When her doorbell rang minutes later she learned there were actually two agents, as Z.L. had mentioned. Agent Chmielewski presented his female companion, Marybeth Galasso. Both agents appeared to be on opposite ends of their forties. Agent Chmielewski, the younger of the two, was of average height with thinning brown hair and glasses. Agent Galasso had obviously colored dark blonde hair and was on the plump side.
Mrs. Galasso immediately apologized when she saw Genevieve’s crutches, elbow sling, and wrapped ankle. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d been hurt.”
She explained about the robbery and its aftermath. “But I’m all right.” She boldly added, “My husband is taking good care of me.” With a brilliant smile, she then invited them in.
“Your husband is the reason we’re here, Miss L’Esperance,” Mr. Chmielewski said even before he took a seat on the sofa, wasting no time. “We’re aware that your visa has been expired for some time. However, marriage to an American citizen, provided it’s legitimate, will negate that.”
Genevieve psyched herself out to radiate the confidence she needed. “Oh, it’s legitimate, all right.”
“May I see your marriage certificate, please?”
“I hope it isn’t too much trouble, with your ankle and all,” Mrs. Galasso quickly added.
“No, it’s in my office. Excuse me while I get it.” Fortunately, after four days of using crutches, navigating in and out of the sunken living room had gotten somewhat easier. She maneuvered to the office and retrieved the signed certificate from her file of important papers, handing it to Mr. Chmielewski before sitting down. His partner was holding their wedding picture with a broad smile on her face, and suddenly Genevieve was very grateful to Dexter for having the foresight to display it.
Mr. Chmielewski studied the dates, then frowned as he checked his notes. “I saw a postcard you sent to the building superintendent postmarked in June stating you’d gotten married and were on a cross-country honeymoon. This document, on the other hand, shows that a license was taken out and the ceremony performed the same day in August, less than two months ago.” He looked at her, his expression impassive, but Genevieve felt that he wanted to say, Gotcha! “How do you explain that, Mrs. Gray?”
Genevieve noticed he now addressed her by her married name. She hoped that meant he believed her, even just a little bit. As for his question, she’d known that subject would come up, and she had an answer ready. “Well, that had been the plan. I’d been seeing someone for some time, you see, and he asked me to marry him. I told him yes, and we decided to take a cross-country road trip. I wanted to get married in San Francisco because it’s such a beautiful, romantic city.”
“Understandable,” Mrs. Galasso murmured.
“But when we got there, right after I’d mailed that postcard, as a matter of fact, I found out he was cheating on me.” Genevieve allowed herself to become angry at the fabricated offense, her jaw becoming rigid. “His cell phone rang while he was in the shower, and it was another woman he’d been balancing along with me. I called off the wedding and came back to New York.”
“Oh, how awful!” Mrs. Galasso exclaimed sympathetically, but Genevieve had a hunch that she and Mr. Chmielewski role-played while questioning immigrants, she being compassionate and kindhearted while he was a real hard-nose, each hoping to make her nervous and say something that would expose her marriage to be a pretense. Sometimes extreme kindness, like that which Mrs. Galasso demonstrated, could make a person get comfortable and talk too much.
Genevieve played along, determined to say nothing that wasn’t absolutely necessary. “Yes. Even though the INS could have sent me back if they caught up with me, I couldn’t bring myself to marry a man who wasn’t completely devoted to me. But what made it really awful was that I’d just had a brief encounter with another man at a restaurant in Murray Hill,” she said, launching into a preface to the story she and Dexter had concocted. “I actually felt ashamed of myself for being attracted to him, because I was about to marry someone else. But I couldn’t get him out of my mind. After the breakup I became desperate to find him again. I spoke with the bartender, who knew him, and asked him to call me the next time Dexter came in.” That bartender had conveniently left New York for Miami, but if the agents wanted to check their story, the owner of the bar would verify the former bartender’s employment. Genevieve thought it was brilliant.
Mrs. Galasso gasped audibly. “And he called you?”
“Yes,” Genevieve replied. “I hightailed it down there right away. Within two weeks we were madly in love. It happened so fast it frightened me.” She paused. “I never did tell Dexter how close I came to marrying another man.” She had to make sure they knew that, or else she ran the risk of Dexter being asked about a situation he knew nothing about.
“So you had two men who wanted to marry you?” Mr. Chmielewski asked, sounding more than a touch sardonic.
She tried to conceal her nervousness at his skepticism. “Yes, although the first affair moved a lot slower than the second.”
“I can see how that could happen, Mrs. Gray,” Mrs. Galasso said reassuringly. “After all, you’re a charming young woman, and very pretty as well.”
She beamed. “Thank you. Isn’t it lucky?”
“Sounds like more than luck to me,” Mr. Chmielewski remarked. “Especially since you had to get an American husband in order to stay here.”
She refused to be put off. “Well, you know what they say about the truth being stranger than fiction.”
“The whole idea of a whirlwind romance sounds like a wonderful romantic movie,” Mrs. Galasso gushed. “Tell me, where is your husband now, Mrs. Gray?”
