An Indecent Marriage (11 page)

“He’ll never forgive me.”

“Never is a long time. Don’t be so sure.”

“I am sure. After last night I’m very sure.”

Maddy paused with a cherry tomato halfway to her mouth. “Last night?”

“I had dinner with him.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Maddy said accusingly.

“I’m telling you now.”

“Jessica,” Maddy inquired cautiously, “are you still in love with him?”

“Of course,” Jessica replied. “There was never any question about that.”

“I see,” Maddy said, looking at the ceiling. “In that case, you’re going to need your strength.” She tapped the edge of Jessica’s plate with her fork. “Eat. You’re appealingly thin, but a few more pounds and it’s going to be high-fashion time. And those models only look good on magazine covers. In person they look like Famine on horseback.”

Jessica picked up a lettuce leaf and nibbled at it.

“Oh, very good,” Maddy said sarcastically. “Everyone knows lettuce is such a rich source of calories.”

Jessica seized a roll from the wicker basket on the table and took a large bite, chewing energetically.

“That’s better,” Maddy said with satisfaction. “And we’re both going to have cherry cheesecake for dessert. It’s fantastic here.”

“Whatever you say, Coach,” Jessica replied. She worked on the roll dutifully for a few minutes, and then asked, “Maddy, did you know that Jack was dating Daphne Lewis?”

Maddy looked up from her plate and eyed her narrowly. “Who told you that?”

“Jean saw a picture of them in the newspaper.”

“Your sister is keeping tabs on Jack?” Maddy asked, fork suspended in midair.

Jessica shifted uncomfortably. “I gather she reads the society column or something, and she noticed the item. She thinks he’s...interesting.”

Maddy nodded. “Well, I can’t disagree with her. He’d be interesting anywhere, but in this slow burg he’s downright fascinating.”

“So it’s true?”

Maddy shrugged. “Even if it is, I wouldn’t worry about it. Jack could never be serious about Daphne.”

“Why not? She’s pretty and very friendly. You remember her, don’t you?”

“I remember that she was an airhead, and I have reason to believe that she still is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jessica, she’s our age and she’s been married three times. Doesn’t that suggest to you a certain...flightiness?”

“Maybe she’s had back luck.” Jessica, herself the recipient of some major doses of ill fortune, found it difficult to assign blame for a checkered past.

“And bad judgment. I heard she married some guy she’d known only two days because she liked his car, for heaven’s sake.”

“And where did you hear that?”

“Mary Beth Canfield,” Maddy replied, grinning.

“Now there’s a reliable source,” Jessica said.

“Mary Beth’s mother goes to church with Daphne’s aunt, and she said—”

“Please,” Jessica interposed, holding up her hand to stem the flow. “Spare me. I’m sorry I ever brought up the subject.”

“You brought it up because you’re afraid Jack has something going on with Daphne,” Maddy said. “And I’m telling you I’d bet money he doesn’t. Nothing of consequence, anyway. Jack has better taste.”

“I wish I was as certain about him as you are,” Jessica said quietly. “He’s changed so much.”

“He’d have to have a lobotomy in order to fall for Daphne Lewis,” Maddy observed with finality. Then she smiled roguishly. “Remember that Christmas pageant when we got stuck in the row behind her on the choir stand? And she was wearing that awful perfume that was making you sick?”

Jessica groaned. The memory came rushing back at her: the stifling heat of the choral gown, with its heavy folds and starched, tight collar, the press of many bodies grouped together on the rise of the bleachers and the cloying, overwhelming scent of Daphne’s jasmine perfume, filling her nostrils and choking off her air. The memory of the dizziness and churning stomach was so vivid she almost felt it again.

“I saw a bottle of the stuff in her locker later,” Jessica said dryly. “It was called Winds of Nature. Waves of Nausea was more like it. The pageant came very close to a surprise performance from me that night.”

Maddy was toying with her spinach leaves. “I just thought of something. You were pregnant then and didn’t know it. That’s why the smell was bothering you so much.”

Jessica met her eyes, then looked away, realizing that what Maddy said was true. It was the last thing on earth that would have occurred to either one of them at the time. Had they really ever been that young?

“So tell me about your job,” Maddy said brightly, shifting lanes with alacrity. “What exactly do you do over there?”

“Well, I represent an Italian leather manufacturer who deals almost exclusively with American retail buyers. They place orders for shoes and handbags and such, and then my company fills the orders and ships the merchandise directly to the States. I’m bilingual, so I’m sort of the go-between, translating for both parties.”

“I guess all the language lessons at those fancy schools finally paid off, huh?”

Jessica nodded. “That’s how I got started. When I was divorced I took a job at the New York office of the importer, and when they found out I could speak Italian I got involved in the overseas traffic very fast. One thing led to another and here I am.”

“It should happen to me,” Maddy said, sighing. “The closest I’ll ever get to Italy is a travel folder.”

“Want to trade?” Jessica inquired quietly, and Maddy met her gaze, sobered.

“Things are pretty bad, aren’t they?” she asked flatly.

Jessica didn’t answer.

“Are you on vacation now, or what?” Maddy went on. “When do you have to get back?”

“Officially I’m on a leave of absence, but it can’t go on indefinitely. I have a feeling if I don’t call soon and say I’m on my way, my position is going to be in jeopardy.”

“Well, maybe you’ll get some good news Friday,” Maddy said hopefully.

“Maybe,” Jessica said, unconvinced. It would take a miracle and she was long past believing in those.

The two women finished lunch and left together, promising to keep in close touch. When Jessica arrived back at the house the phone was ringing, and she rushed to answer it, leaving the door ajar. It was Dr. Schmitt, reporting that the new medication was working and her father’s condition had stabilized. He was still semiconscious, but for the first time Schmitt ventured the opinion that he might recover fully in time. Jessica had known this in the back of her mind, but hearing him say it made her finally realize that her father’s convalescence would be lengthy. He would probably require close supervision, and she had no way to take care of him.

