Chapter Thirteen
“I must say, this is all very irregular.” Mr. Vanderman squints at us from behind his bifocals before looking back down at the large stack of papers in his hands.
He’s pretty much been saying variations of that same thing for the last twenty minutes, and every time he does, I get a little more nervous. If I can’t get my name added to the deed for the bakery, this marriage will have been for nothing. No wonder King stressed our need to make our marriage look legit.
King’s hand tightens around mine as he shifts a bit in his seat. “Uncle Bill always talked about how he wanted Georgie to have the bakery.”
“Then he should have left it to her,” Mr. Vanderman mutters to himself. He holds one sheet of paper closer to his face, hiding himself from view as he reads it.
King frowns, but there’s something in his expression that speaks of resignation. If he’s already willing to give up, we’re going to have a problem.
I sit forward. “Mr. Vanderman, Bill must have known King and I were going to end up here eventually, but he wasn’t sure when I would be coming back to Willow Cove. He probably thought it was safer if he left it to—”
“His family, Miss Carpenter.” Mr. Vanderman peers at me over the top of the paper. “I’ve noticed you haven’t applied to change your name yet.”
Of course he would point that out. I look at King, who doesn’t look back. We already had this discussion, but I don’t think the stuffy attorney will accept “it sounds funny” as a suitable reason to keep my maiden name over Kingston. I scramble for some other excuse. “Carpenter is my professional name, and the one I’m known by in the baking world. For the sake of the bakery, I thought I should keep it.”
“Hmm.” Mr. Vanderman purses his lips as he looks between us.
“Besides, she’d basically be named King George,” Coop says behind us. Honestly, I’m not sure how he and Cecily managed to end up in the room to witness this awkward conversation, but the two of them are sitting in the back of the office with opposite expressions. Coop looks like he would rather be anywhere but here, and Cecily has some mischief in her eyes that I really don’t like. She’s been looking at me like that ever since we left the tourist shop, though she’s been surprisingly mum.
“Mr. Heyes, you are here as an unnecessary witness, not to offer your opinions.” Placing the paper on the desk, Mr. Vanderman looks at each of us in turn before fixing his hard gaze on King. “Mr. Kingston, you are aware that I considered your uncle a dear friend before he departed this world, and as such I know precisely why he chose to leave his legacy to you rather than an outsider.”
I may not be a Willow Cove native, but I’ve spent enough time in this town to be more than an outsider. I’m about to say as much when King takes my hand and squeezes. I’m not sure if it’s reassurance or a warning, but I reluctantly keep my mouth shut.
“Uncle Bill wanted his bakery to thrive,” King says slowly. “He knew I wouldn’t let him down if something happened to him.”
“Exactly.”
“And I think the best thing for that bakery is for Georgie to have it.”
Mr. Vanderman purses his lips and turns his gaze to me. I don’t know what it is about him, but something about the way he looks at me feels almost painful. “I did not see you at the funeral, Miss Carpenter.”
Before I can say a word, King growls out, “That’s Mrs. Carpenter, sir. Whether you believe it or not, she’s my wife.”
She’s my wife. I’ve been reading too many romance novels because those few words send a shiver through me.
Cecily snickers. I really hope she didn’t see that shiver.
Mr. Vanderman scoffs, glancing between us before fixing his steely eyes on me once more. “Mrs. Carpenter, despite your absence over the last several years, you have certainly taken a shine to your new role in this family quickly, what with all the changes you’re making to the bakery menu. It’s not yours yet.”
Why in the world is this guy so against scribbling my name onto a piece of paper? My goodness, it’s like he’s angry on King’s behalf for the way I left. “What does a menu have to do with my marriage?” I ask sharply. “The people of Willow Cove have been requesting all of that stuff, so it’s not like—”
“And I have heard you will be employing Mr. Billingsley to make extensive renovations,” Mr. Vanderman continues.
King’s hand tightens around mine.
