The Last Bachelor (5 page)

Ginger came back to their table, holding a big tray overhead. She set up a tray holder, then began delivering their food, the children's first.

“Ginger, that was very fast,” Vivian said with a smile.

“Thank you. Pedro is the chef today and he's very good.”

Amy leaned forward. “I don't see how you lift such a big tray. Isn't it heavy?”

“No, no, it's not heavy. Besides, I'm used to it.”

“I don't suppose you can sit with us?” Joe asked, sure he already knew the answer.

“No,” she said, not smiling.

“I'll be back here to pick you up at six-thirty, okay?”

She ducked her head, but she nodded before hurrying away.

“Well? Any ideas?”

Mrs. Turner frowned, but Amy suggested, “Whenever Bill wants me to agree to something, he waits until after we make love and I'm almost asleep. He figures I won't have much resistance then.”

“I think that's unfair of Bill,” Vivian said. “But pillow talk usually does work as long as it's something for her own good. Try that, dear.”

Great! The one thing he couldn't do was what they suggested. He'd have to try to talk to her when he got her home from school.

He'd already decided he was going to get her a car to simplify her life. He'd take care of that this afternoon. He'd already purchased a diamond ring for her, which he'd thought he'd give to her today at lunch, so eager was he to let everyone know about their marriage.

But he'd changed his mind. He'd give it to her tonight at home. Too bad he couldn't give it to her during pillow talk, as his mother had called it. He was beginning to find some things about this marriage that were decidedly inconvenient.

 

At six-twenty-five that evening, Joe parked in the side parking lot, near the door the hired help used. He'd been busy all day. He'd talked to the INS agents, telling them that he and Ginger were now married, and faxed them the marriage certificate. They told him he wouldn't need to visit them. They'd be in contact when they were ready for an interview.

Then he'd talked to the apartment manager where Ginger had lived. He couldn't get the man to return
the rent she'd paid for the rest of the month, so she'd have plenty of time to decide what to do with the sofa and table and chairs.

Last, but not least, he'd bought a car for Ginger. Now she wouldn't have to ride the bus or walk everywhere. He'd chosen a secondhand Honda Accord. He wasn't sure how well she drove and he thought he'd get this one for her to practice on. It was supposed to be safe and easy to handle.

At six-thirty, she stepped out into the late sunshine. He saw her pale face and knew she was exhausted. He got out of the car and hurried to give her a hug. “Hi, honey. Are you doing okay? Sure you want to go to school? You could skip class tonight.” Then he'd have time to talk to her.

“No, I can't do that. The math professor is going over the test we are taking next week,” Ginger said.

He hugged her close before he stood back. “Okay, if you insist. Did you eat dinner?”

“No, there wasn't time. We were very crowded tonight.”

“Honey, you've got to have some dinner before you go to school. I know, we'll stop by the condo and get that sandwich you made for my lunch today. It looks good. I didn't eat it because I wanted to see you.”

“Are you sure you don't want it?”

He smiled for the first time, glad to see some interest in her beautiful eyes. He led her to the car.

“This is not your car,” she protested.

“It is now.”

“You got rid of your beautiful car?”

“You don't like this one?” Had he made a mistake?

“No, this is a fine car, but your other car was wonderful, too. I just wondered why you would make a change.”

“I didn't,” he assured her. “I bought this one for you, so you can get to school and back safely. You can drive it tonight.”

She gasped, her eyes as big as saucers as she stared at him. “No, I can't. There's a bus that stops by my apartment. I'll go there and catch the bus.”

“No, you won't. If you want to wait until you get used to driving it, that's fine. But you're going to school by car tonight. One of us will be driving.”

“It will not be me,” she said quietly, and leaned her head against the headrest.

“Honey, you're just being plain stubborn about this. It's the husband's job to keep you safe, to provide for you.”

“But when I tried to do what a wife is supposed to do, you complained about it.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, staring at her.

“You said the wife's job was to cook and clean. I cooked all the meals this morning. I started your laundry and will finish it this evening. I'll find time to buy the groceries tomorrow and I'll iron the shirts, but maybe not until tomorrow evening, if you don't mind.”