After she finished talking to the doctor she got up and shut the door, returning to the living room to place a call to a local real-estate agent. She had been delaying listing the house, hoping that something, anything, would happen to make the move unnecessary. The money from the sale would be minimal, but she had to begin somewhere. She sat with the receiver in her hand, wondering which agency to use, when Jean came through the front door. Jessica hung up guiltily, as if she had been about to do something underhanded. Maybe she had. Jean had no idea how really grave the situation was, and perhaps she wasn’t doing her sister a favor by misleading her about it, minimizing her fears. The truth, when it came, would be hard.

“I thought you said you had practice after school,” Jessica greeted her.

“Miss Aynsley was sick, and her assistant couldn’t take over the squad,” Jean replied. “They just rescheduled it for later. How’s Dad?”

“Good news. The medicine is working and his condition has stabilized.”

Jean sighed with relief. “Does that mean he’ll be moved to a regular room?”

“The doctor said he would be moved in a few days if he continues to do better.”

Jean nodded. “Great. I’m going to get a drink. You want one?” she asked as she headed for the kitchen.

“No, thanks. There’s a carton of orange juice in the refrigerator. I picked it up while I was out earlier.”

Jessica glanced back at the phone after her sister had left and decided to put the call off one more time. Then she rose and went up to her bedroom to change her clothes.

* * * *

Friday dawned cloudy and blustery, a precursor of true winter, which was well on its way. Jessica donned a yellow wool dress, the color of lily pollen, and borrowed Jean’s dark green duffel coat, as her sister had worn her cheerleading jacket to school. After years in Italy’s mild climate, Jessica had no warm outerwear of her own. She got into the rental car with mixed feelings, anxious to hear the final word on the deal, but nervous about seeing Jack again. His behavior on their evening together had warned her of a difficult time to come.

He was waiting for her in Ransom’s office, dressed casually this time in tan cords and a thick eggshell-colored turtleneck. He stood up as she came into the room and took her coat as she slipped out of it. Ransom hurried in behind her, greeting both of them absently, carrying two string-tied accordion folders. He opened these, spreading their contents on his desk.

“Now let’s see,” he muttered to his two companions, who watched him soberly. Neither of them had uttered a word.

“I just have to add up this last column of figures,” the lawyer went on as Jessica turned aside, too restless to stand still. Jack followed her with his eyes as Ransom punched numbers on his calculator, pausing to make notes, and then ripped off the slip with the total.

“Now this takes into account the facility itself, with all the machinery, the inventory on hand and the goodwill,” Ransom said. He read the figure to Jessica. “And it’s a very fair buyout offer, I might add,” he concluded.

“Offer?” Jessica said bitterly. “Do I have any choice about selling?”

“No. Mr. Chabrol now owns fifty-one percent of the stock.”

“So let’s call it what it is,” she stated. “A takeover.”

The lawyer glanced nervously at Jack, who was receiving her comments impassively.

“Where do I sign?” Jessica asked. “I want to get this over with now.”

Ransom looked at her for a second, then said, “I’ll be just a minute.” He went out of the room to dictate a letter of intent to his secretary. Jack, still silent, moved next to Jessica, studying her face.

“I suppose you’re happy,” she said to him. “You have what you want.”

“That’s right.”

“And we’ll have nothing. You must be so pleased.”

“I am.” He put his hands in his pockets and leaned against Ransom’s desk, crossing one ankle over the other. “What will you do?”

“Do you care?” she fired back at him.

“Tell me.”

His tone was so intent that, without further consideration, she did.

“I’m going to put the house up for sale, but as you know it’s in disrepair and heavily mortgaged. Jean wants to go to art school next fall. She already has interviews lined up. It’s very expensive, but she’s so talented. How can I tell her there’s no money to finance her education? She has such plans and hopes for the future. I don’t want her to be disappointed the way...” She stopped short, aware that she was revealing too much.

“The way you were?” Jack finished softly. “How were you disappointed, Jesse?”

Jessica raised her eyes to meet his, stymied. She looked away.

“What if I were to tell you that there’s a way for you to keep the house, get it back into shape and send Jean to school? You can even hang on to a job for your father. When he recovers he can draw a generous salary, more than sufficient to cover his needs. What would you say?”

Jessica stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “How?” she whispered.

“You can marry me.”

Chapter 6

“Marry you,” Jessica repeated stupidly.

“That’s what I said.”

“You’re offering me a deal?”

“If that’s the way you want to look at it.” His dark eyes were fixed on her features, but unreadable.

“I’m not sure I understand the terms,” she said warily.

“Then let me spell them out for you,” he replied, straightening and folding his arms on his chest. She hardly dared to breathe, waiting for what he would say next.

“Right now, you’re completely at my mercy. When we sign those papers I will own everything but the house, which is worth almost nothing anyway. You will have no money to live, to provide for your father’s recovery, to pay for Jean’s education. I can, if I choose, announce an estate liquidation sale in the local press, post signs on your door, and do any number of other unpleasant things to indicate that you are cleaned out, flat broke.”

“That’s clear enough,” Jessica murmured stiffly when he paused.

“On the other hand,” he went on equably, “if you marry me, I will conceal the true ownership of the mill and allow everyone to believe that your father is still in control. Only Ransom will know the truth, and he is ethically bound to keep quiet about it. Your father can, as I said, draw a salary and pretend that things are still the same. In fact they will be substantially improved, since my cash outlay will revitalize the business and my competition will be eliminated. I will repair the house, pay your father’s expenses and finance Jean’s education. No one will know about this transaction. The Portman name will be saved.”