“I don’t know if I would call them extensive,” I argue. I haven’t even met with Beck yet. “But the place does need updating if we want it to—”
“Now that you are married, I don’t see why you cannot carry on as you are doing without bothering with the arduous process of changing ownership.”
My stomach drops. I knew he was going to be hesitant, based on what King said the day before we got married, but if he thinks I should be content to do everything in my husband’s name, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to last long. Yes, I can revive the bakery without being the owner, but I can’t spend the rest of my life having to ask permission to do anything. I won’t be able to go start my own bakery somewhere else without King needing to come with me to sign all the paperwork because everything will be in his name, including the profits I would use as a down payment. Never mind my independence; I can’t ask that of King.
He deserves more than that.
Besides, the last time I trusted my livelihood to someone else’s name, it left me with nothing. Lane left me with nothing. King isn’t that kind of man, but that wound is going to be raw for a long time.
“With all due respect,” I say carefully, “that sounds incredibly old-fashioned and misogynistic, Mr. Vanderman.”
He sniffs. “I don’t see how—”
“You’re expecting me to put my blood, sweat, and tears into my husband’s business so he can enjoy the benefits. So his net worth can increase. You are aware that, even when married, we have our own credit scores and financial histories. We are individual people regardless of our marital status. King is too busy with his own business to have to be at my beck and call while I try to rescue Bill’s legacy from falling to ruin under King’s hand.”
I grimace and send an apologetic look at King, only to find him with a little smile as he looks back at me.
“She’s right,” he says. “The place has been falling apart ever since Uncle Bill passed, and I’m no good at baking. I don’t even want…” His words fall off for a second before he chokes out the last few words. “Don’t want the bakery.” That was a lie.
I know he’s holding on to the last bit of his family, and I hope I can make all the changes I need to without him feeling like he’s lost the last of the Kingstons. Even when I go somewhere else to start my own thing, I won’t abandon Kingston’s Bakery. It’ll live on in Willow Cove forever, just with someone else in the kitchen.
“Hmm.” Mr. Vanderman glances between us, his expression more irritated than thoughtful. “Well, I confess I am still wary of this arrangement. Your marriage, so quickly settled, has raised a good number of questions.”
“Such as?” I ask.
“Were you not in a relationship with one…” He squints down at one of his pieces of paper. “...Lane Beretto until quite recently?”
My stomach twists, leaving me slightly nauseous. I won’t be able to answer his question honestly without things looking questionable, and I don’t like the idea of lying. But I have to say something. “My relationship with Lane was a product of the TV show, Mr. Vanderman.”
“Be that as it may, its recent nature still calls into question the strength of this union and its likelihood of surviving.” Not one to mince words, Mr. V.
Coop snorts a little laugh, which I don’t appreciate, but it’s King who speaks up. “What are you insinuating?” he growls, sitting up a little straighter.
Mr. Vanderman’s lips curl up in the slightest of smiles. “I am only suggesting Miss Carpenter—”
“Mrs.”
“—has a history of flightiness that speaks of an inability to commit to more than—”
“That’s enough!” King jumps to his feet, and I’m glad I’m still gripping his hand because otherwise he might actually throw a punch. “Mr. Vanderman, I’m going to ask you one time to stop speaking to my wife like that. If you’re incapable of being professional, maybe it’s time for you to retire. I am more than happy to hire a new attorney to handle the estate, and the only reason I’ve kept you is because you were Uncle Bill’s friend.” He looks down his nose at the old man. “Can’t see why, though.”
I know this moment is serious and that I should be incredibly offended by the way Vanderman is treating me, and I am. But good glory my husband is attractive. I don’t think I’ve ever had a man defend me the way King did just now, and my whole body is buzzing as I stare up at his clenched jaw and fiery eyes. If Lane had ever done that on the show, our ratings would have shot up like crazy.
Someone clears their throat behind us, and it takes me a second to realize it’s Cecily. She has a hand in the air and an excited smile on her face. “If I may offer a suggestion,” she says to Mr. Vanderman.
