15 JANIE
JANIE
“Mrs. Clark?” I hear someone say. “Mrs. Clark?” Again, louder.
Oh! She means me.
I grit my teeth. Everyone here is way too invested in my marriage. I haven’t even changed my name.
Crap, I am probably going to have to change my name.
“Oh, sorry, yes?”
“You have a visitor at the front,” Gloria says, almost giggling.
“Okay,” I say, wondering what Benedict has sent now. Singing telegram? Stylist to dress me for our outing this weekend? She might as well strip me naked and start taking measurements in front of this entire office of busybodies. That’s what the past two days have felt like.
But the closer I weave through the cubicles, passing all manner of Halloween decorations one could imagine along the way, the closer I get to the front security area behind Gloria’s desk, the more unnerved I feel. So much whispering, smirking and gawking.
“Ah, my blushing bride!”
“Benedict?” I gasp, shocked to see him.
He smirks, “’Tis I, wife. And, believe it or not, I don’t have security clearance to come in unless I’m with someone.” I make a noise that is a sort of dismayed laugh-grunt. “Gloria’s working on adding me to the employee database.”
Because he’s not supposed to be here for two days, and because the words coming out of his mouth make no sense, I just freeze. Right behind Gloria.
“I know you’re surprised, love, but maybe come give me a hug?”
“Oh, right,” I say, passing through the little turnstile.
I’ve always thought the security here was overkill but corporate espionage exists, I was told during orientation, and the Mellman’s recipes are basically a national treasure.
Behind Gloria and the small entry way stand two security guards, both staring at my husband like he’s the second coming of the Lord Jesus himself. He is very…glowy?
He smiles wide at me as I reach him, where I freeze again.
He just laughs and gathers me into a hug.
Then quickly kisses my forehead. At that, Gloria sighs a sigh that I think could be heard past the entrance, past all the cubicles, past the executive offices, down the staircase, past all the factory machines and all the way to the bottling section at the end of the plant a full three city blocks away.
I try to smile, “What are you doing here?”
“Taking you to lunch, darling,” he looks at me, then Gloria, then me. “Surprise.” His eyes go wide and I realize I should respond.
“Oh, wow, um, so sweetie. I mean, so great. Sweetie. Thanks to, thanks you. Thank you!” I sound even more awkward than I feel. He’s about to laugh but I try to tell him to shove it with my eyes. I told him I’m not good at being under pressure.
“Can I come with you to get your things? I want to see the flair in person.”
“It’s to die for! Everyone in the office has stopped by to see…
” Gloria starts gushing. She rambles on and on as I lead Benedict quickly through the front.
He glances around, taking in all the decorations and chuckling.
I was not exaggerating. One grim reaper waves an ax and one jumps out and actually startles him before we get over to my spot in accounting.
“Wow, you weren’t joking,” he mutters.
“Nope,” I say back.
“This looks pretty damn good, I’d say. D’you like it?” he asks me at my desk, a weird look on his face.
“Of course I like it, look at it.” I gesture around me as I pick up my purse and toss my phone in. But Benedict furrows his brow.
It’s a gorgeous frown, really. Too handsome for the surrounding office that is both drab and tacky this month.
He towers over the half walls of the cubicle groups.
He’s too tan, his blue eyes too bright, his perfectly styled-but-not-styled hair needing to be out in the wind and sun.
Not here. Even if he’s wearing a crisp light gray suit.
No tie. He looks good. Looks great, actually.
I give my head a shake and start to ask what exactly he’s doing here in New Jersey’s hokiest little town but stop myself.
Everyone is watching us like we’re the most interesting thing to ever happen here.
We probably are. Except I remember there were rumors four years back that Harry Styles was here six days before Christmas taking selfies with his entourage. I doubt that.
I start to sprint to the door but Benedict pauses, feeling all 122 pairs of eyes either on him or trying to spot him if they lean or stretch far enough.
“Right, uh, bloody good decorations, everyone. Good for morale, eh? Productivity and all that. Keep it up.” People start to chuckle and whisper. He gives an awkward salute and I can’t help but snort.
“What?” he says as we hustle out.
“Who were you saluting?” I almost smile.
“I had to do something! Everyone was staring. My name’s on the damn door.”
I look over my shoulder at him. “Your name is Mellman?”
He narrows his eyes, “Cheeky.”