“He’s in class,” she replied proudly. “He’s a law student at NYU.” She knew she didn’t imagine the two of them exchanging glances. She knew what they were thinking...either their marriage was genuine or her husband was a fool, for if it was proven he’d participated in a sham marriage he’d never get a law license. “And after his classes are over, he’ll be going to work until eleven p.m. He’s a technician at the M.E.’s office.”
“It sounds like he’s awfully busy,” Mrs. Galasso observed. “You two probably don’t get too much time together.”
“Oh, we manage,” she said easily. “It helps that I’m rather busy myself. I’m a graphic designer, and my business is thriving.” She shrugged. “The Paris connection, you know. It impresses a lot of people.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re doing well,” Mr. Chmielewski said. “Apartments like this don’t come cheap, and I understand this is a condominium.”
Genevieve knew he was hinting that she was keeping Dexter, but she refused to be baited. “My late father was a noted chemist, Mr. Chmielewski. I hope you don’t expect me to apologize for his success. But I did keep the fact that I’m rather well-to-do under wraps when it came to the men I dated.” She chuckled. “I’m afraid I was less than honest. I used to tell my dates that I’d have to meet them because I was sharing a tiny apartment with three other girls. Dexter didn’t know where I lived until after he proposed. One does have to watch out for fortune hunters,” she explained. “Of course, once Dexter starts practicing law we’ll be able to split the expenses more equitably.”
“I understand,” Mrs. Galasso said warmly.
Mr. Chmielewski merely grunted, and for a moment the air was heavy with tension. “No insult intended, Mrs. Gray,” the agent replied, “but I’m sure you’re aware of the practice of persons who are in the United States without authorization who pay U.S. citizens to marry them to authenticate their residency. We have to investigate all marriages between undocumented aliens and U.S. citizens.”
His partner picked up from there. “What we do in a case like this,” she explained, “is meet with the couple within seventy-two hours of our initial interview for a more in-depth discussion to satisfy us that the marriage is a legitimate one. So I do hope that Mr. Gray can take some time off to meet with us Thursday or Friday.”
“
Oh, for something this important I’m sure he can. But I’d like to check with him before I give you a definite time, if that’s all right. My guess is that he’d rather miss work than school, but he’ll have a better idea than I.”
“Certainly. Would you like to call him now?”
At that moment the buzzer to the delivery door on the other side of the kitchen rang. A weary Genevieve reached for her crutches for the second time since sitting down. “I can’t imagine who that could be. Please excuse me.”
“Who is it?” she asked through the closed door.
“Delivery from Quizno’s.”
She opened the door. Of all times for someone to show up at the wrong unit. “There must be a mistake. I didn’t order any—” she broke off when the man raised his baseball cap, allowing her to see his face. “Barry! What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been worried about you, Genevieve, ever since you sprained your ankle. I know you didn’t want me to come to your place because it would make the doorman curious and he might report it to the INS, but the daytime guy doesn’t know me. I had an idea of how to get around it. I took off my tie and jacket and borrowed this golf jacket and baseball cap from a kid in the mailroom, bought you some lunch and told the guy on the door and the one at the desk that I was delivering.” He looked quite pleased with himself. “Smart, huh?”
She frantically shook her head. “Barry, you can’t come in now. The people from the INS are here talking to me.”
His mouth dropped open. “Oh, no!”
“You have to leave right now. Realizing the doorman would think something was amiss if Barry left still holding his delivery, she grabbed the bag from him. “Wait. I’ll need to take that.”
“I’ll wait in the Starbucks around the corner. Call me the minute they leave, and I’ll come back.” He made a hasty exit.
Genevieve left the bags on the kitchen counter and grabbed the cordless and speed-dialed Dexter’s cell. She moved to the living room to ensure the agents would hear her end of the conversation.
“Dexter,” she said when he answered, “I know you’re in class, but this is important. There are two agents from Immigration here, and they need to speak with both of us within the next few days. Because my visa had expired before we got married, they need to confirm that you and I got married simply because we love each other and for no other reason.” She laughed lightheartedly, as if such an idea were preposterous. “Do you want a morning appointment or afternoon?”
“Make it around three p.m. or after,” he said quickly. “Any day they want. That way I won’t have to miss any classes. I’ll just have to be late for work that day. I can tell you’re talking in front of them. You’re doing a good job, Jenny. Just keep that up, and we won’t have any problem. I’ll call you after class.”
“All right, I’ll tell them.” Genevieve felt she needed to add something special before ending the call, but she was shocked by what actually came out of her mouth.
“I love you, too.”
So much for keeping off my feet, Genevieve thought as she closed the door behind the departing agents. She’d been up and down more than an elevator in the last half hour.
They’d made an appointment for Friday at three-thirty. Both she and Dexter would be interviewed, together and separately, at the INS offices. The surroundings themselves would be intimidating. She only prayed it would go well.
Dexter must have thought she was nuts with her farewell line to him—he’d actually gasped after a moment of stunned silence—but, judging from the pleased look on both the agents’ faces, it had been the right thing to do. It was the only time she’d seen Mr. Chmielewski smile. But then, as they were leaving, he turned and gave her a suspicious look that had her entire body trembling as she closed the door.