The attorney, who turned a healthy shade of red when King shouted at him, narrows his eyes. “What?” he snaps.
Cecily isn’t bothered by his incivility. “Maybe, given the circumstances of their quick engagement and subsequent nuptials, Mr. Kingston and Mrs. Carpenter might benefit from the services of a marriage counselor?”
The blood rushes from my face, leaving me dizzy. What is she doing?
King snarls a little. “We’re fine. I don’t think we need—”
“Oh, counseling is beneficial for couples of all dispositions,” Cecily says to him. She’s put on her serious therapist voice, which is so different from her usual bubbly personality that it always catches me off guard when I hear it. “Even the strongest of marriages have found advantages in having an objective third party involved in keeping their relationship on a solid foundation.” She looks at Mr. Vanderman again. “I would be happy to offer my assistance as you ascertain the viability of transferring ownership from husband to wife.”
Coop scoffs, one eyebrow raised high. I honestly can’t tell if he thinks my friend is insane or a genius. I’m wondering the same thing myself.
“I think a week or two of observation and facilitated conversation with a licensed professional could ease your mind on the matter,” Cecily continues, and then she hurries forward to hand the attorney her card, smashing herself between the two of us.
I grip King’s hand tighter, in case he thinks of letting go now that Cecily is inserting herself into our lives and leaning against our arms. Right now, I need to know we’re in this together; it will be a whole lot easier to murder my best friend if I have an accomplice.
Mr. Vanderman stares at the card for a long while, his thoughts practically visible behind his eyes, and then he lifts a cold gaze to King. “You will understand that I only want to follow William Kingston’s wishes on this matter.”
King grows even more tense than before.
“But…” Mr. Vanderman sighs. “I suppose I have no legitimate reasons to claim your marriage is not going to last. I am not a prophet. If you will agree to two weeks of observation”—he eyes Cecily with suspicion—“with a professional I will choose for you, then—”
“No.” I swallow, feeling four sets of eyes on me. “I will talk to Dr. Preston, but anyone from Willow Cove will have bias in the matter.”
“Dr. Preston is your friend,” Mr. Vanderman argues with a roll of his eyes. “If anyone is going to have bias…”
I shake my head, pleased when Cecily keeps her expression firm. “No, see, Cecily wants me to move back to New York where she is, so if she says my marriage to King is sound, you’ll know she means it. And if she doesn’t, then you’ll all win. But this marriage is real, so it doesn’t matter.” It’s real, but that doesn’t mean it’s lasting.
King’s expression is hard to see with Cecily standing between us, but I feel his reaction to my words in the twitch of his hand. I wish I knew what it meant.
“I do want her to move back,” Cecily allows. “But I am also firmly professional when it comes to my occupation. If Mr. Kingston is also agreeable to my services, free of charge, of course, as this would not be official counseling due to my relationship with Mrs. Carpenter, then may we proceed?”
Mr. Vanderman looks like he wants to keep arguing, but I think he’s smart enough to know King will likely follow through with his threat and find another attorney to handle our case. I’m pretty sure the only reason King is still willing to work with Vanderman in the first place is because of his friendship with Bill, but that loyalty is waning.
Mr. Vanderman sighs heavily. “Very well. We will reconvene in two weeks, and if Dr. Preston’s report deems this relationship to be healthy and lasting, then we can proceed with our discussions.”
He’s not specifically saying he’ll transfer the bakery to me, but I think this is as good as I’ll get from this guy. I don’t love the idea of spending two more weeks in a marriage with King while there’s still the possibility that it will be for nothing, but I didn’t come into this thinking it was a guarantee. I can handle a few challenges.
Cecily turns to King. “Well, Kingston? Think you can survive a couple of weeks of counseling with your wife’s most favorite person?”
