Married by Easter

by Clare Revell

  But still a bloke, nonetheless. How did she know he wasn’t a creep like the other emails she’d received?

  She probably shouldn’t do this, but she would reply. “Hello, Nigel. I don’t make it a habit to advertise on sites like this, and I have no desire for a mutually beneficial anything with anyone. Especially when I know next to nothing about you. This is real life, not some trashy romance novel and a casual hook up.” She hit send.

  Chloe shoved the chair back, stood, and headed into the kitchen. Baking always calmed her nerves and it was Pancake Day after all. Setting up the tablet computer on the work top, she hit the music app. Country music filled the air.

  She pulled out the ingredients for batter and started beating them together. The griddle was almost hot when her email chimed again.

  “Hey, Chloe. Sensible woman. After all I could be the modern day Jack the Ripper looking for my next victim. But I can assure you I’m not. I have a firm faith in God, and have done for the last fifteen years. Perhaps we could meet in a public place to talk? Or you might feel more comfortable talking on the phone. Or if you prefer to pick the time and place that’s fine by me. I’m based in England. Distance no problem. I’ll come to you. How about Saturday?”

  Chloe bit her lip. She hated to admit she was lonely and this guy— “Oh, why not? If we’re in public and he is a creep I can leave. Caleb, you should know by now not to dare me to do anything. Signing me up to this site is the biggest dare of them all.” Her hands reached for the keyboard. She typed rapidly, hit send and then turned back to the griddle, pouring several pancakes onto the sizzling hot surface.

  ****

  Nigel’s breath hitched again as an email arrived from Chloe. To reply so fast she must be in the same time zone as him. Not that money was an option if she lived in Europe.

  “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” he read. “OK, a public place. How about the Three-Sixteen café in Headley Cross, Berkshire? It’s on the High Street. I can’t do this weekend as it’s my birthday and my parents are taking me out somewhere. So, how about three o’clock, next Saturday?”

  Part of him couldn’t believe it. Berkshire was a mere eighty miles inland. Not far at all. But a week on Saturday? That was almost two weeks into his timetable. But what choice did he have?

  One email later and everything was set. Why’d she pick Headley Cross? Did she live there? If he went there tomorrow when he was free would he find her? Would this crazy idea even work?

  3

  Day 2

  Ash Wednesday Feb 14

  Nigel watched the scenery pass as James drove him on a fact finding mission to Headley Cross. His primary reason for going was to find out where this café was for the meet in a fortnight. The drive only took two hours and once James parked in the town center, Nigel told him to entertain himself for a couple of hours. Maybe he should have driven himself. Oh well, too late now and at least he’d know where to go next time.

  He set off walking through the streets of the quaint town. It really was lovely.

  He was almost two weeks early, but had the day off work and there were never any lectures scheduled for a Wednesday. If he should happen to bump into Chloe, then so much the better; if not, then Saturday week would have to do.

  He found the café relatively easily and stood outside. It looked busy. His fingers ran over his jacket pocket, assuring himself the photo he’d printed off was still there. Nigel headed inside and ordered coffee before sitting by the window with the cup in hand. His phone rang. The ringtone indicated it was his brother without the need to look at the screen. “Hello, Archie.”

  “So, have you told Chloe yet? Set a date for the wedding? Chosen a color scheme?”

  “Not yet. I have plenty of time.”

  “Six weeks isn’t that long.”

  “I know.” He paused. “I emailed her last night,” he said, honestly.

  “Email?” Archie laughed. “Romance is good and dead in your life, bro.” The café door opened and a woman with brown hair came in. Was that her?

  “I’d better go, stuff to do. I’ll call you tonight.” He hung up and put the phone away.

  The woman’s hair was tied back in an untidy bun, and she wore gym sweats under the thick fawn coat. “Coffee to go, please, Lia.”

  “Sure, Chloe.” The barista knew her by name so she must be a regular. “How’s it going?”

  “Busy, but a good busy. I have ten minutes before my next class and need the caffeine.”