She took a deep breath of relief now that it was over. Then she remembered Barry, waiting at the coffee shop. She went to call him. He might as well come back and eat the lunch he’d brought, and they could talk while they ate. “I’ll tell the doorman you dropped off an extra order and you’re coming back to get it.”
She smiled as she hung up. Their friendship was as comfortable as the knit booties she wore around the house in place of slippers, but she didn’t expect it to last. His court date was scheduled for the second week in November, and Genevieve expected that once his divorce came through their contact would lessen. He’d start to date again and would slowly fade from her life. But she’d never forget his willingness to help her.
She had to admit that Barry’s plan to get to her condo by pretending to be a delivery man had been ingenious, just ill-timed.
By the time he rang the doorbell, she had the small bistro table in the kitchen all set, with their food warmed and on the plates.
He took in her crutches and wrapped ankle. “You really got pummeled, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but at least I don’t need the arm sling anymore, and the cut on my leg has healed.”
“Did they ever catch the dude?”
“Yes, at the hospital the policeman told us they had someone in custody.”
“Us?”
Too late, Genevieve realized her error. She always tried to creep around the topic of Dexter, aware it was still very much a sore spot for Barry. “Um...my husband came to the hospital. The policeman who questioned me was a little suspicious when I didn’t know his phone number, so we decided it would be best if he made a personal appearance.” She decided not to clarify that Dexter had actually come to the emergency room on his own, with no prompting...or that he’d shown genuine concern for her.
He grunted, then changed the subject. “How did it go with the INS?”
“Good, I think. I’d been rehearsing what I was going to say.”
“Did they mention the postcard you sent the super?”
“Oh, yes,” she said as she swallowed a bite of sandwich. “But I had an excuse all ready. I told them I learned you’d been cheating on me and that I broke it off before we got married, and then I had a whirlwind romance with someone new.”
“I don’t know, Gen. That sounds awfully lame to me.”
“I think it sounded better when I told it to them than it did right now. The woman seemed to go for it. I’m not so sure about the man.”
They were enjoying some after-lunch chitchat when the doorbell rang. They exchanged glances. “Are you expecting someone?” he asked.
“No.”
He started to get up. “I’ll get it.”
“No,” she said quickly. “Maybe the agents came back for something. I could never explain your being here, so stay in here, huh?”
Barry reluctantly agreed.
She hobbled to the door. “Who is it?” she called out cautiously.
“It’s me. Dexter.”
Chapter 21
“Dexter!”
She heard his chuckle through the door. “Are you going to let me in, or are we going to talk out here?”
Genevieve glanced back toward the kitchen where Barry waited and felt a disaster coming on. She maneuvered a few steps backward and opened the door. “I thought you were going to call.”
“I was, but then I had this overwhelming need to see you, Jenny.” He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “I know you were just putting on for the agents, but when you said what you said...”
That she loved him.
“...even as a pretense, I just...” Before Genevieve knew what was happening, he had gathered her in his arms and claimed her lips.
Her arms went around him, and she kissed him hungrily, all but forgetting Barry.
The sound of her crutches falling to the floor brought her to her senses. She moved her arms between them and pushed against Dexter’s chest with her palms as Barry’s footsteps approached.
“You okay, Genevieve? I thought I heard something fa–”
A startled Dexter broke the kiss and looked questioningly at the third party whose presence he’d been previously unaware of.
“Who in hel
l are you?” he demanded.
“I might ask you the same,” Barry replied stiffly.
Genevieve, out of breath from Dexter’s kiss and unable to keep her balance without her crutches, had no recourse other than to lean against his tall frame. “Dexter, this is my friend Barry Henderson. I’d told him about my accident, and he brought me lunch after the INS people left. We were just finishing. Um, Barry, this is Dexter Gray.”
“Your husband,” Dexter finished, his unsmiling gaze fixed on Barry.
“So he’s the one,” Barry said, with equal suspicion.
Genevieve noticed that each man directed his comments to her rather than to each other.
“Wait a minute,” Barry said, his index finger wagging. “I’ve seen you before. Aren’t you the student who rents a room from Stan and Brenda Smith?”
“Yes. But I don’t remember ever seeing you.”
Barry didn’t acknowledge the remark; instead he turned to Genevieve. “I should have known you couldn’t have gone far to find someone to marry you. You met him when you roomed on the same floor. But there’s more to this than what you told me.” His steely gaze focused on Dexter. “What I just saw hardly looks like a mere arrangement to keep you from getting deported.”
“You seem awfully interested in knowing all about my identity and about my relationship with Jenny,” Dexter commented lazily. “Frankly, it makes me wonder why you didn’t marry her yourself.”
Barry was clearly taken aback by Dexter’s observation. “That’s none of your damn business.”
“As the one she did marry, I say it is. I don’t need your permission to kiss my wife.”
“Listen, you two,” Genevieve said sternly, holding out her one free hand as Barry stepped forward, clearly ready to take on the four inches taller, nine years younger Dexter. “There’s too much at stake here for you two to get into something and mess everything up. I think both of you should leave. Not at the same time, of course,” she added hastily.
Save the Best for Last Page 21