* * *
George moved around the wooden sawhorses and stack of drywall to the backyard where one of the workmen had told him he could find Jenny. Stepping over a pile of debris, he frowned at the ripped-apart house. No way was this worth all the money Gabe was plowing into it.
So it was on the lake? He could get the same house for half the price if he just walked across the street and up the hill a block. He shook his head; this lavish renovation wasn’t like Gabe. He’d never cared about comfort things or money. It must be her.
George rounded the corner and found Jenny hunched over her computer. Her fingers flew like pistons, punching the keys, undoubtedly crafting more lies. He tripped over the uneven flagstone and cursed. He looked up to apologize for swearing, but Jenny was apparently deep in concentration. He moved closer and tapped her shoulder.
She jumped, and then smiled. Putting a hand to her ears, she pulled out orange striped cones. “George. Hi.” She held them up. “Ear plugs, so I can work.”
He smiled and nodded. Without waiting for an invitation, he took the chair next to hers and fiddled with the envelope in hand. “I was on my way to the driving range and thought I’d stop by for a visit.”
She watched him, a tad wary. “Gabe’s not here.”
“That’s okay. I wanted to speak to you.”
She stood. “Can I get you something to drink? A pop or something?”
“Coke would be fine.” He followed her onto the new glass enclosed porch. The gas fireplace and the windows still had stickers on them, but the tile floor and drywall looked finished. A small refrigerator with plastic cups, cookies, and a fruit bowl atop it was tucked into a corner.
“The house is coming along.”
“It’s a mess right now, but it’ll be great when we’re done.” She raised her voice to be heard over the pounding, and grabbed a Ziploc bag of cookies. “Let’s go outside and talk. It’s a little quieter—at least while the landscapers are at lunch.”
He followed her back to the patio, and she pushed her computer aside. “I was just getting a little work done.” She opened the bag and held it out to him. “Cookie?”
“Thanks. What’re you working on?” he asked, trying to sound interested to put her at ease. He bit into the cookie, savoring the rich chocolate filling his mouth. Chocolate chip, his favorite. Was that pecans, too? He loved nuts. “This is great. You make them?”
She nodded. “I was finishing an article covering the Literacy Run next month.” She paused, watched him polish off the cookie, and then put her drink down. “But you didn’t stop by to ask me about work. What can I do for you?”
He eyed the bag of cookies. “May I?”
She tilted the open bag toward him, and then sat back, waiting.
He took a big bite of cookie and chewed it slowly. “Mmmm, you’re a great cook. My wife was a great cook,” he mused. “Gabe’s a lucky man.”
She didn’t answer, just sat patiently watching him, making him feel like a blabbering old fool. “Anyhow, I wanted to talk with you about your marriage.” He looked sideways at her. “You know why athletes and actors have agents?”
“To guide their careers.”
“Right.” He smiled. “And to take care of the money stuff. The talent like to concentrate on the job at hand and not be distracted by finances.”
Jenny sat silent, waiting. Her expression, polite.
“Well, Gabe needs an agent. He’s so busy with you and the house, and that new clinic job, he doesn’t have time to look out for the little stuff.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“So I’m doing it for him.”
“Doing what for him?”
“Talking with you about a prenuptial agreement.” He raised a hand. “Now don’t panic, just hear me out. A prenup is practically standard these days. With the divorce rate still at fifty percent, it’s only smart to play it safe. I mean, nobody gets married thinkin’ they’ll get divorced, right?”
Her blank look gave nothing away. She wasn’t nodding in agreement, and she hadn’t told him to go to hell—yet, so he pressed on.
“Grosse Pointe’s a small community. And...well, to be honest, people are talking about you and Gabe. Family, friends, colleagues—everybody. And frankly, honey,” he paused, tilting his head, trying to look honest and sympathetic, “what they’re saying isn’t kind. Because of the age difference.” He gave her a pained look. “They’re saying you’re marrying him for his money.” He paused for dramatic effect, feeling elated when her eyes widened in surprise. This might be easier than he’d thought.
“A prenuptial agreement would protect both of you. It makes sure that whatever you have before you marry, remains yours. It proves you’re not marrying Gabe for his money and shuts up those gossips.” George pushed a copy toward her. “Here. Take a look. This is only a sample, but I have a friend who could draw one up for you, if you want.”
She studied him with those spooky pale eyes, then reached out and took the documents. She held them, not looking at them, staring at him.
“What do you think, George?” she asked, sounding more curious than baiting. “Am I marrying Gabe for his money?”
“Me? To be honest,” he widened his eyes and leaned close, trying to look sincere. “I don’t know you well enough to make that call. But I didn’t raise a fool. My boy thinks the world of you and you make him happy, so I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
Seemingly satisfied with his answer, Jenny withdrew the fat document from the envelope. She leafed through the three pages.
Good girl. Keep reading. Maybe she was as innocent as Gabe thought, or maybe she was so blind in love she’d be willing to sign a prenup to shut up his fictitious gossips who considered her a gold digger. Either way he didn’t give a damn, as long as she signed one.
She read on, skimming through the stipulations. George leaned forward, reading with her. She paused, frowning, at the Presentation of Assets and Liabilities.
“Gabe’s father came from money,” he explained. “I don’t know if he told you, but he inherited quite a bit—not that that should matter,” George amended. “But it’s common knowledge among our family and friends.”
Jenny flipped back, skimmed through the rest before laying it down, her expression unreadable.
