The Marriage Contract

by Rose Wulf

  ****

  Ophelia clutched the cup of peppermint-infused chocolate and espresso tight in one hand as she waited for her grandmother to arrive. They were supposed to meet Keith at eleven. Grandma had decided to just meet there, instead of carpooling, and Ophelia hadn’t argued—it would be that much easier to escape if she wasn’t responsible for escorting the elderly woman anywhere. She saw now what the flaw in that plan was. Escape had to wait until after the appointment—and the appointment wouldn’t officially start until Grandma Yvette bothered to show up.

  “Should you call her?” Keith asked. He sounded genuinely concerned. Ophelia did appreciate that, even if she knew in her gut his concern was unnecessary.

  “She won’t answer when she’s driving,” Ophelia said, as it was the truth. “I’m sure she’s almost here. She probably got turned around, since she’s not used to this part of town.” There actually was a chance of that, and if it turned out to be that, Ophelia would feel bad for assuming something worse. She offered Keith an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about this.”

  He returned her smile easily. “It’s nothing,” he said. “I don’t have anything to do. As long as you’re not worried, I won’t worry.” He paused. “I think I’ve got a folding chair in my trunk, if you want to sit down while we wait?”

  Ophelia stared at him for a moment. She found herself fighting a laugh. “No, thank you, I’m fine.” She sipped at her quickly emptying drink. “Why do you keep a folding chair in your car?”

  Keith tucked his hands into his pockets and leaned against the wall beside the door. “Kind of for situations like this, actually,” he said. “The first time I showed the house, the person was a no-show, but I waited nearly an hour before I gave up. I had nowhere to sit the entire time. So I picked up a chair at a party store and stuck it in my car.”

  Ophelia grinned. “I would’ve left the door open and gone and sat on the counter.” Well, that or she’d have sat on air, but she wasn’t going to say that part.

  He laughed. “That never occurred to me,” he admitted. He returned her brief grin. “Is that what you’d rather do, then?”

  Just like that, she regretted her flippant comment. She didn’t have a lot of experience being the focus of unwanted advances—she’d done a good job of flying under the radar—but she wasn’t naïve. Putting herself in the situation of being alone in an empty house with a man who’d already blatantly expressed his attraction to her was not something she needed to be doing. Whether or not she thought he’d try anything. She arguably shouldn’t be speaking to him at all, but her grandmother had put her in a difficult situation.

  The same grandmother who was nearly fifteen minutes late.

  “Oh, wait, is that her?” Keith asked, saving Ophelia from having to answer his previous suggestion.

  She pulled her attention outward and looked down the street. Sure enough, finally sliding in at the curb behind Ophelia’s mid-size SUV was Grandma Yvette in her treasured Buick convertible. “Yes,” Ophelia said. “That’s her.”

  Keith leaned in, lowering his voice unnecessarily, and asked, “What color is that?”

  Ophelia fought the cringe that wanted to follow. He referred to the shiny paint on her grandmother’s car, she was certain. “Seafoam,” she whispered back. “It’s her favorite color. It might as well be sacred.”

  His shoulders shook as he tried not to laugh and he straightened. “I see,” he said. He was a wiser man than she if he actually got it.

  Gulping down the rest of her coffee, Ophelia started down the driveway. She detoured to toss her drink into the curbside garbage bin before joining her grandmother at the side of the car. “I was starting to think you were ditching,” she said, pretending to joke for the sake of their audience.

  Yvette laughed and patted her large handbag. “I got all the way to the interstate, then realized I forgot my measuring tape!”

  Ophelia pursed her lips.

  “Well, it would’ve been okay if you had,” Keith said as they joined him in the driveway. “I have one in my car.”

  “Really?” Grandma asked, echoing Ophelia’s thoughts. “Too bad I didn’t know that, I could’ve been here twenty minutes ago. Sorry about that.”

  Ophelia opted to let it go, since it was entirely possible her grandmother really had forgotten the tape, and rested a hand on her Elder’s shoulder. “It’s not a problem, Grandma,” she said. “You’re ready now?”