“You're doing all this because you thought I ex
pected it? Lord have mercy, I wanted to make your life easier, not harder. You're trying to do too much.”

“No. I'm trying to do my share.” Her lips tightened, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared straight ahead.

Joe rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn't mean—Look, honey, when wives go to school at night and work full-time and—Well, that's too much. I have a maid who comes in and cleans once a week, and my shirts go to the cleaners every week. Your cooking is great when you have time to eat it with me. You don't have school on Wednesday night, right?”

“Yes,” she said quietly, as if she dreaded his response.

“Okay, we'll cook dinner Wednesday.” He started the car and backed out, assuming everything was settled.

“No.”

He couldn't believe it. “Why not?”

“Because I work late on Wednesday nights.”

He heaved a sigh. “We've got to talk about your schedule.”

He looked at her tired, unhappy face. “But not tonight.” He drew a deep breath. “Now, I want you to watch me handle the car. When we get to the stop sign, you can get behind the wheel.”

“No. I don't know how to drive.”

J
oe took Ginger to school, letting her out with a warning to meet him there after class. Then he went home to figure out what to do.

When he picked her up at ten o'clock, he still didn't have an answer.

“Did you get a look at the test?” he asked, as if he was only concerned with her grades.

“Not the test, exactly, but he told us some possible questions. But I already knew those things.”

“Good, so you don't need to study tonight.” He was determined to settle things this evening. He was too frustrated to let things continue.

“Not for that class. But I have that history test tomorrow. It's mid-semester, you know.” She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes.

“That's why we've got to talk tonight.”

She raised her head and stared at him as he pulled onto the road. “What are you saying?”

“I'm saying we have to talk. You can't work as many hours as you have in the past.”

“You promised!” She drew a deep breath. “I explained why. I need as much money as I can save in the event I have to return to Estonia.”

“You're not going to Estonia. You're staying right here in the U.S., as my wife, for at least a year.”

“I can't. Those men won't let me.” She turned her face away from him and leaned her forehead against the window. The temptation to pull to the side of the road and comfort her was strong. But he didn't. Instead Joe sped up, anxious to get her inside before they had their argument.

And he was determined to have an argument. He had promised she could continue to work, but he'd had no idea she meant to work seventy hours a week.

After they entered the condo, he nodded toward the kitchen table. “Go sit down. I'm going to get us both a bowl of ice cream for a snack.”

“But I have to finish the laundry. It needs to go in the dryer so I can fold it before I go to bed.” She started toward the utility room.

Joe caught her by the arm. “No. Not yet. We're going to come to some decisions.”

She pulled away from him, but he pointed at the table and she slowly sat down. “I don't understand what's wrong.”

“I'm going to explain.” He took out a couple of bowls and got the ice cream from the freezer. “I went to the grocery store tonight, but I only bought a few things. Ice cream was one of them. I hope you like cookies 'n' cream.”

She watched him but didn't answer. He looked at her, but he didn't try to coax a smile from her.

When he put her bowl in front of her, she didn't pick up the spoon he'd provided.

“You'd better eat it before it melts.”

She ignored the ice cream and continued to stare at him.

“Ginger, I know you're tired. But I'm trying to make it easier on you. Eat a little, please?” He gave her his best smile. He figured she'd prefer charm to him taking her in his arms. That was getting to be too easy—and too pleasant.

She picked up the spoon and took a bite. Then she looked at him. “What is it? Are you tired of being married to me? Do you want me to go?”

“No, of course not.” He took a spoonful of ice cream, too. “I just think we need to change a few things. When I said you could work, I didn't mean you could work so many hours. It's impossible to work that much, still go to school and be my wife at the same time.”

“I can manage.”

“When will I have time to teach you to drive?”

“I don't need to drive. I'll learn the other bus routes so I can get to school and home. I mean, here.”

“My family, and half the town, won't believe we're married if I let you do that.”

“Why not?” she asked, a confused look on her face.

“Because my friends don't ride the bus.” He knew that was a dumb reason, but he had to start somewhere. “Remember you were worried about me sacrificing myself by marrying you and I said it
would help me, that it would stop my family from trying to set me up with different women?”

She nodded, but she was frowning.

