Grounds For Marriage

‘Right,’ Tully said. ‘Are we talking about one biscuit?’

Lacey shook her head. ‘Of course not. It’s just that you...’

She hadn’t meant the conversation to go this way. She’d pictured a friendly cup of coffee over a plate of fresh-baked biscuits, a few minutes of casual talk, and then herself saying, ‘By the way...’

She jumped up and turned to the counter, scooping half a dozen biscuits onto a plate that she put down on the table before resuming her seat.

‘A peace offering?’ Tully looked from her to the plate and back again. ‘Or coals of fire?’

Reluctantly, she smiled. ‘Neither. Help yourself.’

He took one of the biscuits and bit off half of it, sipped some coffee and said, ‘I get a kick out of watching her enjoy things. You don’t really think having fun is bad for her, do you?’

She said sharply, ‘It’s all very well for you to treat her as a combination of playmate and pet. Someone has to impose some discipline in her life.’

Tully put his cup down, his eyes going darker. ‘Someone being you?’

“There is no one else—is there?’ Her resentful hazel eyes met his.

A faint frown drew his black brows together. ‘You’ve always said you could manage alone...’

‘I have—for ten years. But apparently you don’t agree with the way I’ve raised Emma.’

He looked at her for a moment and said, ‘She’s a lovely kid and .a credit to you. But do you mind if I put in my two cents worth now and then?’

He’d put more—much more—than two cents worth into making Emma’s life, and Lacey’s, easier than it might have been. ‘No,’ she muttered finally. ‘Of course I don’t mind.’

‘You’re touchy today. It isn’t like you.’ He inspected her face searchingly. ‘Is something wrong?’

It was her cue. Somehow it no longer seemed the right time to break the news, but she tried to smile and look happy. She was happy! ‘There’s nothing wrong,’ she said. ‘Just the opposite, in fact. I... have something to tell you. Even Emma doesn’t know yet, because I thought she might blurt it out to you, and I would rather you heard it from me...’ She stopped to take a wavery breath.

Tully looked warily alert, his strong hand curled about his cup on the table. ‘So what is it?’

She swallowed, and said, ‘I’m planning to get married.’

For perhaps three seconds Tully didn’t move, just sat staring at her, his expression a total blank.

Then he moved like an explosion, scraping his chair away from the table so it screeched on the floor and the jacket hanging over the back swung violently. ‘You’re what?’

Looking at him looming over her, Lacey blinked. ‘I’m getting married,’ she repeated. ‘You heard me.’

Tully shook his head as though to clear it. ‘I heard. I just didn’t believe it.’

‘I don’t see why not,’ she said tartly. ‘I’m free and way past twenty-one—but not exactly over the hill yet—sane, not suffering from any communicable disease, and have all my own teeth...’

‘All right!’ Tully cut in gratingly. ‘I wasn’t trying to be insulting.’

‘Well, be sure to tell me when you are trying so I’ll know the difference!’

He gave a reluctant crack of laughter. ‘It was just... unexpected.’ He hooked the chair round with his foot so that its back faced her, dropping down astride it with his chin resting on his folded arms along the back. His eyes looked black and brilliant, fixing intently on her. ‘So...’ he said. ‘Who’s the lucky man?’

Lacey relaxed slightly. The worst was over. ‘His name’s Julian,’ she said. ‘Julian Wye. He’s a solicitor.’

‘Emma’s never mentioned any Julian Wye. How long have you known him?’

‘I first met him a couple of years ago. He was a friend of a friend.’

‘And now he’s your friend. Your...fiancé?’

‘It’s not official yet. There are complications.’

‘What sort of complications?’

‘For one thing Emma may need time to get used to the idea, and Julian has a sixteen-year-old daughter—’

Tully’s head lifted as he straightened. ‘How old is this guy?’

‘Thirty-nine. He’s—’

‘He’s too old for you!’

‘I don’t think so. Anyway, it’s not relevant.’

‘You want to marry some guy who’s nearly forty, and you think it’s not relevant?’

‘I’m nearly thirty.’

‘No, you’re not,’ he argued. ‘I’m not even thirty yet. He’s a dozen years older than you!’

‘Eleven. Anyway,’ she said, brushing aside the question of relative ages, ‘the thing is, I need your help.’

‘Whoa!’ Tully said. ‘Just hang on a minute. What about the mother of this sixteen-year-old daughter of his? Is he divorced?’

‘She died,’ Lacey said. ‘Julian had to bring up Desma by himself.’

‘And she lives with him?’

‘Of course. He’s her father:

‘I’m Emma’s father.’

‘That’s different.’

‘Is it? I thought there was only one way to father a child. Leaving aside test-tubes...’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Ah. You mean we weren’t married.’ He paused. ‘You know the offer is still open.’