A Proper Wife

“Not you, Grandfather. I was talking to...” He jammed his fingers through his hair so that the dark strands curled down over his forehead. “Listen here, Grandfather, I never meant—”

“Friday’s an excellent day for the wedding. In fact,” James said slyly, “I’d already thought of that day myself. And I’ve given some thought to the plans.”

“Dammit, sir—”

“I know, I know. Brimley said I was behaving like a tyrant, but honestly, Ryan, can you think of a better place for the ceremony than the library right here in this house? Brimley can make herself useful, handling details. Champagne, petits fours, flowers—”

Ryan shot to his feet. “Wait a minute! I wasn’t talking about—”

“—any fuss. I understand, but a glass or two of Mumm’s isn’t fussing, is it? I’ve already spoken with Judge Wiggins. You remember him, don’t you? He says he’ll be delighted to perform the ceremony.”

“Great Caesar’s ghost,” Ryan whispered, “you’ve thought of everything!”

“I was going to call an announcement in to the Times but that secretary of yours—what is her name?—was kind enough to offer to do it for me.”

“Sylvia?” Ryan said numbly. “Sylvia knows?”

“She didn’t want to interrupt you, my boy. I had to tell her why this call was so urgent, didn’t I?”

Ryan grasped at the telephone cord like a drowning man grabbing at a lifeline.

“Grandfather,” he said, “I hate to spoil this for you, but—”

“There is one last thing, Ryan. I saw my doctor this morning.”

Ryan froze. The old man’s voice had softened in a way that suggested what came next would be something of a shock.

“And? What did he say?”

James fairly cackled with glee. “He said it was a miracle, that I look like a man with a new lease on life. The charlatan is taking credit for it, of course, but I know the truth. It’s your agreeing to this marriage that’s made all the difference.”

Ryan’s mouth opened, then shut. He groaned softly and closed his eyes.

“Let’s see... Have I left anything out?”

“Nothing,” Ryan said miserably, “not a damned thing.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you Friday.” James cleared his throat. “Ryan? Thank you, son. You’ve made an old man’s last days very, very happy.”

The phone went dead.

For a second or two, Ryan sat frozen at his desk. Then he yanked the phone from his ear and stared in horror at an instrument that seemed to have suddenly metamorphosed into a tarantula.

“Hell,” he snarled. “Bloody hell!”

“What’s wrong?” Devon said. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost. And I didn’t hear you say one word to your grandfather about this insane plotting and scheming of his.” Ryan didn’t answer and she leaned over the desk and jabbed her finger at him. “Call him back. Tell him not to contact my mother again. Tell him—”

She jumped sky-high as Ryan gave a roar of rage. Leaping to his feet, he pulled the phone from the wall, tossed it on the floor, and pointed an accusing finger right back at Devon.

“Which one of you put this idea in his head?” he snarled. “You? Or your mother?”

“What idea?” Devon tried not to shrink back as he stalked around the desk and towered over her. “What are you talking about?”

“I hope you’re proud of yourself, lady. I hope you’re damned proud! It’s not every day a mother-daughter act as bad as yours has a chance of succeeding!”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Ryan took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what’s going on.” A smile was curling across his mouth, one so coldly feral that Devon felt her heart stop beating. “Give the ring back to your Martian boyfriend,” he said. “Friday afternoon, you’re going to become my blushing bride.”