The Black Chapel (7 page)

After our gourmet open-faced sandwiches are brought in, Michael says, “Leave us.” The four servants depart. This lifestyle is very different from what I’m used to.

“So I thought we might say we met at the Portland Museum. What do you think?” Michael says.

“That’s a great idea,” I say. I take a bite of my chicken salad open-faced sandwich. It tastes heavenly.

“Are there any particular artists or paintings you are fond of?” Michael tilts his head and his eyebrows rise.

“I’m a big fan of Monet, which is fitting, since he’s been displayed now at the museum this last month. How about we met at House of Parliament Sun?” I say.

He looks at me like he’s thinking something.

“What?” I say.

“Monet, huh?” He takes a few bites of his sandwich and washes it down with some wine. “You intrigue me, Scarlett.”

“Really?” I intrigue him?

“You have a masters degree from Harvard, you love art, and you are all too lovely to be single.”

I blush and look down at my plate. “Well, I just haven’t found the right guy, I suppose.”

“Are you looking?” His blue eyes go intense.

I nod and I feel the butterflies flurry in my stomach. “Not actively.”

He squints his eyes. “I’ll hook you up with some of my friends after our deal has ended.”

My heart sinks. But I don’t want any of your friends. I want you.

Michael looks at me, his eyes deep in thought. “Let’s try something.” He stands up, reaches his hand out to me, and I take it. Shivers go through my spine when my hand touches his. He pulls me close, so close I can feel his rock solid abs up against me and he looks at me tenderly, almost like he cares, in the eyes. He leans forward and kisses me gently on the lips.

I feel tingles go through my whole body and I want to do so much more with this man. He presses his lips against mine again and this time his lips begin to move. And as my lips part, he eases his tongue in. Oh, he tastes so good. I hardly dare to, but cannot stop my fingers from running through his cinnamon, messy hair. His hands are now almost on my behind, and I am completely entranced in the moment.

Michael pulls away, his eyes ablaze. “I just wanted to try it before we had to do it in front of my mother. Not bad, huh?”

Not bad? I think. Holy hell, the kiss was twenty seconds of pure paradise!

He sits back down at the table, seeming to have forgotten the passionate kiss in less than two seconds, and bids me to do the same. “Now for the tedious details of our relationship.” We go over all the grueling details, and by the end I’m not sure I can keep all of them straight.

“It’s not too much to remember. Just be yourself and try to memorize how we met,” Michael says.

I try to focus as best I can, but all I can think of was how wickedly wonderful that kiss was and how I can’t wait until he kisses me again.

The lawyer’s office is one of those that look like they’ve won all their cases and then some. Every man in the office is dressed in a suit and tie, every woman, a business skirt suit. I’m glad I’m not a lawyer. Getting dressed in that stuffy attire every day would make me go crazy.

We sit down around a round glass table inside an intimate conference room and Michael introduces me to Paul, his lawyer. Paul looks like he’s a former NFL football player who has been cleaned up and stuffed in a suit.

I’m a little nervous because I’m still not one hundred percent sure I want to go through with the deal. I mean, what would I tell other men I meet about my divorce? Suddenly I get a sinking feeling in my gut. This is not a good decision. I almost say something, but the I’m interrupted by my cell phone ringing.

“I’m sorry,” I say and go to turn it off. But then I see that it’s the Mirabella Assisted Living Facility calling. “I have to take this call. Will you excuse me for a moment?” Both Michael and Paul stand up as I rise.

Once I step into the hallway, I answer. “Hello?” I hope my father is okay, and I nearly start crying because they’ve never called me before, and this must mean that something is terribly wrong.

“Hi, Ms. Hansen?” the lady on the other line says.

“Yes?”

“Hi. My name is Yvonne, and I’m calling to let you know that your bill is severely past due.”

“Oh,” I say, relieved to hear that my father’s not dying today, but stressed that I’m behind on the payment.

“Can you take care of this today?” the woman asks.

“How much is it?” I ask.

“Seven thousand six hundred and ninety nine dollars.”

“How come it’s so much?” I ask. Surely I wasn’t that far behind?

“This includes all the medication we’ve had to give your father because of his cancer.”

