Caroline Cross - The Notorious Groom

He caught himself. “Forget it,” he said loudly. “It’s not going to work.” I’m not marrying Bunny-Boo Brown and that’s all there is to it.

He sounded so convincing he almost believed it himself.

Two

“Well, my dear, I’m afraid that does it.” Ezra Lampley, the patrician old gentleman who was Norah’s attorney, closed the file on his desk with a look of intense regret. “I’m sorry there’s been no word from Mr. Wilder. You’re certain there’s no one else you might ask?”

Norah shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”

“You looked through the personal column in the Sunday paper as I suggested?”

“Yes.”

“And you looked at your school yearbook, as well as the library cardholder list, and still couldn’t come up with anyone?”

She gave an apologetic shrug. “It’s...a small town.” She saw no reason to mention Nick Carpetti. After all, Mr. Lampley had looked frail ever since his mild heart attack last winter. Why upset him by revealing that her only other candidate was out of the running because his parole had been revoked?

The attorney sat back in his big leather chair, his thin face pensive. “Then we’re truly out of options. Which means,” he said heavily, “that sometime next week, Judge Martin will issue a decree and soon after that, Willow Run will go on the market.” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Norah tried to ignore the hollow feeling in her stomach. “It’s all right. Really. I know you did your best.”

His narrow mouth lifted in a caustic smile. “My best? I don’t know about that. It seems your grandfather has won after all.”

Norah was silent. After a few seconds, though, she hesitantly gave voice to the thought that had been bothering her for weeks. “Perhaps he was right,” she said quietly. “Not that women, in general, are incapable of taking care of themselves,” she hastened to add, “but that I’m not suited for such responsibility—”

“Nonsense.” The attorney wagged his finger at her. “Don’t forget who was really making the decisions the last few years of your grandfather’s life—and who did a fine job of it, I might add. No, my dear. This is merely another example of Arthur’s pigheaded insistence on having his own way, no matter who it hurt. And I, for one, think it’s a damn shame.”

“Yes, but...it is—or was—Grandfather’s property, to do with as he wished. And it’s not as if he’s left me penniless—”

“Hah! A trust. As though you’re a child, instead of a fine, responsible young woman who has turned out far better than the old coot deserved.” Lampley shook his head. “Don’t start making apologies for him, Norah Jane. Not after all the years you took care of him. And don’t sit there and try to make me think you don’t mind losing your home. I know very well you never would have agreed to my idea of an expedient marriage if it didn’t matter to you a great deal”

Norah bit her lip, not bothering to deny it. She did care. Yet she also knew that in his own way, her grandfather had trusted her to do the right thing. He might not have thought she was as competent as a man, but he’d expected her to be as honorable as one.

And up until last week she had been. She’d resisted Mr. Lampley’s advice that she marry now and divorce later. She’d been resigned to losing her home, had even convinced herself that it was probably for the best—until Chelsea’s disclosures about the Wilder finances made her think that a marriage of convenience might be justified if it helped someone other than herself.

Not that it mattered now, she thought with a sigh.

The sound was echoed by Mr. Lampley. Then, as was happening more and more often lately, the attorney’s eyes took on a distant look. “Arthur always was difficult, you know, even when we were boys. Brilliant with money, of course, but so stubborn, so autocratic, so full of himself. He had no talent for people. He got lucky when he married your grandmother, who was a truly exceptional woman. But when he lost her and Clayton and Jeanine in that auto accident, it soured turn for life. He was never the same. And you, dear child, have unfortunately paid the price.”

Norah nodded. She’d heard the tragic tale so often that sometimes it was almost as if she could remember the grandmother and parents who’d died when she was still an infant.

The lawyer suddenly straightened and sent her an apologetic look. “Forgive an old man, my dear. When one gets to be my age, the past sometimes seems more real than the present. And I must say, as much as it galls me to see Arthur win, it’s probably for the best under the circumstances. Despite your assertion to the contrary, Mr. Wilder was hardly a suitable marital candidate. I’m sure I’m not the only one who remembers the uproar over his relationship—” he grimaced with distaste “—with that teacher.”

“Nothing was ever proven,” Norah said earnestly.

Mr. Lampley made a tsking sound. “Need I remind you that both of them left town right after graduation? Proof enough, I should think, of their guilt.”

“So it would seem. On the other hand, there was no reason for him to stay. Not after his uncle threw him out.”

“Be that as it may, it hardly speaks well of his character that he returned to Kisscount without a wife but with a child.”

Norah couldn’t help it, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t agree,” she said quietly. “These days, so many men simply walk away from their responsibilities. I think it’s...admirable that Elijah has his daughter with him. It can’t be easy for him, even though Chelsea is a wonderful little girl. And she adores him, so he must be doing something right.”

The old man’s face softened. “You’re too kindhearted by far, my dear.”

“Oh, no. Not really.” Embarrassed that she’d revealed such intimate feelings, she glanced at her watch. “Oh, my, look at the time. I really should get back to the library.”

“Very well.” Mr. Lampley cleared his throat. “However, I would like to say that I know the next few weeks won’t be easy for you. If there’s anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

Norah summoned a smile. “Thank you. But you’ve already done so much. Unless...” She bit her lip, wondering if she dared to ask.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering...that is...” She took a deep breath. “Do you think you could call Security-TrustCo Insurance and see if anything can be done to expedite the Wilders’ claim?”

He frowned. “Well, yes, of course I can. But are you sure? You certainly don’t owe it to Wilder, and it might take some tune, which could prove expensive.”

“That’s all right.” It wasn’t for Eli, she told herself. It was for Chelsea. But Norah didn’t explain, unwilling to reveal her private fear that she’d gotten the child in trouble by telling Eli that they’d talked. She knew how angry her grandfather would have been if she’d ever confided family business to an outsider; she would have been confined to her room for months.

And she was painfully aware that Chelsea hadn’t been to the library for summer reading sessions since she had been to see Eli last week.

Norah swallowed. As much as she dreaded the idea, she’d already decided that after work she’d go apologize to Eli—and Chelsea—for putting them in such an awkward position. Her request to Mr. Lampley was simply another way to make amends.

“Very well. Is that all?” the attorney said, interrupting her troubled thoughts.

“Actually, I...I would prefer to remain anonymous, if that’s possible.”

The attorney gave her a searching look, then nodded. “Very well.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lampley.”

The old man nodded, they said their goodbyes, and minutes later Norah found herself out on the sidewalk in the bright afternoon sunshine.