What was she thinking? Would she buy it? He studied her carefully. “You can have your own attorney draw one up, but my friend would do it for free—as a courtesy to me.”
“Why didn’t Gabe come to me himself with this?”
“Probably didn’t think of it. He’s been so busy with the house, and Teddy goin’ off to school, then there’s that clinic you got him involved with—probably slipped his mind.” George shook his head. “After Judith, he should’ve. A smart man would have. Or could be he hasn’t heard the rumors, or if he did, didn’t care.”
He shook his head and patted her hand, sympathetic like. “He’s a guy.” He made a disparaging face. “We’re really not all that sensitive. He probably thinks that just ’cause gossip doesn't bother him, it won’t bother you either.”
Just agree to the damn thing.
“But he’s not the one people are whisperin’ ugly things about.” Taking a third cookie, he munched appreciatively, pausing to let that sink in. “Well? Shall I tell my friend you’re interested?”
“I’ll think about it.”
His heart pounded, almost there. Now came the tricky part.
“Sure. Think about it,” he nodded agreeably. “But I wouldn’t take too long. People are talking. If you do go ahead, it would probably be best for you to have your side all drawn up, so Gabe can see you’re serious about it. He may be a bit testy at first,” he warned. “But once Gabe sees how much this means to you, I’m sure he’ll sign it, and then you can thumb your nose at all those jerks sayin’ you married Gabe for his money.” He cracked a warm, friendly smile, as if triumphant on her behalf.
Jenny didn’t look relieved or thrilled at his solution, merely
contemplative.
“I know you’ll do the right thing.” Beaming, he stood and pulled her into his arms. “You’re no gold digger. One look at that face, and I could tell you really loved my boy. Welcome to the family, honey.”
Of course you’re not, just ’cause you got Gabe to buy you that whopping diamond ring and foot the bill for a Hawaiian wedding for ten at that fancy five–star resort. Naw, you’re no gold digger. He resisted the urge to snort his derision.
Gabe wouldn’t be rushing around marrying her in secret if he wasn’t ashamed of being led around by his dick and being taken for a fool. Good God, I hope she’s not pregnant. His gaze dropped to her trim waist. Naw, Gabe wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Besides, he would’ve told him.
Gabe might be annoyed at this little intervention, but he’d get over it. Later, when she divorced poor Gabe, he’d be glad good old Uncle George had watched out for him. Again. Too bad he hadn’t thought of this for Gabe’s first marriage.
He should have thought of it then, but Judith never would have gone for it—she was too savvy. She’d been impossible to manipulate. Oh well, live and learn. Gabe would thank him for this one day.
He handed Jenny his friend’s business card. “Call Stan and tell him we talked. He’ll take good care of you.” George looked at his watch, then glanced at the bag of cookies. Damn they were good. Patting his belly, he turned away.
“Good cookies. Well, I’ve got to get going.”
She walked him around the workmen’s trucks to his silver Saab.
George opened the car door. “Jenny.”
She turned back, eyebrows raised.
“I can see how much you love my boy. I’m sure you’ll do the right thing.”
Jenny nodded, looking distracted. He’d seen her surprise and hurt when he’d told her people were gossiping about her. She cared what people thought. Where Gabe was concerned, she wore her heart on her sleeve; she wouldn’t want people thinking badly of Gabe for marrying her. A bleeding heart like her would get the prenup for Gabe; she’d want to protect him more than prove herself.
“Okay.” George climbed into the car and backed out of the drive.
That had gone fairly well. The girl might pull this off for him. She seemed open to the idea, and Gabe was so besotted he’d give the little chit whatever she wanted. And lord, she could cook too. He wished he’d brought a few of those cookies home for dessert. Adele would have loved that recipe. She loved her chocolate. She surely had.
Jenny watched George back out of the drive. All during the conversation, she’d studied him carefully, searching for some indication that he knew about her past financial troubles. She’d always distrusted pretty-boy handsome men, assuming they were adept liars, but George had the kind of craggy face that might more easily betray his true feelings.
Rather heavy-set with slight jowls and a thick nose, he wheezed with each sentence. His large head was mostly bald, except for the sparse salt and pepper hair above his ears and ringing the back of his head. A single tall hair protruded from a bushy black eyebrow, like a wiry antenna. He’d seemed sincere enough, but she still didn’t trust or like him. He might have known about her debt; she couldn’t tell.
Gabe wouldn’t have told anyone about her financial mess, would he? She’d paid off the last of the VISA, and lately she’d been diligent about only using cash and detailing all her expenditures. No, he wouldn’t have told George.
Jenny turned and walked up the drive. How rich was Gabe? From the sound of it, everyone else knew. Were the Harrisons old money? She didn’t need that complication. Maybe she should do some digging. She couldn’t stand it if Gabe thought she’d married him for money. Surely Mom didn’t think that, did she?
Jenny’d made some mistakes in the past, but they’d been foolish, honest mistakes, and she’d done her best to make up for them. She’d never be so cold and calculating as to marry for money. If Gabe even hinted that he thought a prenup was a good idea, she’d go along with it. She tossed the business card on top of the sample prenup. But she’d get her own lawyer.
Jenny wished she could discuss this prenup stuff with her parents, but she needed to take care of this alone. She sighed and blew out a deep sigh. Just when she was getting a handle on her finances, this expense had to come along. Legal fees would likely cost her another month or two—if she was lucky—of waitressing, but it was unavoidable; she wasn’t stupid enough to trust George’s crony.
Chapter 8