  Nigel drew the photo from his pocket. There must be more than one Chloe in town. What were the chances it was her? His heart raced as he glanced down at the picture, comparing the two women. It was her.

  She was even prettier in real life. He found looking at her quite intoxicating—another reason he’d printed off her picture. He hadn’t even wanted his normal glass of wine with dinner last night, so intoxicated was he with just how she looked.

  She paid for her coffee and headed for the door. If he wasn’t quick he’d miss his chance. He jumped to his feet and rose to open the door for her.

  “Thank you.” She gave him a long look before walking through. Had she recognized him?

  He followed her down the street, not really caring if he looked like a stalker. He was just a bloke walking along a parade of shops on a day off work. Where did she teach or attend class? Was she as young as she looked? Perhaps she was only the same age as some of his students. His heart sank. Perhaps she’d lied on the profile and was unobtainable. He couldn’t marry someone so much younger than him. Not even if it were merely an arrangement.

  She vanished into an old stone building. Nigel stood outside. For a moment he wondered if he should follow her. Should he take this chance or wait until their scheduled meeting in two weeks’ time?

  Before he could decide, the door opened and she came back out. She looked at him. “This is going to sound weird, but do I know you?”

  He shook his head. She had recognized him. That was a good thing.

  “No, well, not yet.” He held out a hand. “Nigel Turner.”

  She shook his hand briefly. “The bloke from the website. I thought I recognized you from that photo you sent. I’m Chloe Wilkes.”

  “Yes.” Nigel couldn’t tear his gaze away. “I’m eleven days early, I know.”

  Chloe looked at her watch. “And I’m going to be late for class.”

  “Are you a student?”

  She snorted. “I’m a little old for that. I’m the teacher.” She glanced around. “Look, come and wait in my office. It’s warmer than hanging around on the streets. Besides which, the neighbors know we have a lot of kids here, and they keep an eye out for strangers. Any bloke hanging around for too long gets the cops called, and I really don’t need the hassle today. I’ll be done in an hour and then we can talk. Did you drive here?”

  “The car is parked by the shops.”

  “We have a small car park around the back for parents and staff. You can use that to save you putting more money in the meter. I’ll show you the office first, that way you can come back in once you’ve sorted out the car.”

  “Thank you.” Nigel followed her inside.

  Ten minutes later, having called James and told him where to park the car, Nigel sat at Chloe’s desk, watching her teach through the long window. Ten children in leotards and tights stood in front of the bar, copying her ballet moves. Her own leotard showed off her figure to perfection. Tights covered her long legs, the combined effect leaving very little to his fired up imagination. He watched in awe, unable to tear his gaze away as she did things with her body that he never thought possible.

  Finally, she dismissed the kids and came into her office. She sat behind her desk and steepled her fingers. “So, Mr. Turner, I thought we had agreed to meet on Saturday week.”

  “We had, but as I had the day off I thought I’d drive up here and just look around. Find out where I needed to be on the twentieth. Running into you was a happy coincidence.”

  “I see.” S
he narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her chair.

  “So, if you’d rather go somewhere public to talk, then how about I buy you lunch?”

  “I have sandwiches.”

  Strike one!

  “Then, how about I buy myself lunch and we eat in the park.”

  Chloe glanced out of the window. “It’s February and freezing cold.”

  Strike two!

  He felt like a total fool. “It’s not raining.”

  She lifted her chin and looked him over. “OK. I guess just once won’t hurt.” She pointed to the door. “I need to change. I’ll meet you outside.”

  Nigel stood, hoping the fresh air would cool his burning cheeks. “I’ll wait by the car.” He left quickly, feeling about six inches high. He reminded himself this was just business.

  James got out of the car as he came over.

  “Not ready to go yet. I’m waiting for someone. Stay in the warm.” As James got back into the car, Nigel leant against the door, blowing on his hands. Then he did up his thick overcoat. She was right about it being too cold for a picnic. Had he allowed a pretty girl to addle his brain?