She’s pushing buttons because that’s what she does, and I’m not sure that’s a good idea when it comes to King. He has been more relaxed since the first day I arrived in Willow Cove now that he’s not worried about the bakery, but he’s certainly tense enough right now to snap at her like he did Mr. Vanderman.
To my shock and relief, King leans around Cecily to smile at me. “I thought I was your favorite person.”
I can’t help but smile back at him. “It’s a toss-up. Cecily used to make me smoothies every morning.”
“That’s a tough act to follow.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
“Are we done now?” Coop asks, interrupting our back-and-forth. “Some of us have jobs. Including the two of you. Jury’s out on Princess Shrink and her fancy doctorate.”
Scoffing, Cecily grabs hold of my hand, which is still clinging to King’s, and tugs us toward the door. “Anyone with a real job has the ability to take a vacation.”
Coop barks out a laugh as he follows us out the exit. “I have a real job.”
“I will believe that when I see it, Mr. Heyes.”
“How soon before you go back to New York?”
“No one says you have to hang around while I’m in town.”
“King’s my best friend. I’m not about to—”
“Will you two stop?” I snap that question at the same time King growls low in his throat, so I know he’s as annoyed as I am. At this point, we’ve made it out into the little parking lot outside Mr. Vanderman’s office and are alone, which is nice. I don’t have to feel like I’m under scrutiny for now. “It’s going to be hard enough to get through this marriage as it is, and we don’t need you going after each other’s throats.”
Cecily ducks her head sheepishly, and Coop simply gives King a nod and folds his arms.
I let out a deep breath. “Thank you. Cece, what in the world was that?”
She blinks, though she doesn’t look as innocent as I’m sure she would like to. “What was what?”
“We don’t have time for marriage counseling,” King replies.
“I’m more than happy to work around your schedules.”
King and I share a glance, likely thinking the same thing. “You know you don’t have to actually have any sessions with us, right?” I point out. “You can tell Mr. Vanderman that—”
“Georgiana Tiara Carpenter!” Cecily points a finger at me and looks genuinely angry. “I am not about to lie for you and besmirch my well-respected reputation just because you don’t think you can hack a real marriage.”
Coop snickers. When I glare at him, he shrugs. “I’m not laughing at Miss High-and-Mighty.”
“That’s Mrs. High-and-Mighty to you,” Cecily says.
“Whatever. I’m laughing because your middle name is Tiara.”
I narrow my eyes. “What of it?”
“Nothing at all.”
But it’s not nothing because King’s hand tightens once more around mine, and he’s looking at me with a curious look in his eyes. “I don’t think I knew your middle name.”
Whatever thoughts are going through his head, the expression they’re giving him is making me squirm. “You never needed to know it,” I mutter.
“Agree to disagree,” he mutters back. “Cecily, I know you were trying to help, but we really don’t have time to—”
“Like I said.” Cecily fixes on her therapist stare, which is enough to make me shrink into King’s side in fear of what might be awaiting us in the next two weeks. “I gave that obnoxious attorney my word that I would do this right, so that’s what I’m going to do. You will give me your schedules, and I will find times that work for both of you.” She looks specifically at me. “If you want that bakery, and I know you do, you’ll cooperate.”
I want to argue, but I don’t. “Fine.”
“And you.” She looks at King. “You will be open and honest, no matter how uncomfortable you might be. The goal of this is to talk things through and clear some air so Mr. Vanderman knows you are both trying to make this work, even if it is only for a short time.”
King actually takes a step back, like he might try to run. “I’ll try.”
“No!” Cecily snaps at us. “There’s no ‘try’ in this. Only doing.”
Coop snickers again, and this time all three of us glare at him. “Alright, I can see where I’m not wanted. Have fun with your little project, Mrs. Yoda. You’ll be lucky if they’re both in one piece at the end of all this.”
He wanders off, and though he was probably joking, there’s a good chance I won’t be making it to the other side in one piece if Cecily is truly going to make us go through the process of counseling, or whatever it is she plans to do. I’m likely to end with a heart split in two.