Ally Blake - Marriage Material

‘That doesn’t seem fair. Maybe you should get Mr Fox to reimburse you.’

Romy could do nothing but stare. ‘Well, maybe I should. What he suggested was just plain ridiculous.’

‘I thought the makeover idea was whacko at first but it has kind of grown on me.’

Romy blinked. ‘Nothing gets by you does it, Gloria?’

‘Not a thing. And for that you should be thankful. But you will do it anyway, won’t you?’ Gloria asked.

‘Of course I darned well will. He practically dared me and you know I can’t refuse a challenge.’

And the guy was a clean slate. Malleable. If she could find Sebastian Fox, of all men, a woman with whom he would really settle down then it would prove that marriage could still work today. What a coup that would be.

And what an affirmation.

‘Though how you noticed his challenge when that fine butt of his was walking by I have no idea.’

This coming from the woman who the previous week had told all and sundry that all men were chief purveyors of low self-esteem in women. ‘I can’t believe you noticed his butt when that fine ego of his was walking by.’

Gloria shrugged. ‘Maybe there’s more to him than the dossier suggested.’

‘You do realise you are talking about a man, do you not?’

‘And what a man—’

Romy pointed to her office door. ‘Out.’

Gloria peeled her diminutive frame from the large chair. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

Romy shot one more look at her clock. ‘Send in Libby Gold and then as soon as she’s gone patch me through to Alan Campbell.’

Gloria turned at the door and shot Romy a cheeky grin. ‘Mr Fox’s lawyer?’

‘He just so happens to be.’

Gloria winked. ‘Shall do, boss.’

Romy spent the next fifty minutes with Libby Gold, who for fifteen years had been the wife of a man who had made a fortune in toothpaste. She was sweet, she was matronly and she had no idea how she had found herself in a lawyer’s office talking divorce.

Privately Romy was glad Libby had come to her as she knew she would take extra-special care of her. Taking her through the process slowly and surely. And taking her philandering husband to the cleaners.

‘But what does that make the last fifteen years of my life?’ Libby asked. ‘A waste? I cannot handle the thought.’

‘You can handle it, Libby, because it has not been a waste. It has been a grand lesson. For you both. He will pay for his mistake and you will come out of it with knowledge and experience and a tidy fortune to tide you over.’

‘What good is money if I don’t have Jeffrey? I can’t bake a favourite meal for money. I can’t rest my head on money’s shoulder while watching a movie. People are what counts. People are what makes your life a life. Money has no memory.’

What could Romy say to that? The poor woman’s mind was settled, for today anyway. Romy would win her around to the knowledge that the future was out there for the taking. That the man for her was still out there. And Romy had not lost a client back to their spouse once. Not ever. And she was not willing to start now.

Romy stood and patted her client on the shoulder. ‘See Gloria on your way out and she’ll tee you up for our next session.’

Once Libby was gone, Romy buzzed Gloria’s intercom. ‘Can you get Alan for me, Gloria?’

‘I don’t think now’s the right time,’ her voice mumbled through the black box on Romy’s desk. ‘We’ve had quite a spate of correspondence since you’ve been busy.’

She nibbled at a little fingernail. ‘Well, are you going to tell me what the correspondence says?’

‘Oh. Sure.’

Romy heard the squeak of Gloria’s chair and she ambled into the office with a fresh cup of chamomile tea and bundle of faxes in her hands.

‘What have you got there, my sweet?’ Romy asked.

‘Faxes.’

Romy took a deep calming breath. ‘Saying?’

‘The first came from Alan saying Mr Golf Pro has ceased services with his firm and to send any further correspondence to his new firm. And confirming usual drinks tonight at Fables?’ Gloria looked up with questioning eyebrows.

Romy nodded vigorously. ‘Sure. Go on.’

‘Next came one from Mr Golf Pro saying that he is coming on board with us. The header showed that fax was sent to all the partners as well.’

‘Of course it was,’ Romy groaned, feeling herself sinking deeper and deeper into the quicksand that surrounded Sebastian Fox.

‘Aah. Alan must have found out who Sebastian’s new law firm is. A few rude words in this one. I might keep a photocopy for the Christmas party.’ Gloria looked up at Romy, a big grin spread across her pixie face. ‘But this latest from Mr Golf Pro is something else again, for your eyes only. And it reads like…a recipe for the perfect woman.’

‘Give me that!’ Romy spat out.

Gloria kept a tight hold of the sheet of paper.

‘What does it say?’ Romy asked. ‘It says:

Dear Ms Bridgeport,

Further to our discussion I thought I would give you a running head start on our mission. In formulating the plans for my renovation, please keep in mind that I must in the end be capable of drawing an individual with the following non-negotiable criteria:

Easy on the eye

Able to string a sentence together

Must at least reach my chin when not in heels (old back injury means I cannot bend my neck for prolonged periods of time)

Employed

Hope that gives you somewhere to start.

Cheers, Sebastian.’

Well. He’d said he was willing and able with a bevy of ideas and it looked as though this could be the first. How helpful. What had she got herself into?

Gloria slumped into the guest chair, her eyes brimming with tears of laughter. ‘Is he for real?’

‘I’m afraid I really could not tell you.’

‘If you had to make a list outlining the perfect man, what would it be?’

‘Are you for real?’

Gloria pursed her lips and Romy knew it was either answer or be badgered for…forever.

‘If I had to reduce someone to a list, my perfect partner would be serious, committed, optimistic, thoughtful and kind. He would remember my parents’ birthdays and give up his window seat in a plane.’

Gloria grimaced. ‘Sounds more like the qualities of a good priest than a good husband. But unfortunately I can picture who you are describing without even thinking about it.’

So could Romy and for that she was infinitely thankful. ‘At least it’s a tad more specific than that rubbish. How about you?’

‘Did you not hear me regale you concerning Mr Fox’s glorious butt an hour ago? And now I see there is a devious mind to go with it. Your Mr Fox is someone I’d happily bump into in a dark alley.’

If only the girl was not the most astute assistant she had ever worked with…

‘Don’t get ideas, Gloria. He’s not my Mr Fox.’

‘But now he’s our client?’

‘Looks that way.’

‘Fantastic.’

Romy expected Gloria, who refused to wear skirts or high heels, claiming they were a form of bondage imposed by men to put women at a disadvantage, of all people to be outright offended by Sebastian’s ridiculous list. But alas, she seemed to have quickly succumbed to the man’s more flagrant charms.

Gloria leapt from her chair and practically skipped to the door. ‘I’d be happy to take dictation for every one of your meetings with that one.’

Romy held her arms out, palms upwards in submission. ‘If it will make your day.’

‘Romy, that would make my year.’

Sebastian sat back in a dark leather chair in the office he kept in a cottage in the back yard of his Hawthorn home. He’d been in there all afternoon, catching up on correspondence, including forwarding the paperwork necessary to clear up his change of legal representation.