13. Jane
CHAPTER 13
JANE
Was it crazy to be rude to a guy who is offering me twenty million dollars?
I don’t even know why I felt so annoyed with Adrian after the gallery fiasco. He warned me about his reputation, so I merely got a glimpse of how the sausage is made.
Heavens. Now I’m thinking about Adrian’s sausage.
To get my mind on something else, I search for a lawyer—in case Adrian doesn’t decide to cancel the whole deal, which he probably will.
Unlike some, Miss Miller is of the opinion that reformed rakes do indeed make the best husbands, and that this one can be brought up to snuff using rudimentary feminine wiles.
By the time I get back to Staten Island, I have a video appointment with a lawyer secured, and I’ve sent her all the prerequisite contracts. Once home, I slink to my room before I’m noticed and interrogated, so I can speak with said lawyer.
For a very stiff hourly rate, the lawyer explains what it is that I’ll be signing, and her interpretation is pretty much the same as the impression I got when I skimmed the docs. In other words, I could’ve saved time by flushing that money down the toilet.
“Thanks,” I tell her. “Sounds like I’m going to sign everything.”
“No problem,” she says. “And call me if you have any questions.”
I hang up and go locate Mom, who’s organizing the pantry for the umpteenth time.
“When did you get home?” she demands as soon as she spots me. “More importantly, how did the date go?”
It would be futile to tell her it wasn’t a date.
“Where’s Mary?” I scan the kitchen in case speaking of the little devil makes her appear.
“On her phone in her room,” Mom says. “You can go ahead and tell me all the deets, no matter how X-rated.” She grabs my hand and drags me over to the living room—which I don’t mind so much because it happens to be reasonably far from Mary’s room.
Once we’re on the couch, I blow out a breath. “This has to stay between us. In fact, you’ll need to sign a non-disclosure agreement before I can say a word.”
“How very Fifty Shades .” Mom’s eyes gleam excitedly. “I’ll sign whatever you want if that means you’ll dish.”
I install the special app on her phone and send her the NDA, which she signs on the spot. Then I tell her everything—or try to. When I get to the twenty million dollars, she looks like she’s about to have a fit of the vapors.
“You’re going to be rich!” she squeals right as I wonder if I should break out the smelling salts.
“And famous,” I say with a frown. “Remember the tabloids?”
“Who cares? Can Mary and I live in your mansion?”
“What’s wrong with this house?” I ask.
“The families of millionaires don’t live in dwellings that are seven hundred and fifty square feet,” she says firmly. “I don’t make the rules.”
“There may not be any millions,” I say. “Let me tell you the rest of the story.” I get to the part about the gallery, and how I dissed his outstanding culinary creations before cowardly running away.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Mom says. “He won’t break the engagement simply because you got a little jealous.”
I give Mom my best narrow-eyed stare. “I wasn’t jealous.”
“Oh?” She grins. “Then what would you call that green feeling of anxiety, anger, and confusion you felt when you saw one of his naked exes?”
“Can we rehearse what we’ll tell Mary?” I ask, desperate to change the subject.
Mom looks at the door furtively. “We’ll get as close to the truth as we can: you accidentally met the guy of your dreams. You didn’t tell her right away, but now that he’s proposed, you can’t keep it a secret anymore.”
“Guy of my dreams?”
Mom grins devilishly. “Like I said, trying to stay as close to the truth as we can. The lie will be the when—and not much else.”
“Yeah, whatever,” I say. “The key bit is that you knew about our relationship all this time, but we didn’t tell Mary because he has a bad reputation, so I wanted to wait and see.”
“Exactly,” she says. “And I’ll tell your grandmother that you got engaged to the guy I told her about.”
“Excuse me?”
“Remember that idiot you dated for a week a few months back?” Mom asks. “The guy with the faux hawk?”
Wincing, I nod.
“I didn’t have the heart to tell Mom that you retained your virginity.”
“You what?!” I shout.
Miss Miller believes that merely thinking about matricide is a grave sin.
“Hey,” Mom says. “I made our lives easier. You know how Grandma doesn’t remember any names? Now we can just tell her it’s been Adrian all along.”
“Fine. I guess it cuts down on the lies.”
“Exactly,” Mom says. “Now go ahead and sign your documents too.”
Oh, yeah. I do that—and a second later, my phone dings.
My heart leaps. “It’s him.”
Mom tries to snatch my phone from me. “If it’s a dick pic, I call dibs.”
I yank it out of her reach and check the message.
Looks like we’re a go! Please give me a call when you’re ready to plan the next steps.
“See?” Mom says. “He didn’t back out—so call him.”