I know exactly how much is on my bank account and I cringe. I won’t afford the mortgage and my student loans if I pay this bill, and forget about food. I’ll have to empty my savings account—the very one I’ve been working on to save up for my dad’s chemotherapy.

I see Michael through the glass window, speaking with Paul and I decide one hundred percent that I am going to go through with this deal. It’s a heaven sent.

“I’ll have the payment to you soon. Can I call back in a couple of weeks? I’m just waiting for my paycheck to come through.”

“Sure. But we’ll have to add late fees, Yvonne says.

“I understand.” I hang up the phone and join Michael and Paul.

We go over specifics like what will happen in the event that Michael or I die before the contract has been fulfilled, and that one of us cannot sue the other
etc.
After two grueling hours, I can’t take it anymore. I excuse myself and head to the lady’s room. When I return, Paul has left and Michael is on his cell phone, clearly upset about something.

Michael glances at me when I enter. “I’m going to have to call you back.” He hangs up.

“Is everything all right?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says, but it clearly isn’t. “I think we’re done here. Ready to meet my mother?”

I take a deep breath. “Yes, sir.”

He looks at me, somewhat amused. “Sir?”

“I mean, honey.” I smile.

“That’s better.” He smiles, too, his dimples etched into his perfect face and I sigh internally. This deal definitely has its benefits.

Michael’s mother, Michael explains, is at Providence Portland Medical Center. She’s just there for a few days since the doctors wanted to do some extensive tests on her. He informs me on the way over that her cancer had started as lung cancer but that now it has spread throughout her body. He seems unusually callous, almost business-like when he speaks about it, and I wonder if this man has any tender feelings for his mother at all.

“My mother is a very straight-forward woman. She can also smell a phony a mile away. And if you waiver about anything for even a millisecond, she’ll know it’s a set-up,” Michael says.

“No pressure there,” I say, my pulse rising exponentially.

Michael parks in the parking garage and he turns to me after turning off the engine. “You will do fine. If you find yourself in a pickle, just excuse yourself and say you need to use the restroom. Or kiss me. I’ll take the clue.”

I nod and swallow. I envision Michael’s mom as a mind-reader and a control freak who wants to meddle in her son’s life. My hands are starting to feel clammy all of a sudden, and now I wonder what the hell I’m actually doing here. This will never work
.
I’m not a good liar.

Michael takes my hand and squeezes it. “You will do great, dear.”

I smile at him. “
Dear
sounds so old. Can’t we just call each other honey, instead?”

“No, that sounds even older. How about babe?” He smiles.

I give him a look. “In front of your mother?”

“Sure, why not?” he asks.

“Fine. She’s your mother. Babe it is.”

The hospital walls are pasty white and the smell of hand-sanitizer and linen hits my nostrils when I enter. When we arrive at his mother’s room on the sixth floor, the curtains are drawn. It’s dim. Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata is streaming from a CD player.

Michael walks up to his mother, who has a leopard print eye mask covering her eyes. He shakes her gently and she removes the mask.

A big smile brightens her tired face when she sees it’s him. “Michael.” Her voice is raspy, and I get the feeling this woman has been a chain smoker her whole life. “Please get me out of this place,” she complains. Her hair is perfectly styled, shoulder-length wavy and silver.

Are there hospital stylists? I wonder.

“Just a few more tests and you can go home.” Michael hugs her. “Mother, there is someone I’d like you to meet.” He looks at me, his eyes warm and welcoming, and I almost believe he loves me. “This is Scarlett, my soon-to-be fiancé. Scarlett, I’d like you to meet my mother, Diane.”

My heart is pounding against my ribs. I hope she’ll buy our sham, but then I feel a pang of guilt. I’m a liar! Smiling, I approach her. “Hi Mrs. Manning, pleased to meet you.” I hold my hand out, but she doesn’t take it.

Mrs. Manning does not seem pleased at all. She looks bewildered and looks back at Michael. “A
new
fiancé?” Her eyes narrow considerably, and I can tell she’s thinking Michael’s trying to fool her. “Pleased to meet you, too, dear,” she says, not looking at me. “Michael, may I have a word with you. Alone?” Her tone is harsh, angry even.