  “I am,” Yvette replied, extracting her aforementioned measuring tape. She smiled up at Keith. “Lead the way, young man.”

  He bowed at the shoulders graciously. “It’ll be my honor,” he said before he turned and did exactly that.

  Ophelia trailed behind them, stepping last into the entry that passed as a foyer. If her grandmother did end up moving into this house, it’d probably be the smallest house she’d ever lived in. That was by no means a bad thing, but she feared it would be quite an adjustment for the older woman. I hope she knows what she’s doing.

  “Ophelia, be a dear and help me measure here,” Grandma Yvette called as they entered the sitting room. She gestured as she spoke to a section of the wall.

  Ophelia obliged. She’d certainly expected to be put to use in this way, since Grandma intended to measure spaces. So she took one end of the tape and moved as her grandmother directed. First along one wall, then another and another. The entire time, Grandma chatted—with her, with Keith, with both simultaneously—about whatever popped into her mind. The traffic on her drive over, what passed for music on the radio these days, the wonderful weather they were having. Surprisingly, Grandma made little effort to ask personal questions or push invasive conversations.

  It took them seemingly forever to measure every space precisely the way Grandma wanted, but by the time they were done, Ophelia had begun to feel optimistic. Yvette seemed to have come to her senses. Better late than never. She could end their now early-afternoon visit on a positive note.

  “Thank you so much for your time, Keith,” Grandma said as they exited the house. “You’re so patient with this old lady.”

  He laughed lightly. “Are you old? I don’t see it at all.” Twisting the lock behind him, he added, “Besides, it was my pleasure.”

  Ophelia felt her stomach rumble and surreptitiously checked her phone as the pair talked. It was nearly one already! How had measuring a few rooms taken so long? No wonder she was hungry. If she were a good granddaughter, she’d suggest her grandmother join her for lunch before driving home, but she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to risk dampening the positive mood she’d found.

  “Seeing as it’s about one o’clock,” Keith began, catching Ophelia’s attention, “if neither of you ladies has anything else planned, what do you say we grab something to eat? I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty hungry.”

  Crap. He might as well have just thrown the door open wide and invited all her concerns in for a party.

  Grandma’s eyes lit up right on cue. “We would love that.”

  No, we would not. But her grandmother seemed really interested in this house, and Ophelia didn’t want to jeopardize that. She could put her foot down later if she really had to. So she drummed up the strength to put on a smile and said, “Yeah, sure.”

  “Great.”

  That was how the three of them ended up seated in the outdoor section of a popular deli. Since it was a Sunday, it was crowded and busy. Ophelia had hoped they wouldn’t be able to linger, but Grandma had insisted they’d be fine at a smaller table. Her definition of “fine” was Ophelia’s definition of “cramped.” Three chairs pulled up around a table designed to comfortably accommodate two customers with a tray of food each.

  There was nothing she could do about it.

  Although Ophelia started to revisit that analysis when the conversation took the turn she’d feared. Grandma wasted little time asking Keith about his life. Was he local? What high school had he gone to?

  “Well, that explains why you and Ophelia never met!�
�� Grandma said with a laugh when he replied that he’d gone to the other local high school. It turned out he was also two and a half years older, so they would have been in entirely different circles regardless.

  Grandma asked him what he did for a living and Ophelia set her bottled lemonade down with a deliberate thud. “Grandma, honestly,” she said. “This is just a casual lunch, not an interrogation.”

  Before Yvette could respond, Keith laughed and lowered what remained of his sandwich to say, “Oh, I don’t mind. My gramps is the same way with basically everyone he meets. I asked him why once and he said he knows all about his own life, he’s more interested in hearing about someone else’s.”

  Ophelia stared at him with wide eyes. He liked playing twenty questions?

  Grandma turned a triumphant smirk to Ophelia. “See? He thinks it’s okay. You’re too stuffy, Ophelia. You get it from your father.” She sighed, shook her head, and added, “I don’t know where I went wrong with that boy.”

  “S-stuffy?” Ophelia repeated incredulously.

  Keith’s laughter returned, louder this time. “Come on, Yvette, she’s not that bad.”

