The Marriage Contract (2 page)

“Devin always
had a thing for you, you know.”  Ruthie raised her eyebrows and shined her
matchmaking smile.

“Thirty-five
seemed so old to us back then.” 

“Still is when
you're single, dear,” Ruthie returned. 

Some things
never change.

Cara rolled her
eyes.  “We were just kids, Ma.”

Kids or not,
back then they thought they knew everything.  Most of all, what they wanted in
life.  Devin was going to take on the world as a lawyer.  From the little bits
and pieces she'd heard over the years from people back home, and news coverage
on the tube of the highly publicized cases he'd won, he'd done just that, as a
prominent Manhattan defense attorney. 

Winning one
highly publicized case he'd taken straight out of law school, one that the
prosecution as well as the world thought he'd lose hands down, had propelled
him into the most exclusive law firm in Manhattan.  It hadn't taken him long to
make a name for himself and become a much sought after, multi-million dollar
baby of law.

Cara had her
own plans in which marriage had no part. She had to admit pride in the fact
that, like Devin, she'd reached the pre-set goals made that fateful summer. 
She had worked hard and become a home interiors expert, opening her own
successful shop in the posh Back Bay area of Boston nearly ten years earlier.

Looking at her
mother's bright expression, and knowing what conclusions she'd already drawn,
Cara said, “This was a joke, Ma.”

“It's in black
and white.”

“Blue and
white.”

“How many
assistants have you lost to motherhood already?”  

 “Four,” Cara
sputtered.

“In a month or
so, Louise will make five.”

The heaviness
of her mother's statement hit Cara hard.  Especially in light of the feelings
she'd been having of late. Forcing the thoughts away, she tossed out the usual
response she used when her mother started this line of conversation. 

“That's why I’m
not getting married.  In case you hadn't heard, barefoot and pregnant went out
long ago, Ma.  Women have careers now.”

“That may be
so, but look me.  I was so thrilled when you were born, I never once regretted
leaving my catering business behind.”

“My point
exactly.  You
gave
it up.”

Ruthie scowled
and snatched the card back, holding it to her chest as if it were the only hold
she had on getting any future grandchildren.  “That’s right.  The women of your
generation want it all.”

“You say it
like it’s a dirty word.”

“It feels like
it when I have no grandbabies to spoil.  Mark my words.  I may just get to see
your father walk you down the aisle before I die after all.  I think you should
call Devin.”

Cara cocked her
head to one side and blinked hard, trying her best to gather up her control. 
“I haven't heard from Devin in over fifteen years!  I doubt he hardly remembers
me.”

Even as she
said the words, she knew it wasn’t true.  She and Devin had been inseparable. 
Warmth spread from the center of her chest outward just thinking of their
friendship.  It had been a long time since she’d thought about Devin. 

Ruthie gasped. 
“Don’t be ridiculous!  Devin would never forget you.  If I know Devin, he’ll
keep his word.  He’ll honor this marriage contract,” Ruthie continued, as if
she were in her own world.  “You must have some feelings for him or you
wouldn’t have kept his card all this time.”

“I didn’t even
know it was there.”

“We’ll see.” 

The way her
mother clutched the card, fanning herself from mid-day August heat, Cara knew
this was only the beginning.  These next three weeks were going to be the
longest weeks of her entire life.

* * *

Devin Michaels
strode through the full glass door of his lavish downtown office in the heart
of Manhattan, success evident from his steady gait. 

“Congratulations,
Mr. Michaels,” the receptionist at the front desk said with a gleaming smile.

“Thank you,
Lucy.”  He walked by the woman without so much as a nod of his head, ignoring
the overt physical appraisal she made of him in his expensive suit as he paced
down the corridor, leather briefcase in his hand.  Despite his court win this
morning, his mood was growing fouler by the moment.  If will alone could kill
the bitter taste his profession left in his mouth, he'd have done it long ago. 
But the past few months of trying hadn't managed that feat.

“Way to go,
Devin.”  Kurt Langdon, an associate partner, slapped him on the back, and then
shook his hand, squeezing it with competitive zeal.  “They said it couldn't be
won, but then again, you always prove them wrong.  Victory is sweet, huh?”