“Mother, I hardly think this is the appropriate time. I think whatever you’d like to say, you can say in front of Scarlett. We’re coming to ask for your blessing, and would like to be married next week,” Michael says.

I smile feebly. This will never work. What was I thinking? Michael didn’t warn me she’d be this obstinate. But then again, what the hell was I thinking? I should have put the pieces together myself and known this would happen. I mean, she’d have to be extremely gullible to believe our set-up.

“All right, then.” Diane coughs up a lung and sits up a little straighter in bed.

Now I can see Michael’s concern for his mother in his eyes, and it touches my heart.

“Can I get you something, mother?” Michael says, that helpless little boy coming out. So he is vulnerable after all.

“No, Dear. I’m dying as it is.” Diane takes his hand in hers, possessively, and then turns to me, her hazel wrinkled eyes unwelcoming. “Did you know Michael just broke up with his ex-fiancé?”

I nod.

“Mother,” Michael intervenes.

Diane holds up her hand as if to stop him. “I think you are the rebound relationship, and though the situation of my untimely death is extenuating, I don’t think he should rush into a marriage just to gain his inheritance.”

“I’m not asking for your permission, Mother, only your blessing. We will get married whether or not you like it,” Michael says.

But what if she doesn’t approve and gives the money away to charity anyway? I think. This will never work. There are too many holes in this plan.

Diane frowns and lets go of Michael’s hand. “Always so determined, my young Michael. But always so foolish. And I won’t allow you to dupe me into giving up the family inheritance.”

“Mother!” Michael’s eyebrows furrow and his eyes grow dark.

“You are very lovely, though, Scarlett. I can see why he proposed to you, if that’s what he actually did,” Diane says.

“I love him,” I say and look at Michael. The words, though surprising to me, don’t feel as false as I had thought.

Michael smiles at me. “I love you, too, babe.”

And at his words, I melt and smile. If only he really meant it.

“Well, we’ll see,” Mrs. Manning says, her hazel eyes turning intense and golden as she studies me.

“I hate to cut the visit short, but Scarlett has to get to work,” Michael says.

“Oh, where do you work?” Diane asks.

“Currently I’m a waitress,” I say, wishing now I had picked something more prestigious.

“I started out as a waitress myself before I got into Real Estate. It’s a very stressful job,” Diane says.

Michael comes over to me and takes my hand in his. “Thank you mother for letting us see you. I’m sorry we couldn’t stay longer.”

“It was a pleasure to finally meet you,” I say.

“If you truly are engaged, I’m sure I’ll see you soon again,” Diane says, her face emotionless.

We go back to the car and Michael opens the car door for me.

“I thought the meeting with my mother went rather well,” Michael says, right as he gets in the car.

“I thought it went horrible,” I say, still feeling Mrs. Manning’s judgmental eyes on me. “She’s so on to me.”

“She’s not on to you, and if it would have gone horrible, she would not have been somewhat open to the idea,” Michael says.

“She was open?” I ask, wondering if we had been in the same room talking with the same person.

“Yes, she said:
We’ll see.
That means she’ll be keeping her eyes open. The one problem with my mother is that she is an exceptional people reader,” Michael says.

“Couldn’t you have warned me about that before I met her?” I say.

Michael takes a deep breath. “I only thought it would have frightened you more.”

“Well, Mr. Manning, I like to be informed about what I’m heading into.” I scowl at him.

“You did great. Besides, you didn’t think a one and a half billion dollar contract would come without its challenges, now did you?” Michael says.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, thinking, yes, actually I did. “Fine,” I say. “But from now on, will you please just be upfront with me so I can prepare myself mentally?”

“Will do,” Michael says. We’re back at my house now. Michael gets out of the car, and opens my door. “May I come inside for a moment?”

My heart ceases to beat for a second. “Sure.”

“There is one more thing we need to go over.”

“All right,” I say, now very curious. We head inside and I close the door behind me.

He sits down on the brown leather coach and after I take off my coat, I join him.

“My mother will most likely hire a detective to follow you around,” Michael says.

“What?” My eyes feel like they’re going to pop out of their sockets. What about the strip club? Oh no! If she has me followed there, he’ll find out for sure, and the whole damn deal will be off. I consider telling Michael about it. No, I can’t, I decide. I need to find a way around this.