The Black Chapel (23 page)

“Me too,” I say. “Me too.” But right now, nothing is real, except for the future I have in front of me. My new, honest future. And though it looks as bleak as hell, at least it’s an honest one.

Michael brings the lawyer back in and I sign the annulment, and head home.

One week later, I receive a FedEx envelope in the mail. The sender says Mrs. Manning.

“Mrs. Manning?” I say aloud.

The cute FedEx guy smiles at me. “Hey, I don’t usually do this, but would you have a cup of coffee with me?”

I look at him with my meanest eyes I can muster. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he says and smiles.

He’s cute, but I have had enough of guys. “Absolutely no way.” I slam the door in his face. Poor guy. I’m not usually this mean. Just lately.

I open the envelope and pull another large white envelope out. Inside that envelope is a letter and yet another three smaller envelopes. One says Scarlett, one says Michael and one has a PO Box address on it with a stamp. How many freaking envelopes does there need to be? I start reading.

Dear Scarlett,

I am writing this letter to you from the hospital. I just spoke with you and just had a lengthy heart-to heart conversation with Michael. You’re probably wondering why you are getting this letter after my funeral and all. If you are reading this that means I have died. There, I said it. I’m dead. I told my lawyer to mail it out ten days after I kicked the can.

I trust you came to my funeral. I hope it was worth going. I know sometimes these funerals can be so, oh what’s the word? So boring you want to kill yourself? I trust mine wasn’t on of those.

But dear Scarlett. I wanted to pay you back for all the trouble you’ve been through since you came in contact with our family. Not because I want to pay you off, but because I think you deserve it.

You may not know this, but you’ve changed my son for the better. He never knew true love until he met you. You might think I’m an old woman who doesn’t know anything about love. But one thing I do know is that my son loves you. He may not realize it yet, and might not admit it, but one day he will. My prayer is that when he does realize it that it will not be too late for the two of you.

Inside the small white envelope with your name on it, you will find a check for your half of the deal. I believe it was estimated at one and a half billion dollars. Michael always knew his numbers well. But what he didn’t know, was that I had other foreign accounts with money in them too. So enclosed you’ll find a check written to you for your half of the deal, which comes to the sum of three billion dollars. You must not tell Michael that you have the money. I don’t want him marrying you for it. There are, however, conditions you have to meet to keep this money.

Inside the small white envelope with Michael’s name on it is another check in the same amount as yours. You must not let him know that you have this, either. If you do, trust me, I will find out (yes, don’t roll your pretty eyes at me, I’ll know even from the grave) and revoke his and your entire inheritance. Please give it to him only after you two are married. Needless to say, Michael knows nothing of any of this. And in fact, he believes that his inheritance has already been donated to charity.

If Michael does not return to you within a month from the delivery of this letter, and proposes to you, I have made arrangements for his portion of the funds to be released to Make-A-Wish Foundation. Your funds will remain yours until forevermore, or revoked if my lawyer finds out you’ve told him. However, if he does propose, send the third pre-stamped envelops to my lawyer and he will hold the funds.

I hope that Michael will finally realize he loves you and see how truly special you are. I hope with all my heart, too, that you will find each other, and that Michael will get his head out of his ass.

Warm Regards,

Mrs. Manning

PS: If there are ever any grandchildren, please kiss them for me.

It’s been twenty-nine days since I received the letter from Diane. I’ve deposited my check and check my bank account like twenty times a day just to make sure the funds are still there.

My dad has moved home and I’m taking care of him full time. I’ve taken a part-time job as a book store clerk in the Portland Museum, making ten dollars an hour. I’m not doing it for the money. I’m doing it because I love art and books, and I love all the people I meet.

The money I received from the necklace, I donated anonymously to the Black Chapel girl, AKA my best friend Anne. She has retired now from her job as a stripper and is pursuing her college degree. I miss her dearly, because she decided to move all the way across the country to be with her parents. She too has come clean about her lifestyle. Of course her parents were shocked at first, but now, they’re working things out.

