didn’t as much look up from his computer when she entered.

  Peter tapped the top of an oversized hunter green leather chair and joined another older woman at a long table with piles and piles of neatly stacked papers. Yes, the man loved his documentation.

  With a smile to no one, she sat. Although her husband was only across the desk from her, he seemed miles away.

  Randolph continued to clink away on his computer without glancing her way.

  She waited, picked a string off her dress, moved her hair out of her face, swung her leg and tapped her foot.

  No one acknowledged her. She took in his office. The shelves of books, the art on the walls, Randolph’s framed degrees from college, had all the makings of perfectly planned success.

  Once she finished studying the office, she turned her attention back to Randolph. Still, he didn’t even bother peeking over at her, give her a friendly wave, or a tilt of the head, nothing. His desk was as neat as everything else about him, no life, no personality, simply the required computer, a clock, a blotter, some pens and stacks and stacks of file folders. He continued to stare at his monitor, his face devoid of any emotion, but the man still had the looks of a gorgeous teen idol, only one who grew up and had to get a real job. Her thought wandered to the tarot card again. What did he hide that he couldn’t even take a glance at her?

  Lost in watching him, she put her elbow on the arm of the chair and rested her head in her hand.

  “I finished the documents for the Hartfords.” At last Randolph spoke.

  As if he issued a command, Peter and Mrs. No Name stood.

  “Get the signatures, and I want no further interruptions while I meet with my wife.” He pushed his chair back from the computer.

  With military precision they both walked out of the office, the woman taking a long look at her before leaving.

  Only when the door clicked closed did Randolph turn to her. “You really shouldn’t slouch like that.”

  “Hello, how are you? No, I don’t mind waiting, thank you.” She forced herself to remain in her position.

  “As an executive’s wife you are going to have to get used to waiting sometimes.” He rocked his chair back.

  “Did you call me here to teach me that lesson?” Her back ached from her funky angle, but she refused to move.

  “No. I called you here to review a few of your responsibilities, starting with some questions on your business.”

  At the mention of her store, she sat up, her back popping in relief. “What is it?”

  “First and foremost,” he opened his drawer, pulled out an envelope and pushed it across the desk toward her, “get your rent caught up. Make sure Jade gives you a receipt. I don’t like to make it a habit of paying in cash, but until we get your accounts and such straightened out, its necessary since this is so time sensitive.”

  “Thank you.” The man remembered everything. She reached across the desk.

  Before she took the envelope he put his hand over hers. “Willow.”

  “Yes?” She said thank you, was there something else?

  “Where’s your ring?” H
e glared down at her empty finger.

  “Oh.” She slid her hand away from his. “I put it in my bag while I’m at work.”

  “Our contract clearly states that you are to wear the ring.” He strummed his fingers on the desk. “I don’t think you should keep something that expensive tumbling around in your purse.”

  “I didn’t leave it tumbling.” Even with the room at the ideal temperature, she broke out into a sweat and jammed her hand in her bag in search of the ring. “People from the gallery visit my shop every day.”

  “And you still have a contract with me. Contracts are binding agreements.” He grunted. “The ring needs to be on your person at all times, especially in situations like this where you are at my office, it needs to be on your finger.”

  “Okay.” Her heart sped up and she took a long breath as she continued to search her bag and tried to figure out what he meant by ‘on her person.’

  “May I ask you to put it on now?” He leaned forward.

  “Yes.” Her fingers made their way through her yarn, past her wallet, around the papers and frame she brought for him, and hit the leather bottom of the bag where she traced the edges. No ring. An unfamiliar weight settled on her chest. She jumped out the chair, got down on her hands and knees, and dumped the bag on the floor.

  “Willow!” In an instant Randolph came around his desk and joined her.

  Her stuff scattered over the Persian rug and she clawed through them. “Oh my God!” She tossed Randolph’s family heirloom into a bag like a pack of gum for her own strange pride, never mind how much the gem was worth or what it meant.

  “Did you lose my ring?” He sifted through her belongings, lifting her ball of yarn.

  A flash of yellow caught her eye. “The ring!”

  “Stop!” He held up the mess.

  She lunged for the yarn, landing with her face basically in his crotch and froze. Actually, she hadn’t noticed the slight pinstripe on his navy suit before.

  “Willow.” His voice tensed with restraint.

  She turned away from the pinstripes up to his face and the yarn with the ring dangling from it. “There’s the ring.”

  He plucked the bauble off the yarn and held it out to her. “If you don’t mind.”

  She pushed herself up, returned the jewelry to her finger and glanced down at the disaster. Everything about Randolph seemed orderly and pristine while she came off as a one woman hurricane. “Let me clean up this mess.”

  Without a word he helped her pile the things back in the bag, lifting the frame.

  “I found my business license.” She sort of wanted him to say something.

  He reached up, put it on his desk and pointed at the file folder. “May I?”

  She nodded, thankful he spoke.

  He opened it and with two fingers held up her chart. “Is this your rental agreement, insurance papers or checkbooks?”

  The man had amazing memory. “That is my astrological chart. We can do yours if you like.”

  “I’m good, thank you for the offer.” He handed it back to her.

  Along with his memory, he also had impeccable manners.

  They returned the rest of items to her bag and he held out the little silver canister of her tea. “Calama-tea?”

  “I brought that for you.” She tried to smile. “It’s for stress. I think I’ll make some for me and my customers when I get back to work.”