Devin glared at
Kurt's hand on his shoulder until it was removed.  He'd become used to the
other lawyers in the office wanting to befriend him for the sole sake of
furthering their own interests within Wallingford, Collins, and McCaid.  Kurt's
transparency made him nauseous.  In fact, all of the vultures working in this
firm were circling the dead flesh, waiting for their chance to have their name
stand aside the big boys.

Devin had made
it his purpose to ensure his name alone would stand out before the rest. 
That’s the way it had always been, and what he’d worked so hard for all these
years.  He didn't know when it had started, but lately he wondered why he ever
thought that was worth fighting for.

Kurt cleared
his throat.  “We're toasting the big win in the conference room in fifteen.”

Devin nodded,
and then ventured toward his office door, hoping to find a quiet moment before
he'd have to pretend to actually be happy he'd won a case where the guilty won.

“Congratulations,
Mr. Michaels,” Brenda said softly.  His administrative assistant's soft brown
eyes twinkled admiration at him and forced him to smile for the first time that
day.  They reminded him of warm cinnamon brown eyes that used to smile at him
in his youth.  Years stood in the way of those memories.  Funny how, ever since
Brenda started working for him three months ago, those memories kept creeping
back into the recesses of his mind. 

Brenda shuffled
some papers on her desk and stacked them into a neat pile, which she cradled in
the crook of her arm.  She was green out of business school, and although Devin
had balked at the idea of taking on an assistant so inexperienced, she was
quickly shaping up to be an asset to him.  His reputation for being an arrogant
barracuda was one that made it a difficult position to fill.  Brenda’s
determination to keep up with him was something he admired.

He smiled his
gratitude.  “Thank you, Brenda.”

She quickly
grabbed her daily planner and steno pad, adding to the stack and followed on
his heels through the double oak doors of his office.  “You have a lunch
meeting at noon with the senior partners.  Mr. Ryan of Ryan Enterprises at two
fifteen.  Logan Hayward confirmed your squash game at three.  You have a
meeting with your Real Estate agent at four thirty to finalize the sale on your
Co-op.”  She took a deep breath before continuing, her pause causing him to
lift his head to look at her for the first time.  “Dinner with Cheyenne at--”

“Cancel
dinner,” he cut in, remembering he'd forgotten to take care of that loose end
himself.  Cheyenne Lewis, his companion for the last six weeks when time
permitted during his grueling schedule, had overstayed her welcome in his
life.  She was beginning to get too clingy.  “Send her flowers—I think she
likes lilies—and tell her...” he thought a minute and shook his head.  “I'm
sure you'll think of something, but don't make any promises.”

“Yes, Mr.
Michaels,” Brenda said, jotting the note in her steno.  “Today's mail is on
your desk as well as your phone messages.  Ruth Cavarlho was insistent-”

Devin snapped
his head up, his pulse quickening.  “Who called?”  He sucked in a deep breath
as if the wind had been knocked out of him after hearing the name.  When he saw
his young assistant’s startled expression, he realized his surprise was evident
in the way he’d barked at her. 

“Ruth
Cavarlho,” she repeated, darting her gaze from his face to her steno, her hand
still poised in place for the next instruction.  Then back again. 

It wasn’t like
him to unravel in front of anyone.  He’d be damned if he’d start today.

“That'll be
all, Brenda,” he said, straightening his spine and pushing strength into his
voice as he spoke.  A pen on his desk suddenly became his anchor and he gripped
it between the pads of this fingers until Brenda nodded.

“Yes, Mr.
Michaels.”  She turned and walked to the wide oak double doors and added,
“They're toasting in-”

“Fifteen.”  He
pushed up his suit jacket sleeve and glanced at the gleaming gold watch on his
wrist.  “Ten minutes.  Call me.  And get Ruthie Cavarlho on the phone for me,
please.” 

The heavy door
echoed in his head as it was closed.  He sunk deep into his thick leather arm
chair behind his desk and swung the seat around.  Rubbing at his jaw, he stared
out the window at the hustle and bustle of people on the street below his
Manhattan office.  Everything seemed so small.  So very small.