I still think about Michael a lot, but the pain has lessened a little. Okay, if I’m truly honest with myself, it hasn’t really lessened at all. But seeing my father improve has been the highlight of my life, and it helps me manage my grief so much more. The doctor says he’s progressing nicely, and that he’s responding well to the chemotherapy treatments. Maybe that’s why I needed to meet Michael, so I could find the money I needed to save my dad’s life. I find comfort in that explanation, and hope one day it will satisfy the void I have in my heart.

“I’m off to work, Dad. Can I get you anything before I leave?” I say.

My dad looks at me. “For heaven’s sake, Scarlett, quit worrying about me. I may be an old man, but I’m not completely useless.”

I smile and he smiles back.

“Okay, grumpy old man. See you later,” I say.

I head for work. It’s a busy day, just the way I like it. My life is finally calming down, and I can again start to figure out what I want to do in the future. It’s so much easier having a butt-load of cash in the bank.

While I’m at lunch at work, I see that I’ve missed a phone call from Michael. My heart starts racing and the whole rest of the day I can’t stop thinking about why he might have called me. The possibilities are endless. Does he know about the money? Does he want to apologize? I’m clueless.

After work, and on my way home, I call him back. I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack, my heart is beating so fervently. Why would Michael call me? It seems a little out of the blue. The phone rings three times before he picks up.

“Hello?” Michael says. He sounds eager.

My heart melts the moment I hear his voice. “Hi, it’s Scarlett, also known as Samantha.” I smile. “I saw that I missed a call from you.”

“Oh, yes. How are you?” Michael says.

“I’m… well,” I say, trying to sound as sincere as possible.

“I wanted to see if I could come over and discuss something with you?” Michael says.

I hesitate. Do I want to go down that painful road again? Do I want to see him, and be reminded of how much I truly miss him, and that I’m not at all over him? “I—uh—”

“It’s a good thing, I promise,” he says.

“Okay. I’m heading home from work now, and I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. How does an hour sound?” That will give me time to warn my dad that we’re having a guest come over and for me to freshen up a little, or a lot.

“That works well. I’ll be over in an hour,” Michael says.

After I hang up the phone, I speed home. I rationalize that I can definitely afford a ticket if I get pulled over. I’m freaking out that Michael is coming over. Freaking out!

Once I get home, I kiss my dad on the cheek and then bring him a glass of water. It’s our new ritual, and I think my dad really enjoys me doting on him, even though he’d never admit to it.

“Dad. Someone is coming over to visit,” I say, handing him his glass of water.

“Who?” he asks. He’s looking particularly energetic today. It’s so good to see that the sparkle in his eyes has returned.

“An old friend. His name is Michael. Do you remember him?” I say.

“Yes. Wasn’t that the guy you were going to marry?”

The pain hits me in the solar plexus. “Yes. But we’re friends again,” I say. I haven’t told my dad too much about Michael. If I did I’d have to worry about my dad sneaking out at night to kill him.

“Oh, good. As long as you’re fine with it, Sweetie. I know how difficult break-ups can be.”

I swallow. “It was hard, yes, but I’m moving on.”

My dad nods. “Well, if you do ever need me to get my shotgun out…”

“Dad! No, that won’t be necessary,” I say. I head up stairs and change into my favorite jeans and a plum baby-t. A little lip-gloss and some more eye-shadow and mascara and I’m ready.

While waiting for Michael, I snuggle with my dad on the couch, watching Wheel of Fortune with him. My dad is the best at guessing the riddles. I keep telling him he should apply to be a contestant on the show, but he’s just not the one to be in the spotlight.

A while later, I hear a soft knock at the door. My breathing ceases. I roll my eyes at myself. Pull yourself together, Scarlett! Michael is outside the door, and you’re already breathless? Geez. Can I say desperate?

I open the door, and Michael’s standing there with a colossal bouquet of red roses. “Hi, come on in,” I say.

As he walks through the door, he hands me the flowers. “These are for you.”

When he hands me the flowers, our hands touch, and there is that unmistakable charge between us again. “Thanks,” I say. “I head for the kitchen and put them in a vase. I try not to think about how very handsome Michael looks in that black sweater with a white shirt underneath and faded jeans.