  Oh, Gods, now Keith was defending her. Ophelia felt like sinking into the floor.

  Yvette pointed a chip at him. “You only say that because you don’t know her well enough yet. Just wait, you’ll see. Poor thing’s spent her life cooped up in a hovel.”

  Keith’s eyes widened, still shining with bemusement.

  “Grandma!” Ophelia exclaimed, horrified at the description and less-than-pleased at the not-so-subtle implication mixed inside.

  Yvette reached over with her free hand and patted Ophelia’s wrist. “Don’t worry, sweetie,” she said. “I still love you. No one’s perfect.”

  You’re telling me.

  “It’s okay,” Keith said, waving low over the table as if to calm the air. “It’s never too late to broaden your horizons.”

  Grandma laughed. “Look, Ophelia, Keith gets it.”

  Ophelia narrowed her eyes at both of them. “Well, aren’t you two a riot,” she said. “My horizons are fine, thank you.” They certainly weren’t Keith Butler’s business.

  “All right, all right,” Keith said after taking a drink from his soda. “Maybe we should give Ophelia a break.”

  “Oh, fine,” Grandma relented with a dramatic sigh. She nibbled on some of her chips for a minute, but Ophelia knew the conversation wasn’t over. She’d expected it to return to focusing on Keith’s life story, but Grandma took a different track and conveniently remembered a random story about Ophelia from her childhood. Something harmless, even endearing. The kind of thing a grandmother would be expected to talk about.

  Ophelia didn’t believe for a moment it was an innocent, coincidental flashback. She tried, several times, to change the course of the conversation. Sometimes less subtly than others. Every attempt failed.

  By the time Grandma dropped the M word into the conversation, Ophelia was honestly amazed it wasn’t in relation to her. Directly.

  “How is a handsome and funny man like you not married yet?” Yvette asked after some story Keith had told that Ophelia had only half listened to.

  Ophelia blanched.

  Keith jerked, as if trying not to choke, and laughed awkwardly. “Well, you know, I haven’t met the right woman I guess.”

  “But you do believe in marriage, don’t you?” Grandma asked nosily.

  Ophelia reached for her drink, needing something to distract herself, and found she’d apparently had that need too many times since they’d sat down. Her drink was empty.

  “Absolutely,” Keith said, no longer sounding awkward. “I also believe it should be respected, not treated like an experiment.”

  Grandma made a sound of approval.

  Ophelia wanted to agree with the sentiment, but she felt a twinge of guilt, because she wasn’t entirely sure her marriage wasn’t an experiment. Someone else’s, but an experiment nonetheless. Though it wasn’t the kind he surely meant.

  “People don’t treat it with respect anymore,” Grandma said. “A marriage should be sacred.”

  That was definitely directed at Ophelia and she didn’t appreciate it one bit. Taking a breath, Ophelia said, “I hate to break up the party, but I think it’s time I got going.” She smiled at Keith, reminding herself for the hundredth time he hadn’t done anything wrong, and added, “Thanks again.”

  “Oh, Ophelia,” Yvette started, pouting. “You don’t really have to leave?”

  “I’ve got a couple of things I want to get done today still,” she said. The statement was true, and that made it easier to say calmly. “We’ve been sitting here a while. I don’t want to run out of daylight.”

  Amusement lacing his voice, Keith teased, “You’re not afraid of the dark, are you?”

  Ophelia rolled her eyes. “Of course not. But I’d rather not drive in it if I don’t have to.” She leaned over and gave her grandmother a peck on the cheek. “You shouldn’t, either. Drive safe going home, okay?”

  Yvette smiled. “I will, dear.”

  Ophelia gathered her trash and pushed her chair back, simultaneously reaching behind her for the small hanging purse she’d brought with her for the day. Her stomach dropped to the floor when she curled her fingers over air.

  Her purse was gone.

  Chapter Seven

  Batson wasn’t terribly surprised to see Ophelia’s car absent from the driveway when he swung in Sunday afternoon. She’d wanted to be available for Alice, and who knew what errands she’d left for herself to finish over the weekend. She had no way to know he’d decided to come home early, and even if she knew, she had no obligations to be there waiting for him. None of that meant he wasn’t disappointed.