“Well, it won't help at all unless we act like married people.”

“Married people ride the bus all the time!” she exclaimed.

He sighed. “I know they do, honey, but my friends don't. They'll know something is wrong if I let you ride the bus.”

“Then I will walk.”

“That's too dangerous, especially at night. Haven't you ever been scared doing that?”

He hadn't expected her to admit anything, but she slowly nodded, avoiding his gaze.

“What? When?”

She bit her bottom lip, then said, “It was before. And he let me go.”

“You know who it was? Did you report him to the police? Did he hurt you?” Joe felt his heart beat faster at the thought of someone hurting Ginger. “What did he do to you?”

She only shook her head, not looking at him.

“Ginger, did he hurt you?”

“No, he didn't. I—I told him what he wanted to know.”

Joe frowned. Her answer didn't make any sense. “What are you talking about?”

Tears began running down Ginger's pale cheeks. “I betrayed my friend. I wasn't brave enough.”

He actually felt jealousy rise in him. “What friend?”

“Don't make me tell you, Joe, please? I promised myself I would never do that again, even if he used the knife.”

Joe stood and came around the table, pulling Ginger from her chair into his arms. “Honey, don't cry. Was your friend Daisy?” He'd suddenly remembered her talking about the other waitress, Daisy, calling her her best friend.

She began shaking, and the tears turned into sobs as she nodded.

He drew a deep breath and pressed her closer to him. “Someone threatened you with a knife to force you to reveal a secret about Daisy?”

With her head pressed into his chest, she nodded.

He couldn't imagine a secret about Daisy that would be that important, but he didn't really care. Ginger was his concern.

“You didn't have a choice, honey. I'm sure Daisy would understand that. Where did this happen?”

“When I started home one night, he was in the parking lot at the club. He grabbed me.”

“I think we need more lights in that parking lot. I'll see to it. But that's why you're not going to walk the streets at night. Or the daytime, either. I'm going to teach you to drive.” He waited for her response, but she said nothing. After kissing her forehead, he eased her back down into her chair.

“Eat some more ice cream.” He sat back down in his chair, too. “You see, Ginger, if I was truly mar
ried, I'd protect my wife, just like I want to protect you. And you're not going to be sent back to Estonia. We're married, and we'll stay married for at least a year. Then, when we separate, I'll give you money to help you manage.”

“No! You're giving me a chance to stay here. I can't take your money.”

He should have known she would respond that way. “Okay, then, will you help me? Will you pretend like we're married? I have money, Ginger. I'm going to have to spend some on you. But more important, I'm going to have to spend time with you, or no one will believe we're married.”

“But how can I—”

“By working a lot less at the club. I can't ask you to give up your school. You'd lose all the hours you've gone to class and studied. But I'll provide the money if you'll give me some time. For example, when they have the opening of the Men's Grill Saturday night, I'll need you by my side, not working. And I'll need you dressed in a cocktail dress.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he raised his hand. “My friends will expect it.”

“Your friends seem very demanding,” she grumbled, which brought a grin to his face.

“Yeah, they are. Remember, I grew up here. They know me well.”

“So I must ask Harvey to take Saturday night off? He won't like it.”

“Not just Saturday night. I don't want you working at night anymore. We'll need time to do some
shopping and driving lessons. Mom is already talking about a big party to celebrate our marriage. I haven't even told my godfather yet. He'll probably want to give us a party, too.”

“Who is your godfather?”

“Archy Wainwright.” He grinned when her eyes widened in surprise. “He and Dad are best friends.”

“But the Wainwrights and the Carsons started the club!”

“Oh, yeah. And you can bet they'll all be there Saturday night. Now, I know you're tired and you need to get some rest. I'll drive you to the club in the morning and change your schedule with Harvey. You can work five days a week, but not longer than nine-thirty to two. That will give us some afternoons to spend together, and the nights you don't have school.”

“But I won't make much money.”

“True, but I'm going to give you money to do things. You can save every penny you make. Go get ready for bed.”

“But the laundry—”

“The maid comes tomorrow. Do you want her to have nothing to do? Trust me, sweetheart. Everything will get taken care of.”