“So, let me introduce you to my dad,” I say once out in the living room again. I step in front of my dad, blocking his way to the TV. “Dad, this is Michael. Michael, meet my dad.”

Michael holds out his hand and my dad takes it.

“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Michael says. He sounds like a nervous schoolboy, meeting my dad for the first time.

“The pleasure is all mine, son,” my dad says. “You can call me Tom. So you know a little about real estate?”

“Well, some. I’ve been in the market for a few years,” Michael says.

“Seriously? You’re going to go modest on me?” I say, my hands hitting my hips. I smirk. “Michael is the best at what he does in all of Oregon, possibly the entire US.”

“I know,” my dad says. “But I wanted to hear him talk about it.”

“I’d love to talk to you about it. But first, I have some very important business to settle with your daughter.” Michael looks at me, and I’m surprised to see that there’s a whole lot of tenderness in his eyes.

“Well, we’ll let you get back to your Wheel of Fortune now,” I say. “Michael, shall we?” I gesture for him to come with me.

My hands are shaking so much; I hope Michael won’t notice. I guide him into the kitchen and we sit down at the kitchen table.

“So, how have you been?” I ask.

Michael huffs. He’s twisting his hands on top of the table. “I don’t know how to say this right, so I’m just going to blurt it out, okay?”

“Okay,” I say. “Don’t hurt yourself,” I tease.

He huffs again, louder this time. Then he stands up and begins to pace the floor. “Dammit! Why does this have to be so difficult?”

“What’s so difficult?” I say. I’m rather enjoying him being this frazzled, and I like that though I’m still wanting Michael just as much, I don’t feel so needy or desperate for him to want me back. Well, maybe I’m just a little desperate.

“Okay, here goes.” He sits back down again and takes my hands in his. Then he looks into my eyes, really seeing me, I think, for the first time. “I’m an idiot. I lost all that money because I fell for you.”

His words hurt. “Is that supposed to be an insult?” I say, pulling my hands away.

He doesn’t let me go. “No, Scarlett. What I mean to say is I’m an idiot, because I don’t even care that I lost my entire inheritance. The only thing I regret is that I married you—”

I pull my hands away and stand up. “I’ve heard enough. Why do you torment me so? It’s like you can’t get enough of torturing me, so you come back and—”

Michael stands up and cups my mouth with his hand. “Will you just listen for a second? This is important.”

I’m so shocked, the only thing I can do is nod.

“The one thing I regret is that I married you, and it wasn’t for real.” He removes his hand from my mouth. “You see, I love you, and I want to be with you, and only you. I don’t care about the money at all.”

Does he truly mean it? Or does he know something. “Well, even if you did care about the money, it’s been donated already, right?” I ask.

“Yes, but only half of it. You see, after you left that day in the hospital, my mother proposed me with a new deal. She said she didn’t want me to marry you.”

I’m thoroughly confused. “What?” It’s not at all what my letter stated.

“And if I didn’t marry you, or even date you or see you, she’d release my inheritance after ninety days,” Michael says.

I’m speechless. “But it hasn’t been ninety days since I saw you.”

“I know. But I can’t live without you for an entire year. I can’t live without you for even another day.” He steps closer to me and the charge between us is back full force. “Because without you, suddenly life has no meaning at all.”

“So, just you being here means you won’t receive your inheritance?” I say.

“Yes.”

“But it’s not like your mother could—well, never mind. Your mother always knows what we’re doing. Even now I get the distinct feeling like she’s watching us,” I say.

Michael smiles, and the dimples I love so much come out.

“Well, it looks like neither of us got what we wanted,” I say. I can’t believe I’m back to lying again. But deep inside, I know what Diane is doing. She’s making sure her son is marrying me for love, and not the money. Will he hate me for it later? I pray not.

He comes over and hugs me. “No, Scarlett. I meant what I said. I made a big mistake in letting you go, and if I don’t beg for your hand in marriage, I’d be the biggest fool to have ever walked the earth.”