by Natasha Boyd
Isabel Montgomery laughs bitterly. “I know I’m disliked. Feared. I cultivated that as a way of respect. But as the years go by, I find it harder and harder to remember why it all seemed so important that you all went to the right schools and knew the right people and didn’t consort with the wrong sort of people. For what purpose? To make my ancestors happy? Ha !”
There’s that word that no one should ever use in real life because it’s completely ridiculous, but I find myself thinking it fits perfectly—I am gobsmacked .
Grandmother sniffs and takes a sip of her tea, wincing at the bite of brandy and then sighing contentedly. “Perfect,” she says .
“Just so you know,” I manage when I find my voice, “I respect you because you are my elder and my grandmother, but I don’t make my decisions based on what I think you’ll approve of .”
Isabel snorts. “Don’t I know it .”
“No offense .”
“None taken. Anymore. But Beau, if you do find a wife to fulfill your grandfather’s request, please don’t marry some stranger for convenience. Find someone to love. Who loves you in return .”
I sip my own brew and enjoy the heat of the brandy in my chest. “That sounds idyllic. But actually, I’m in a bit of a hurry. I need to buy Rhys Thomas’ equipment and machinery before the end of next month. Someone bought his building at the marina. He’s been resisting offers for decades, but suddenly right now when I need time the most, he’s gone ahead and decided it’s time to sell. If I don’t get the money together, he’s sending it all to auction .”
Her brows furrow. “Surely he’d sell it to you with financing .”
“Maybe, but I hate to ask him. This is his retirement .”
“Beau, go speak to Mr. Middleton .”
I sigh. “I already have an appointment.” Visiting the family’s banker has been something I’ve been trying to avoid out of some misguided feeling it would mean I wasn’t doing things on my own. But I know I’m shooting myself in the foot by not going. He’s been dealing with Montgomery Family finances so long that he is, quite clearly, the best person to talk to about my options. “I wanted to do this on my own. I should have left to do this on my own years ago .”
Isabel leans forward and reaches for my hand. “It would have killed your grandfather. He needed your father and he needed you. Especially close to the end when he would handle less and less of the day to day. Thank you so much for staying. But now, yes, it is time you followed your dream .”
“Who are you? And what have you done with the fearsome Montgomery matriarch ?”
Grandmother blinks and grimaces. “I told you, she’s tired. And sad. She’s reassessing some things .”
Quite clearly. I’ve never had a conversation like this with her .
“How’s Gwen doing?” she asks .
At her question, my evening comes rushing back to me. Gwen’s teary-eyed anger and her kicking me out .
“I don’t know,” I answer, honestly. “She’s upset with me .”
“Why?”
I swallow. It’s been no secret my grandmother has never had much time for Gwen. I know it, Gwen knows it, everyone knows it. But I honestly don’t care right now. If Gwen had said yes, I still wouldn’t care what grandmother thinks of her. I’d be sad of course. More for Isabel than Gwen, at what an incredible person Isabel would be missing out on .
“I asked Gwen to marry me .”
Isabel, to her credit, doesn’t gasp like I half expect her to. She does pause with her cup halfway to her mouth and redirects to set it on the table instead, her hand unsteady. “And she turned you down, of course .”
“How do you know ?”
“Because she’s smart .”
“Thanks,” I say offended .
Isabel raises an eyebrow. “It’s true. Ask yourself what she gets out of it .”
“I would have thought you would have answered that yourself. I’m sure you’d think she gets the Montgomery name and family and all that might entail. Not that those things have ever interested her .”
“No, they haven’t. And maybe in the past, I found it irritating that she was unimpressed by our stature. In fact, at times I thought it was a ploy. But over the years, I’ve learned family and name don’t really deserve automatic respect. People do. And most people have to earn it. I think I like the way Gwen looks at life. Close your mouth, you look like a guppy.” She sniffs and reaches for her tea. “So what do you think she gets out of a marriage to you ?”
“Apart from my sparkling personality ?”
“She already enjoys that without having to marry you .”
I shrug and replay my conversations about marriage with Gwen, especially all the things she’d said tonight, and I start to imagine what being married to her would be like. Not much different. Maybe I’d stay at the condo more. In a flash, I see myself not on her couch but waking up in her bed .
Wait.
Hold on. I shake my head, and the brandy from my tea burns through my insides. Okay, it’s not the brandy .
Isabel is looking at me with interest. “So she doesn’t gain anything from marrying you that she doesn’t already have. Unless …”
“Unless what?” I grouch, feeling out of sorts .
“Unless you were offering her more.” She finishes her tea without looking at me. “Well, it’s late. I believe the tea has done the job. I think I’ll sleep like a baby .”
More . That’s exactly what Gwen said. Don’t you want more? Had I misunderstood what she was saying ?
“Wait, what do you mean by more ?”
Grandmother gently shifts her slippered foot from underneath Eileen’s shaggy head so as not to wake her up, then she levels me with a look. “Really, Beau ?”
Oh. “But that’s not … she’s not … I don’t …”
“You don’t what? Think she’s attractive ?”
