The Last-Minute Marriage

CHAPTER TWELVE

SHE sat on the fire-escape and waited. To say she felt ridiculous would be an understatement. What was she doing? Sitting on a fire-escape with a bag of bagels, waiting for a New York billionaire to come and share them with her?

Waiting for him to figure out what she was trying to do. Waiting for him to see that it was important.

Twelve. Twelve-thirty. He was running late.

Running late? What, was she crazy? Late for what? Late for his bagel?

The door swung open. And it was Marcus. He’d obviously just come from a meeting of some sort-he was wearing the lovely Armani suit she’d seen the first time she met him.

He was carrying his briefcase. And a shopping bag.

‘Good afternoon,’ he said gravely and she gave him a tiny, faltering smile.

‘H…hi.’

‘Bagels again?’

‘I like bagels.’ She knew she sounded defensive but she couldn’t help it.

‘Can I sit down?’

‘Sure.’ She edged along on her step and eyed him sideways. ‘Be my guest.’

He sat. He propped his shopping bag against the railings, set his briefcase between the two of them and flipped it open.

‘I brought my contribution. I hope to heaven it hasn’t spilled. Sam assured me the container was safe.’

‘Your contribution?’

‘Clam chowder and corn flapjacks. I remembered that you like them.’

‘I do,’ she said cautiously and watched as he hauled two bowls, two spoons, two plates from his case. ‘You want to share my bagels?’

‘That’s the plan. If you share my chowder.’

‘Deal.’

He didn’t say anything more. He served his chowder, they split the flapjacks and they ate. The silence between them was strange but not strained. The sun was warm on their faces. For now, they were content to eat and let what was passing between them hold sway.

It was a really strange meal, Peta thought, but there was such a warmth running between them. Such a force of…love? They were a foot apart but she could feel his strength as if he was holding her. He was smiling. He looked as if he was smiling inside.

Somewhere inside her, something started to sing.

‘Too bad if someone wants to use the fire-escape,’ she murmured and Marcus attempted to look grave.

‘They can find their own. This one’s taken. For however long we need it.’

‘It’s a shame we can’t settle here for ever,’ she said softly. ‘On neutral territory.’

‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.’

‘You have?’

‘This love thing…’ He set down his plate and turned to her. And waited while she set down her plate. ‘I’m not very good at it,’ he confessed.

‘You have the basic ingredients.’

‘Yeah, but not the recipe.’

‘I’m sure we could teach you. Me and Harry and Ruby and Darrell and Ted-dog…’

‘I think you already have,’ he said softly.

There was definitely a singing thing going on inside her. Marcus was smiling at her. Smiling with her. He wasn’t moving towards her, but he didn’t need to. This big, smiling man with the eyes that had seen far too much but had finally found their home.

With her.

She smiled back at him, and somehow… Somehow right at that moment she knew that it would be okay.

There’d be a place for them. There’d be some way they could do this.

‘I have a couple of gifts,’ he told her and her joy faltered a little.

‘Marcus, I don’t want diamonds.’

‘No jewels at all?’ His face fell. He felt in his jacket pocket and brought out a jeweller’s box.

Nestled on white velvet was indeed a jewel but this was no diamond. It was a twist-a knot of strung silver, breathtakingly simple and breathtakingly lovely. Embedded in the web of silver strands were three tiny sapphires. Tiny but perfect. They glistened in the sunlight, and in their depths was the colour of Peta’s eyes, the colour of the sea.

‘It’s a ring made specially for you,’ Marcus told her. ‘Because of who you are. Because of what you are. I know you don’t want tiaras and ball-gowns but I needed to do something to express my love for you.’ Then, as she opened her mouth to speak, he placed his finger on her lips. ‘And there’s more. I might as well get it over and done with. Show you the full catastrophe.’

He flipped up the shopping bag. Out tumbled…gumboots?

They weren’t just gumboots, though. They were gumboots with attitude. They were amazing-as if Frida Kahlo had used each as a blank canvas for the most amazing artwork Peta had ever seen.

There were four gumboots. Four stunning pieces of art. Two Peta’s size. Two Marcus’s size.