  He stood and helped her up.

  They reclaimed their opposing sides of the desk.

  The silence stretched out, the only noise the tapping of his fingers on the tea canister. At last he nodded. “You serve tea at your store?”

  “Yes.” Though she wanted to slump down again she sat up straight. “We also serve little nutritional crackers and herbal remedies.

  He held up the tea. “Where do you make this?”

  “Nan and I make it in the small kitchen at the store.” She snuck her hand in her purse. “Sometimes she makes candy, in fact, I may have some.”

  “You serve people food in your store?” He put the jar down.

  “Am I on trial?”

  “I’m asking a question.”

  Unsure of the right answer, she nodded. “Just what I told you.”

  “Do you have a license to be serving food out of your store?” His question came out more as an accusation. “Do you have the proper permits?”

  “It’s just some tea and baked goods.” They needed permits and licenses for a few little snacks?

  “You know what that is legally called?” He threw his next question out before she fully understood the one before.

  She ground her teeth together.

  “That, my dear, is called a restaurant, and if you are caught serving food without the proper licenses you will have some huge issues.” He pointed at her. His finger may as well have been a gavel hitting her in the head and giving her a guilty verdict.

  Her mouth opened, but no words would form. Restaurant?

  “Until we figure this out, no more food service and you are making everything at home.” He doled out his ruling. “How did you even get insurance?”

  She folded her hands in her lap. “Nan always said we had nothing to lose.”

  He blinked and stared at her as if she spoke a foreign language. “Did you ever think you might? Did you ever think if something happened you needed to not only protect yourself and Nan, but the person making the claim? What if they were really hurt?”

  With no words, she covered her mouth with her hand. She never gave the insurance a second thought, thinking it was there to protect her and Nan, she never realized it protected others.

  “I will take care of this. Just don’t do anything or kill anyone until I have a chance to decide the best course of action.” He hardened his jaw.

  Yes, she married him, and yes, she agreed for help, but she didn’t agree for him to take over her life or treat her like a toddler. “I can handle my business, thank you.”

  “Not when what you do can negatively impact me.” He stared right at her. “Read your contract.”

  Her mouth dried out and she licked her lips. “While you are fixing my business, what am I doing?”

  “I do have something for you.” Once more he opened his desk drawer.

  Not wanting any more gifts or help, she pushed her back into the chair.

  He revealed a rich brown book with a little brown ribbon to be used as a bookmark, at least his offering held potential. “Here you are.”

  She took the book. “A calendar?”

  “You are in charge of our calendar as a couple.”

  “What do you mean?” She flipped through the pages and noticed some entries already written inside.

  “Part of why my father felt I needed to get married is I need to take over some of the social duties of the bank. My wife handles those arrangements.” He picked up one of his pens and twirled it between his fingers. “My secretary will update you on any events that need to be arranged. You will need to become familiar with the restaurants and venues.”

  “I’m not doing this.” She shut the book.

  “I beg to differ.” For the third time he opened the drawer. He took out some stapled sheets. “According to our contract you will perform all duties of a wife including managing our social calendar and attending all events with yours truly at your side.”

  “I signed away my social life?” She grabbed the document from him.

  “Fourth paragraph down.”

  She scanned the page, finding the said paragraph. “I thought we were only supposed to get married and sleep together.” At her own words, she threw the contract on his desk.

  “You put the kibosh on that.” A wide know-it-all smile took over his face. “Do you think for all that I’m offering on my end that would be the only things required? Good business is when both parties do well. It can’t be all one sided. I would have thought you would want balance.”

  The man knew how to use her words against her. “For someone who s
eems to hate his father’s plan, you are doing the same thing.”

  “You may want to look ahead to the next couple of weeks. We have several dinners.” His expression remained the same, no doubt the exact one he used when he won a deal.

  “What else is in the contract?” The meeting was over for her at least and she stood.

  “I thought you read it, but I have an extra copy if you need to review the terms of our agreement.”

  “I’m fine. I just need to get back to my store.” She backed up. Where did her life go? He couldn’t take over everything, but he did, right down to her store and her Saturday nights.

  “I will take you back. Maybe we can grab some lunch.” He seemed to rise from his chair like an otherworldly demon.

  Again she opened the book and glanced down at the day. With a breath, she turned it toward him. “Looks like I’m free today.”

  “Nothing is ever free.” He leaned on the desk.

  Her breath quickened, she needed some fresh air and turned. “I am learning that.”

  “Willow.” His voice teased her.

  “I think I’ll pass on lunch.” She peeked over her shoulder. “I need to get back to work.”

  “Don’t forget this.” He held the envelope with the money out to her. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  The envelope. All she needed to do was walk away, not touch it, pack up her, Nan and Jeb and bolt. As she told him, she had nothing to lose.

  She balled her hand in a fist. Of course, if she left she would welch on a contract, her vows, and Jade. The way things were going, she and Nan would never have a home, and they would be on the streets...again. “How could I forget?” She took the money and left.

  Chapter Seven

  Randolph practically sprinted down the hall to his suite with the papers to get Willow her insurance, and a bottle of wine. Maybe he was a bit hard on her, and he needed to make it up. He already made reservations at one of his favorite restaurants. Actually, his secretary made them, and soon Willow would be doing the same.

  He opened the door to an empty room, not the kind of empty where someone had been there before him, but a cold empty, devoid of life, or the energy Willow mentioned.