  Chloe came across the car park and pointed. “Seriously? A limo? Do you have a driver as well?”

  Nigel hesitated as James got out in full livery. “Uh, yeah.”

  “We’ll walk back to the café. There’s nowhere to park there anyway.”

  Nigel turned to James. “I’ll meet you back here. I’ll text you when I’m ready to leave if you want an hour or so.” He turned to Chloe. “Shall we?”

  As they headed down the side street, she looked at him. “You have a driver?”

  “I can drive, I just—”

  “Choose not to,” she finished.

  Strike three! And out! The little voice in his head was almost accompanied by cheers and applause.

  “Something like that.” He opened the café door for her. “What can I get you?”

  “Tuna pasta salad and iced water, please.”

  Nigel pulled out his wallet. “Sure. Grab a table, and I’ll go order.”

  What kind of a woman ordered salad and iced water in the middle of winter? He glanced over his shoulder as he made his way to the counter. He was about to find out and just hoped he wasn’t making a huge mistake.

  4

  It didn’t take long to order the food and drinks, then he headed across and slid into the chair opposite her. She’d shed her coat and was dressed in a smart jumper with a shirt collar over it. He set the drinks down on the table. “Iced water,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  He took a long sip of his coffee. There was a long, awkward silence. Then they both spoke together. He gestured to her. “After you.”

  “First, you need to know that I didn’t sign up to this ridiculous website off my own bat. My brother did it on my behalf. You see, he’s married and I’m not. He figured because I’m rubbish at dating, this would solve the problem.”

  Surprise filled him. “Why’s that? I’d have thought a pretty woman like you would have hundreds of suitors.”

  “Just one. Everyone thought he was perfect.” Chloe looked down. “He was anything but.”

  Nigel reached over the table. “Chloe?”

  She pulled back rapidly, putting both hands on her lap. “Please, don’t. I haven’t decided if you’re a creepy stalker or a decent bloke just yet. ”

  “Sorry.” He picked up his coffee in both hands and frowned. “Did he hit you?” he asked, reading between the lines.

  “He had a temper, but no, he never hit me. He had other ways of showing his displeasure, but I’m not getting into that. Anyway, that’s why I’m single. It’s safer.”

  “Well, on behalf of the male of the species I feel I owe you an apology. We’re not all like that, I promise.” He leaned back as the food arrived. “Shall I say grace?”

  Chloe looked surprised, but agreed. Once he’d finished praying, she picked up her fork. “So what do you do?”

  “I’m a Home Office pathologist. I also lecture part time for Bournemouth University.”

  “Impressive. I wish my lecturers had been as good looking as you. Do you teach pathology?”

  “Forensic science.” His cheeks heated at the fact she thought him good looking. That wasn’t one of the terms he’d use to describe himself.

  “Wow. Intelligent as well as good looking. Beats teaching ballet any day.”

  “Maybe.” He took a deep breath. “You looked like you were having fun though.”

  She stabbed the pasta and nodded. “They’re a good bunch of kids. But don’t you have fun?”

  “Can’t exactly call doing post mortems fun.”

  “Dead bodies? OK, we’re getting back to creepy again. Is it like—?”

  He shook his head. He’d never thought of his career choice as creepy, more medical, but perhaps it was off-putting after all. “It’s nowhere near as glamorous as the TV makes it out. It’s simply finding out why people died. It’s not always murders either. What most people don’t realize is that if someone dies without having seen a doctor for two weeks, a PM is just standard practice. Having said that, I do find it interesting, and get a great deal of satisfaction from it. Finally giving families the answers they need when something happens to their loved ones. I call it medicine with an attitude.”

  Chloe took a few bites of her pasta. For someone so thin, she sure had a healthy appetite. Sirens howled outside on the street. “How often do you lecture?”

  “Usually five times a week. Sometimes more if I’m needed to cover.”

  “But not today?”

  Nigel shook his head. “No. I took a couple of personal days and got someone to cover my lectures for me.”

  She grinned. “You don’t look old enough to be a professor.”