‘I had to move heaven and earth to have a friend do these for us,’ Marcus said. ‘He’s sealed them so we can use them in the dairy. Together.’

She gasped. She held a gumboot up and turned it around, awed. ‘You think the cows will let us milk with these on?’

‘I think the cows will love them. When they get used to them.’

‘How can they get used to them,’ Peta whispered, ‘in two weeks a year…?’

‘Well, there’s another thing we need to discuss,’ Marcus said. ‘Now I know you love your veranda. And I know you won’t let the boys sleep at your end. But would you look at this?’

From the depths of his briefcase he hauled out a set of plans and, while she sat in stunned silence, he spread them out for her perusal. The wind was starting to rise, so he spread them over the landing and weighed each corner down with a gumboot.

‘Plans,’ he said in satisfaction.

‘Plans?’

‘Here’s your veranda. It’s turned into a master bedroom in the plans but it’s still very much a veranda.’

‘Marcus…’ She shook her head in bewilderment. ‘I told you. I don’t want a mansion.’

‘Will you cut it out?’ He was grinning at her. ‘Peta, there’s a huge gap between your veranda and what the rest of the world calls a mansion. I think we’re pretty safe adding extravagances like, say, a hot shower.’

‘A shower…’

‘I know. Sheer luxury,’ he retorted. ‘A friend-Max-has made these plans up. He’s worked from my memory and he worked in a rush but it’s a start. Your veranda, although I hope we can rename it our veranda, stays intact-almost-though the holes in the floorboards will have to go. The kitchen, I love-and so do you-so that stays as well. Just restored as it should be. He’s added a big living room out the back for when the boys come home-somewhere they can entertain their friends. A bedroom for each of them. Two bathrooms. Now I know two bathrooms sounds a lot but hey, I swear it still doesn’t rank as a mansion. I bet your everyday run-of-the-mill mansion has at least four.’

‘Marcus…’

‘And this bit out here is the office,’ he told her, and she heard, for the first time, a hint of real anxiety in his voice. ‘I thought…seeing Ruby’s staying there anyway we could set up a base. I could delegate a lot of the responsibility to our top people here, and Ruby and I could work with teleconferencing, faxes, the Internet. I mean, we are an Internet company. It does seem reasonable. Mind, I’d probably need to visit New York-twice a year, maybe, but for not more than ten days or so. If I promised faithfully not to use first-class travel and put my knees under my chin… What do you think, Peta?’

What did she think? Her world was exploding around her, shards of joy bursting in all directions. He was looking at her with such a look of anxiety. Her Marcus.

Her love.

‘You’d sit in economy class for me?’

‘I’d sit anywhere for you.’

‘Even on a fire-escape?’

‘If you were there.’

‘Marcus, I’d stay in a black marble apartment if you were there,’ she admitted and the look of anxiety faded.

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘Will you wear my ring?’

Once again, that absurd anxiety. She looked down at the tiny velvet box and there was no choice. She lifted the ring and slipped it on her finger. It glistened in the sunlight; she held it out and she fell in love all over again.

‘Oh, Marcus. It’s lovely.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’ She faltered. ‘I should have something for you.’

‘You have you. You have your love.’

‘Will…will you wear gumboots for me?’ she said in a voice that wasn’t quite steady.

He kicked off his shoes and his spectacular gumboots were on his feet in an instant. She looked down at them and she managed a shaky chuckle. ‘They’re wonderful.’

‘Did you know that I fell in love with your bare toe?’ he asked and she looked at him with wonder in her eyes.

‘How can that be?’

‘Sexiest toe I’ve ever seen. Just like Cinderella.’

‘Marcus…’

‘Mmm.’

‘Do you intend to kiss me or will I kiss you?’

‘Well, there’s a problem.’

‘A problem?’ Her heart felt as if it must surely burst. Her Marcus. Her love…

‘I’m a bit worried about this fairytale thing we appear to be stuck in,’ he admitted and stared down at his gaudy feet. ‘My feet are already transformed. If you kiss me, will I turn into a frog?’

‘Let’s try, shall we?’ she whispered. ‘Let’s try really hard. And if you turn into a frog-I promise to keep right on loving you. Marcus Frog. Marcus Anything. I’m yours for ever.’