  He grit his teeth and pulled his keys from the ignition. Not only did she have no obligation to wait for him, but she also wasn’t fucking supposed to. In his twisted parents’ minds, he probably wasn’t supposed to be bothered about any of that, either. But what kind of man would he be if he wasn’t? “Goddammit,” he muttered to himself as he jumped from the truck and shut the door behind him.

  He had a truck full of camping gear—only partially used—to unload. But he also had phone calls to return because, of course, he dared to leave town for one damn day without telling every single person he knew. A smirk twitched at his lips when he pulled up the last text from Kipp.

  Never mind, apparently you’re camping. Your hot neighbor told me. You’ve been holdin’ out!

  You’re damn right I have. As if he’d share her. He wouldn’t mind being able to brag about Ophelia, but he would absolutely never share her.

  Batson typed out a quick reply to Kipp before switching from the conversation and putting in Ophelia’s number. One more annoying thing about their shitty marriage contract. He had to manually input her number every time he wanted to send her any kind of message. Instead of sending her a picture this time, he just sent her a short note letting her know he was back early. He didn’t have plans to go anywhere, but just in case, this way she would know.

  He still needed to return his mother’s call. In little more than twenty-four hours, she’d left him two voicemails. He shook his head, stuck the phone in his pocket, and told himself to call her later. Neither message had been urgent and one had confirmed she wanted to talk about the asinine anniversary party again. He didn’t.

  After chugging half a bottle of water, Batson headed outside to start unloading his truck. The job wouldn’t do itself and he needed the truck for work.

  ****

  “Are you sure it’s not in your car?” Grandma Yvette asked with a small frown as Ophelia’s panic built.

  “Yes, I’m sure!” Ophelia pointed to the extended upper corner of the chair back. “I distinctly remember putting it right there. Are you sure you didn’t see anything?” She looked across to Keith with not a little desperation. “Either of you?”

  Keith shook his head, lips drawn tight. “Nothing,” he said. “Although it was p
retty busy earlier. Someone probably could have slipped it off and carried it low. I’m sorry.”

  Yvette mimicked his head shake. “I must be going blind,” she said. “I can’t believe I didn’t see something like that.”

  Tears stung the backs of Ophelia’s eyes. Everything was in that purse. Her wallet, her phone, her car and house keys. Sure, she had frivolous things in her bigger, regular purse, but all the things that were truly important, she always took with her. She was pretty sure the little paper she’d written her Social Security number on was still in her wallet. Gods, whoever’d stolen it had everything they needed to utterly ruin her life.

  A warm hand landed on her shoulder and Keith gently said, “Hey, just take a deep breath, okay?” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “First things first. We need to be sure you can get inside your house tonight. So, do you have a hide-a-key or something? Maybe a friend has a spare and can let you in?”

  “He’s right,” Yvette said, standing as well and holding her bag tightly. Ophelia couldn’t blame her. “You can cancel your credit cards, get new ones. Your license can be replaced. Oh, I bet your phone was in there, too, wasn’t it?”

  Ophelia exhaled slowly and nodded. It wasn’t as if she had a landline. But she did have a spare car key, at home. She also had a passport, locked in her safe box in the closet. So she could grab her alternative ID and get herself to the police to report the crime. Except … what was she really reporting? A lost purse? They had no suspects. No one was going to be dumb enough to turn themselves in.

  “You’re right,” she said out loud. “It’s not the end of the world.” Though it kind of felt like it. She hugged her grandmother. “You should get going. I don’t want you on the interstate when the sun starts setting.”

  Yvette frowned again. “I can’t leave you like this.”

  Ophelia smiled as big as she could manage. “You can’t stay with me, Grandma. My couch isn’t that comfortable.” Not that her grandmother would ever consider such a thing. She wouldn’t come anywhere near Batson if her life depended on it. Ophelia wasn’t going to mention Batson actually wasn’t home. Remembering that, in fact, suddenly spiked fear in her chest.