For a man who'd
made it his purpose in life to remain frozen, void of emotion, he was thawing
fast.  To feel anything at all would mean death in the snake pit of a career
he'd willingly entered.  It amazed him that the mere mention of a name, the
thought of Cara could still trigger a deep emotional response to their
friendship.  The years somehow hadn't managed to wash that away. 

He leaned
forward in his seat and rested his chin on his steepled fingers.  The Manhattan
skyline had always been a source of inspiration.  It was his dream.  But
lately, he’d been far too unsettled about the career that had always driven him
hard.  Instead of thrilling in the victory of a court case like this morning’s
win, his mind eagerly sought out memories of those easy summer days with Cara.

He remembered
it well.  It was the summer before his father passed away.  Carl Michaels had
taken ill earlier that spring, told to get his affairs in order and spend time
with his family.  The elder Michaels had never been willing to take time for
anything other than activities he suspected would further his business
interest.  When they'd received the news his condition was terminal, the family
rented the same beach house on the coast of Westport, Massachusetts they’d
always spent summers, hoping to capture years of what they missed in what little
time they had left.  Before that summer, Devin didn't even know his father, and
when they finally had a chance to connect, he was losing him.

A bittersweet
grin tugged at his lips.  Although they were polar opposites in the looks
department, he was a lot like his father.  Cara had pointed that out to him. 
She saw it, even back then.  It was only lately that he could see the
resemblance.

Cara had been
more than a friend.  She'd been his rock, the one thing that he could always
count on to keep him stable while the earth beneath him crumbled.  When he
first saw her, he was instantly attracted to her cinnamon brown eyes and
chestnut curls.  The coral string bikini she wore wasn't half bad, either, he
recalled, thinking of her walking along the shore collecting shells, flaunting
assets she hadn’t yet discovered a man found so desirable.  And he had.

But it was the
friendship that bound them together.  It hadn't taken long for her laughter to
embrace him and, eventually, they’d become inseparable.

Devin chuckled
at the irony.  He'd built his reputation being a hard as nails, cut throat,
defense attorney.  Respected and admired by his peers, he was feared by his
opponent.  In one fell swoop, seventeen year old memories flooded him and
brought him to his knees like a spineless jellyfish.

The buzzer on
his telephone sounded and Devin swung around in his chair to answer the page
from Brenda.

“Mrs. Cavarlho
on line one,” she announced.

His heart raced
as his pushed the blinking yellow light on the phone panel.  Ruthie Cavarlho. 
Everything he remembered about her spoke of love and warmth.

“Devin, dear. 
It's so good to hear your voice,” Ruthie said brightly.

“It's been a
long time.  I hope everything is well with you.”  And Cara.  Tell me everything
about Cara, he said inwardly.  Look at him!  He was shaking in his shoes like
an eighteen year old boy pumped full of testosterone.  If only the vultures
outside his office door could see this...

“Yes.  How's
your mother doing, dear?  It’s been a few years since I’ve seen her.  She
doesn’t come to Westport anymore.”  Ruthie continued her small talk and filled
Devin in on the family's plans to move to Florida within the month.

“I'm sure
Harold is happy to be retiring.”  With a brisk motion, he slicked back his hair
in frustration, waiting for her to be the one to mention Cara's name.  A hot
fire burned in his gut as he waited, anticipating the news that she was
married, maybe with children, living happily ever after in the arms of another
man.

But no, what
was he thinking?  That wasn’t Cara at all.  The Cara of his memory was a carbon
copy of himself, driven in her quest for success.  She’d chanted over and over
again how she’d never marry.  But that was a long time ago...

 “Did you
receive Cara's card in the mail, yet?” Ruthie said, mentioning her daughter for
the first time.

He quickly
rummaged through the stack of mail on his desk, tossing each letter aside until
he found the thick violet enveloped.  “I’m just reading it now.”  He tore the
seal and pulled the cards--yes there were two, he noticed--and began to read
the first.

Happy Birthday,
Dev!

It's pay up
time!

Love, Cara

Confused, he
glimpsed the second card, finding it vaguely familiar, and laughed out loud
when he finished reading the back.  Lord, it felt great to laugh and actually
feel it!  “I can't believe she kept this!”  A strange feeling tugged at his
heart that she’d kept a keepsake of him.