“She is, of course. I mean — ”
“I’m tired. Turn off the lights when you’re done down here.” She pats my forehead twice in a rare and warm display of affection. “Night, Beau .”
13
Beau
P ost & Courier Newspaper
PERSONALS
Seeking fine pedigree Southern lady to wed
Someone looking for prestige of a name
Prenup
No romance
No children
Marriage within three days (depending on background check )
Divorce guaranteed within three years
No alimony
Bonus on completion
What the …?
I set down my coffee with a thud .
Isabel wafts into the kitchen in a cloud of Givenchy perfume and Aquanet hairspray. “Good morning, Beau. Picked up my newspaper from outside, I see ?”
“Did you know about this?” I snatch the paper off the counter where I’ve laid it out while I have my coffee and toast. I hold it up .
My grandmother pats her chest for her glasses she hung there on a string and then fumbles them onto the tip of her nose and peers at the paper .
I hold it patiently, my molars grinding .
“Since when do you read the newspaper? Don’t you do everything on that phone you carry everywhere ?”
“Not the point .”
“And you’re reading the personals ?”
“I wasn’t reading the personal ads, I was reading the classifieds. I always do to see if anyone is selling woodworking or boating equipment. And this is kind of hard to miss, don’t you think?” I jab the offending piece with my finger .
The ad is right in the middle, in its own box, about three times the size of all the others, and in bold type. There’s an email address at the bottom. Inconvenientwife at a well known webmail service provider, where it says to send head shot, measurements (measurements!), and reason for responding .
“Hmm. How ingenious. It wasn’t me. And are you sure it’s even about you ?”
“Huge coincidence if not, don’t you think ?”
“Have you asked Gwendolyn ?”
She wouldn’t. Would she ?
I fish my phone out of my pocket .
You wouldn’t happen to have placed an ad about my situation in the paper would you ?
Gracie: I’m still annoyed with you. I’m not talking to you right now .
Great. So text me. Did you or did you not place a personal ad about me in the paper this morning ?
Gracie: No. And isn’t there a Carly Simon song about that? And for the record I count texting as talking .
And yet here you are “talking” to me. And I’m not being vain. I add to her Carly Simon reference. You’ll know what I mean when you see it .
I smirk.
Why are you mad at me again? I forgot .
Gracie: Argh. Stop texting me .
Why? I ask, knowing that at this very moment she is probably flinging her phone onto the couch and hiding it under the cushions, which is what she does when she’s mad at something someone said or sees something online she wishes she didn’t .
“What’s so funny ?”
I snap my head up. “Oh, nothing. I don’t think it was Gwen .”
“Hmmph,” my grandmother says .
“Can I leave Eileen here while I go to the bank this morning? I have an appointment with Tom Middleton in a couple of hours, and it’s too hot to leave her in the truck .”
Eileen lifts her head on cue and looks pleadingly at Isabel Montgomery .
Grandmother sniffs. “Fine,” she grumbles and then addresses the dog. “But don’t go barking at every squirrel who dances past the window. I have things to do today, I don’t need to be jumping out of my skin every few minutes .”
“Eileen accepts your terms,” I say, fighting a grin .
I think my grandmother is growing a soft spot for Eileen .
* * *
Entering the bank building at 16 Broad Street is a step into history. As the oldest continuously operated bank building in the United States, they take their heritage seriously. I’m immediately greeted, offered something to drink and ushered into a waiting area while I wait for Mr. Middleton .
I’ve pulled on my least rumpled pair of khakis that I left stuffed in a drawer in the guest room on South Battery and raided my grandfather’s wardrobe for a seersucker bowtie and Sunday blazer. Luckily, I’m also the same shoe size as he was, and I can’t stop tapping the brogues on the polished marble floor. My toes feel like they’re in a straight jacket .
I don’t know why I’m nervous, I’ve known Tom Middleton my entire life, but suddenly I feel the need to impress, to fill these Montgomery shoes and show him I’m worth something. Worth investing in or taking a chance on .
My hand slips into my pocket to text Gwen even as I remember she’s still mad at me. I don’t like that things aren’t right between us, it makes me feel unsettled and off-balance. She’s always been there. I know who I am when I’m with her, and to think she’s somehow found fault in my personality makes me feel like I might not believe in myself anymore. I examine that train of thought. Is Gwen that tied up in who I am and who I believe I am? The thought is unsettling. And today, of all days, I need to believe in myself .
If I can get a loan based on my business plan, and not a wife, then maybe, just maybe, I can table the marriage thing until I’m ready. And maybe piece my friendship with Gwen back together while the damage is still superficial .
Before I talk myself out of it, I slip my phone out of my pocket .
I’m so sorry. What can I do to apologize ?
Though I’m still having a hard time figuring out what I’m apologizing for. I consider myself fairly smart, and obviously I now know she was offended I assumed she’d give up all her hopes and dreams of marriage and family just to help me out, but last night she’d been more than offended. In the almost twenty years we’d known each other, Gwendolyn Grace Thomas had never thrown me out. I’d like to say I’ve never done anything to warrant it, but I doubt that’s true. Something about what I said last night really got under her skin, and I’m going to have to replay that conversation in detail, or at least as much of it as I can remember, and figure out what triggered our fall out so I can try and fix it .