We stop chatting as we near Gloria and quicken our pace. A few more steps and, thank God, we’re outside. Both of us exhale like we’ve just escaped the scene of a crime.
I spot his hired car with Nigel in the front and make a beeline for it.
“So sweetie? Thanks to you?”
I ignore his teasing as we climb in, both still kind of winded. I turn to him, “I’m not only bad under pressure, I am a really, really bad liar. Probably should have told you that before tying the knot. Ugh! What are you even doing here?”
“Visiting you?”
“Why? I thought I told you. I hate surprises. ”
He opens his mouth and shuts it. Then says, “Sorry. Clear expectations. Right. Well. I didn’t think, I just…came to visit. I’ve kidnapped you now, so shall we eat?”
“I guess,” I say, still ruffled. I always bring soup and a hot sandwich for lunch. Tuesdays I have broccoli cheddar with a turkey melt. I was looking forward to my usual.
“Aaand,” the billionaire is leaning forward, studying my face that’s been zoned out, thinking about food. “My ego takes another solid hit to the jugular. Good Lord, woman, it’ll be quick. It can count as our appearance for this week.” Benedict adds next to me.
“Sorry, sure. I’m just, all…thrown off now.”
“I see that. Come, what’s the best food in town? I’ll make it up to you.”
“Probably Evergreen Grill, though I haven’t been there in years,” I think aloud.
Benedict pulls it up on his phone and the car starts to pull away.
His huge watch catches the light, sparkling in contrast to the plain beige building behind him.
Which reminds me just how different his world is from mine.
“Wait,” I put a hand on his but quickly pull away. Why is his hand so warm? And large…I refocus. “This will be a huge press bump for them, right? You being there? At the restaurant?”
“Most likely, some New York paps have probably been camped out nearby because you live here.” My head rears back. “You, I’m afraid, are the wife of one of the most famous and some might say most sexy men in the world.”
“Ugh, whatever. If it’ll be good for her, then let’s go to Harper’s. She will love it and I think she could use the press.”
I give directions to Nigel and field questions about the area for the ten minute drive from the outskirts of town into the actual town.
We pull up to Harper’s and get out. Benedict looks up at the sign.
“The Roasted Chestnut? Really? Is everything in town named that way?” he asks as he shields his eyes from the sun with his hand.
I stare up at the faded wooden sign and exhale, “I graduated from Jolly Juniper High.”
He gasps, “No.”
“Yes. Like I said, it’s all cute and fun until you actually live here.”
“It’s a tiny bit cute, I think.”
“You would,” my eyes roll up to the sky.
“Which Christmas story is it with the ghosts and the man with the mutton chop beard?”
“Scrooge?”
“Yes! Dickens, of course.” Benedict turns to me, “Darling, if you get any grumpier I’m going to be on the lookout for Marley and Marley to appear at any moment.”
“Bah humbug,” I deadpan back.
He laughs and then wraps his arm around my shoulders, “See? Surprises are fun. We’re having fun already, yeah?”
“Uh huh,” I say sarcastically, but I’m smiling wide and he seems elated about it.
We surprise Harper, who almost faints, and then try to help her business by sitting in the window and ordering all her bestsellers. Her coffee shop is more of a bakery than a cafe but she has a few savory options that can pass as a lunch order.
I am keenly aware of the photographers across the street as we sip coffee and talk about this crazy town. Even more so when Benedict insists on feeding me a bite of his first dessert.
“Come on, they’ll love it,” he says, still finishing his own big bite.
He holds out the pumpkin cupcake with his fingers and my heart rate spikes. This is so weird. We’re freaking married?! And now he’s feeding me?
I glare at him as I lean forward, annoyed at my life.
He whispers, “Less rage, more seduction. Have you ever actually dated? I’m beginning to think you lied about your past. Though, maybe an Ebenezer can’t really be sexy if she’s so grumpy that—” I shut him up by lowering my lashes and taking a large, slow bite while maintaining eye contact.
I make sure to suck his fingers a little as I pull away.
Then I make a show of leaning back, extending my neck and groaning at how good Harper’s cupcakes are.
I open my eyes and see the man across from me frozen, hand still out, mouth hanging open. I relax back into reality. “Ebenezer can be sexy as hell when she wants to be.”
Benedict coughs and shifts in his seat, “Damn it all to hell, she absolutely can. I need an ice bath now. How’m I supposed to walk out of here?”