To his relief, Ginger nodded and went to her room. He'd convinced her more easily than he'd thought—mainly because she believed she owed him for marrying her.

He was beginning to think it might be him who
owed her. Life was a lot more fun now that Ginger was with him.

 

The next morning Joe got up at his normal time, seven. He slipped into some jeans and a T-shirt and headed for the kitchen, where he found Ginger making a pot of coffee.

“Good morning. I thought maybe you'd sleep in today.”

“I'm used to getting up early,” Ginger told him. “I think we still have a few eggs and some bacon. Is that okay for breakfast?”

“Of course it is. But it's my turn to cook for you.”

“You said the wife does the cooking.”

“Damn, I wish I'd never opened my mouth. You always remember what I said.” From what his friends told him, their wives never remembered anything they said. Not true of Ginger.

She smiled at him, relieving his mind. He was afraid he'd upset her last night. “You may make the toast.”

“It's a deal,” he said. “And after you get off work this afternoon, we'll do some grocery shopping. Then we'll come home and you can study.”

“You won't mind?” she asked.

As he answered, she moved to the refrigerator to take out the essentials for breakfast. “Not at all. What period are you studying?”

“The Civil War. It was a terrible time.”

“Yes, it was. We don't fight ourselves anymore, except for gangs, drug wars, things like that.” He
hadn't thought of those things as war, but he guessed they were.

“There is crime in Estonia, too.”

“Uh, yeah. But you're not going there again. Hand out the butter. I think I'll broil the toast, since we have time. I like it that way.”

Once everything was ready, they sat together and had a leisurely breakfast.

“I like starting my day like this,” he told her with a smile.

“But what about work?”

“Right now I'm finishing up a few little details at the club. But I'm thinking about starting my own architectural firm here in Mission Creek.” For months that idea had been floating around in his mind, but last night, knowing he'd need to stay here in Mission Creek for at least a year for Ginger's sake, he'd finally made the decision.

“You won't have to go to a big city to find work?”

“Were you worried about that?” he asked, seeing the frown on her face.

“Maybe. I don't want to leave Mission Creek. But you were living in Chicago, you said. I was afraid—I mean, you might want to go back.”

Joe smiled. “I thought I would, but now I don't think so. I've enjoyed being back home with my family.”

“They are very nice.”

“Yeah, if they don't tease you to death. I've got to go shave and shower before it's time to go. It's
only eight-thirty, but I'd better get started. Let's stack the dishes in the sink and leave them to the maid. She should be—” The doorbell rang.

“She's here.” He hurried to the door. “Come in, Maria. I want to introduce you to my wife.” He led the way to the kitchen. Then he realized what he'd forgotten. “Uh, Maria, I got married this past weekend. This is my wife, Ginger.”

He hurriedly got down a cup and poured some coffee for Maria.

“Oh, no, Mr. Turner. I need to start work.” Maria nodded to Ginger, but she didn't sit down.

“Uh, I need you to explain to Ginger what you do. She may have some other chores for you. In fact, I wondered if you could spare me another day. Maybe Friday as well as Tuesday?”

“Yes, I guess I can. Mrs. Wilson doesn't need me anymore.”

“Perfect, Maria. Talk to Ginger about what you do.” He leaned over and kissed Ginger before he slipped out of the kitchen.

Instead of heading for his shower, he went instead to Ginger's bedroom. It hadn't occurred to him that they couldn't let Maria see that they weren't sharing a room. He opened the drawers and closet and scooped up the few clothes Ginger had put in there and hurried back to his room. He was making a second trip when Ginger ran into him.

“What's Maria doing?” he demanded in a whisper.

“She's cleaning the kitchen. But, Joe, you don't
have to pay her to do what I should do.” Ginger finally noticed that he was carrying her books for school. “What are you doing?”

“I'm putting all your things in my room. Maria mustn't know we aren't, uh, sharing the same room.”

“She will tell?”

“I can't ask her to lie for us. That wouldn't be fair.”

“But why would they ask her?”

“Because they will think she'll know. Go gather up what's left and bring the towel you used.”

 

Ginger felt strange going into Joe's room. Not only was his bedroom bigger than the entire apartment she and her mother had shared in Estonia, but Joe wasn't in sight.