“Tomorrow. Let me calm down a bit.” Because I’m seriously having palpitations.
“Smart,” Mom says. “For now, let’s get Mary up to speed.”
We head over to my sister’s room, and I tell her what we’ve just discussed and show her the ring.
“I don’t believe it,” my sister says when I’m finished.
Crap.
“I know!” Mom says. “Our Jane and a gorgeous billionaire fiancé? But it’s true.”
“Not that,” Mary says and turns to me. “I don’t believe Mom could’ve kept a secret this big.”
Damn. She’s good.
“I held her first edition of Pride and Prejudice hostage,” I say smugly.
In truth, I’m highly skeptical that the book in question, Mom’s greatest possession, is truly a first edition. Mom never lets anyone touch it, but from afar, the book looks very old—and Grandma confirmed that it has been in our family for a couple generations. Still, a true first edition costs almost as much as a Porsche, so I figure Mom would have sold it long ago.
“Oh,” Mary says. “That would do it. I guess congratulations are in order.”
“Thanks.” I ruffle her hair.
“Did you tell Grandma?” Mary asks.
“She knows about the boyfriend,” Mom says. “But not that he proposed.”
“Let’s call her.” Mary pulls out her phone and starts dialing before Mom or I can suggest doing so in the morning—because now is perilously close to Grandma’s bedtime.
“Hello?” Grandma shouts so loudly her voice could reach New York from Florida even without a phone.
“Hi, Mom,” Mom says.
“Georgiana, is that you?” Grandma shouts even louder.
Unlike everyone else in this century, Grandma uses an ancient landline phone, one without caller ID or even call waiting—a thing that has puzzled Mary, who’s too young to know what a busy signal means.
“Mom, turn on your hearing aids, please.”
Yep. She must’ve taken them out before bed.
“Mary?” Grandma says. “Jane?”
“I’m here too,” I say.
“And me,” Mary says.
“Hold on,” Grandma says, and there’s some sort of clattering, which hopefully indicates that she has in fact turned on said hearing aids.
“Can you hear me now?” Mom shouts.
“Why are you screaming?” Grandma demands. “I can hear perfectly well.”
Right. And Adrian is a boy scout.
“We have some news,” Mom says. “Remember Jane’s boyfriend?”
“Jane’s backbend?” Grandma asks.
“No, boy -friend,” Mom enunciates.
“Can you even do a backbend?” Mary whispers.
“For Adrian, she might,” Mom whispers back.
“Eww,” Mary hisses. “Gross.”
How the hell does a ten-year-old understand that joke?
“Ah,” Grandma says. “Yes. The one who popped Jane’s cherry?”
“Eww again,” Mary whisper-hisses.
And how the hell does a ten-year-old already know what that means?
“Yeah, that one,” Mom says. “He’s Jane’s fiancé now.”
“He built Jane a fence?”
Is she just messing with us now?
Mom snatches the phone and puts it very close to her mouth. “They’re getting married. He proposed today .”
“Oh, goodness!” Grandma exclaims. “What a wonderful surprise! I guess sometimes they still do buy the cow, even after getting all that milk for free.”
“Eww?” Mary whispers.
“I love being compared to a cow, Grandma, thanks,” I say with an eyeroll. “Or is it milk?”
“Don’t get snippy with me!” Grandma shouts. “Georgiana gave it away, and look what happened. Twice. You and Mary should know better.”
Mom looks like she’s been slapped, and I resist the urge to smash the phone into pieces. Grandma is usually kind, which makes it all the more shocking when she blurts shit like that out loud—especially since it’s not even true in the case of Jack, Mary’s father. He and Mom did get married, but then they got divorced in a year, so to paraphrase the horrid proverb, Jack bought the cow but returned her for a refund, regardless of all the milk.
“Well,” Mom says, her voice exaggeratingly upbeat. “We’d better go. There are plans we need to make.”
“Wait, when is the wedding?” Grandma demands.
“We just got engaged today,” I say. “We haven’t talked about the wedding date just yet.”
“Good,” Grandma says. “That means you’re not knocked up.”
Miss Miller thanks goodness two ladies are involved in this exchange, or else it would be pistols at dawn.
“Okay,” Mom says. “Have a good night.” And with that she hangs up.
Mary sighs and looks at Mom. “How long before you also go senile?”
I pinch her. “Grandma is not senile. She’s uncouth.”
“Don’t say that,” Mom says sternly. “Only I’m allowed to complain.”
“Fine,” Mary and I say sullenly in unison.
“Now,” Mom says. “Let’s celebrate Jane’s engagement.”