“Beau?”
I look up from absently staring at my blank phone. “Mr. Middleton.” I greet him as I hastily get up .
He smiles and stretches out his hand, and I shake it. “Call me Tom, please,” he says. “Come on through .”
Tom Middleton is tall and lanky. Close to retirement age himself, I imagine. He absently finger-combs his thinning gray hair that doesn’t have even a strand out of place .
We head down a short corridor with mahogany paneling and a plush rug that makes everything suddenly hushed and reverent. Several oil portraits adorn the walls .
“Past bank presidents.” Tom waves at them, then points to a grand one at the end. “And the founder of the first bank to be housed here in 1817, John C. Calhoun .”
I give a silent acknowledgment and follow him into his office .
“Have a seat.” He motions to one of the two leather chairs opposite his massive desk. “I’m sorry about your grandfather .”
“Thank you .”
“How is Isabel doing ?”
“She’s … fine,” I answer automatically. “Thanks for asking .”
“And you ?”
I nod. “I’m good. It’s an adjustment not having him around. My father and I had taken on a lot of his day-to-day work and now Trystan, my cousin,” I added to Tom’s nod. “Trystan will be taking a lot of that on, which is … good .”
“It will allow you to get back to what you love best, I assume.” He smiles at me again. “Well, he’ll be missed.” He pinches the end of a pair of bifocals out of his breast pocket, puts them on his nose, and peers at some paper in front of him. “Isabel had the estate attorney fax over the relevant page of your grandfather’s last will and testament but without explanation. Your grandfather sure had an odd sense of humor. I assume that’s why you’re here? How can I help ?”
I sit straighter. “Well, as you know I’ve worked for Rhys Thomas since I was a teenager. I’ve studied his craft as well as having my own boat-building certification from Cape Fear Technical College.” I clear my throat and proceed to explain my predicament and outline my idea .
“Can you get me a copy of your business plan ?”
I pull out my phone and forward an email to him immediately. Oh, it’s only a little project I’ve been working on for the last ten years. It is the most detailed business plan covering market conditions, threats, opportunities, sales goals, and growth plans I’ll bet he’s ever seen. “There you go. It’s in your inbox. I apologize for not having printed copies with me, I’ve been staying with Grandmother .”
“Please. It’s fine. I don’t miss the clutter on my desk. I love this new era of electronic mail.” I watch his eyebrows rise as he reads through it, and I concentrate on keeping my foot still .
“Well,” he says finally. “This is certainly impressive. How much have you saved ?”
I tell him the amount and he purses his lips together in thought. “A respectable amount,” he says and taps some things into his desktop calculator. “And I’ve been assured by Ravenel and Maybank that they don’t foresee any issues of clear title or probate in the inheritance assets. A loan against those future assets should be no problem, and you’ll be good to go .”
He smiles, then stands and holds out his hand .
“Wow,” I say on an exhalation of relief. “I’m getting the loan? That’s incredible. Thank you so much .”
My entire body hums with relief and elation. I get to my feet and grab his hand in return, pumping it up and down vigorously. I can get the business started and worry about this stupid wife hunt later when all the inheritance stuff finally gets wrapped up. I have to admit since Gwen said no, the thought I may have to marry a complete stranger without enough time for due diligence has been freaking me out, and I’ve tried
not to think too hard about it .
“You’re welcome, Beau. I’m so happy we could help.” He comes around the desk. “I’ll present it to the board and we’ll agree on terms and the interest rate. Simply come on back in here as soon as you have the marriage certificate and we can close the loan paperwork .”
I pull up short. Wait, what? I thought …
“Who’s the lucky lady?” he asks, oblivious to my reaction. “Say, what about the sweet little girl you always run around with. Rhys Thomas’ daughter? And gorgeous too, though you didn’t hear this old codger say that .”
“Gwen? No, I don’t think so .”
“No? Goodness, I felt sure you two would end up together anyway. And wouldn’t that have just worked out well—the aspiring boat builder marrying a boat builder’s daughter. A match made in business heaven. Are you sure it wouldn’t work out? I could foresee the board of the bank being very generous on terms if they knew your new business was going to have an alliance with such a well-known name in the business .”
“I’m afraid it will just be me. Though Rhys Thomas and I will always remain friends, and he will always be my mentor. I don’t have to marry his daughter to maintain that,” I add stiffly .
“Of course, of course. Oh, before I forget. I saw an interesting personal ad in the newspaper this morning.” He chuckles and shakes his head as he ushers me to the door. We step into the hall. “That wouldn’t be your handiwork, would it ?”
“Um, no,” I grind out my response .
“Huh. What are the odds?” He smiles and shakes my hand as he leans in with a wink. “Good luck, son. I know you won’t have a problem finding a lucky lady. Liable to be spoiled for choice, I’m sure .”
“Thanks,” I mutter. “But if you could keep it to yourself, I’d appreciate it .”
He chuckles. “I’m afraid my wife said all the ladies at her bridge club last night were already talking about it. You know how these things go. Take care, Beau .”