  “I get that from my students all the time. But it keeps the mind active and if I can excite the next generation of forensic scientists, so much the better.” He cut a piece off his steak and dipped it into the egg yolk. Steak, egg, and chips was one of his favorite dinners. “So, what’s secondly?”

  Chloe looked confused. “Huh?”

  “You said first, you didn’t sign up for this. That implies a second and possibly a third.”

  “Oh, right. Well, second would be my ex. I have trust issues now. I don’t feel comfortable around men. It’s why I teach rather than perform now. Leon was a dancer too; it’s how we met.” She paused, pushing the food with the fork. “So, why did you sign up to a dating site?”

  “Umm…” He picked up his coffee. “I was under the impression it was rent a bride. You pay someone to pose for wedding photos.”

  She snorted. “Not from what I read or what my brother told me. Did you even read the site?”

  The phone in his pocket rang. “Excuse me. Dr. Turner speaking.”

  “Dr. Turner.” The lawyer’s voice sent cold chills down Nigel’s spine. “I thought I should let you know about a letter that we have just found in your father’s safe. It’s dated the day before he died.”

  Nigel suppressed a groan. “I can’t come in until next week. I’m out of town today and really busy at work for the next few days.”

  “I can tell you the contents over the phone. The letter states that I have to be present at your wedding, along with six other witnesses, to make sure it’s legal and above board.”

  Nigel closed his eyes. He would really have to go through with this, wouldn’t he? “You will also need a pre-nup,” the lawyer continued. “One that states should the marriage end in divorce, your wife will receive nothing from the estate. After the wedding, a tenth of the fund will be released. A year later, assuming you are still married, the rest of the money will be yours.”

  Nigel groaned. “Fine.” He hung up and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Bad news?” Chloe asked.

  “You could say that.” He stabbed a chip and glared at it. “OK, I should be totally honest with you. I joined this site because I need a w
ife and I figured this was the easy option. Pay someone to pose for photos.”

  Chloe looked at him. “Don’t you have a girlfriend? Surely the local girls must be queuing up to date someone as good looking as you.”

  “I have a made up one. Don’t laugh.”

  Her eyes sparkled and she giggled. “An invisible girlfriend? Is she a cheap date?”

  “I said don’t laugh. I made her up to keep my father off my back. Unfortunately the terms of his will state I have to marry by Easter or I’m disinherited. I’ll lose everything—the house, the fortune that goes with it—everything.”

  “I see.”

  He scrunched up his serviette, tossing it to the table beside his plate. “That was his lawyer on the phone. A ‘fake’ wedding won’t do. It can’t just be photos. He needs proof so he has to attend the wedding.”

  “Easter is in six weeks. That doesn’t give you much time.”

  “Less than that now and that’s why I am doing it this way.”

  Chloe sat there quietly for a moment. “Has your invisible girlfriend ever met your family?”

  “No. She works in Inverness. I go to visit her but she has a very sick mother so she can’t come and visit us. Plus, she refuses to sleep with me until we’re married.”

  “Sensible woman. We have something in common.”

  Nigel looked at her. “More than you realize. Her name is Chloe. She has long brown hair and brown eyes.”

  Her fork dropped to the table. “Creepy again. So you picked me because I fit the bill and look like this woman you made up.”

  “Something like that.” He leaned forward a little, not wanting to crowd her, but not wanting anyone to overhear him. “What I’m offering is this. A contract, drawn up by a lawyer of your choice, which will override and predate any pre-nup my brother and family lawyer make you sign. You marry me before Easter, in front of at least six witnesses, and we stay married for a year. We then annul the marriage for whatever reason you like—probably non-consummation.”

  Chloe held his gaze. “And what’s in it for me?”

  He paused. “In return, you get your own bedroom, and my word I won’t lay a hand on you, apart from the odd kiss or hand holding for appearances sake. You’ll also get an allowance of a grand a month. Then after a year or so when we separate, you’ll get a payoff of a hundred grand.”