The Million-Dollar Marriage

He had never even kissed her. None of those passionate, all-consuming, erotic sensations that had once rippled through her body on a Nevada mountaintop. A love she had lost and never hoped to find again.

This couldn’t be it, could it? Couldn’t love a man just because he held his fork in his left hand and handled a rototiller with ease, could she?

But there it was. A warm, sure knowing. A feeling that she had found someone wonderful, someone warm, caring and dependable. A feeling that she had come home to a man she would love forever.

Come home to...? Good heavens! What made her think he would have these same crazy mixed-up impossible sensations!

She tried to get back on track, and focused on the conversation at the table.

Pedro’s deep laugh bellowed out. “Married into money, did he?”

“Guess so. More’n he’d ever had, anyway,” Tony said. “She’s got some kind of catering business that’s beginning to pay off.”

“So you lost the only employee in your little posy business.”

Mel didn’t like the way Pedro said that. Like he was putting Tony’s business down.

Tony didn’t seem to mind. He answered readily enough. “Wasn’t much help anyway, the lazy slob.”

“What’s his wife like, Tony?” Rosalie wanted to know.

“Busty blonde. Kinda good-looking, but a bit bossy for my taste. Joe’ll be dancing to her tune the rest of his life.”

“But he’s pretty well set, ain’t he?” Pedro’s laugh rang out again. “Maybe you should follow Joe’s example, Tony. If you’re gonna stick with posies, you could use some support.”

“No thank you. I prefer to dance to my own tune.”

“Atta boy!” Pedro slapped his brother on the back. “You might be a posy peddler, but you’re a Costello all the way, right?”

“Right,” Tony agreed.

“Yep, we Costello men support our women. They don’t support us.” Pedro now addressed his remarks to Mel. “My little Rosalie hasn’t worked a day since she married me.”

Mel smiled and nodded an approval which she didn’t exactly feel. It looked as if Rosalie was working her head off right now.

But she had just learned something important. About somebody named Joe, and about Costello men.

Maybe she shouldn’t tell Tony she was rich. Not yet.

CHAPTER FOUR

“YOU love the farm, don’t you?” Mel asked as Tony merged the truck onto the freeway.

“Yeah. It’s...well, kinda home base for all I plan to do.” His face brightened as he began to talk of his plans, how he would divide each plot, where he would set out the trees, which would be reserved for the greenhouses. “All that rich soil. It’s a perfect place for a nursery, and I’m itchy to get started. But I have to go slow. It’ll take quite a bit of capital to set it up right.”

“You could borrow.” Every venture her father went into was on somebody else’s money, not his.

“Can’t borrow without security.”

“The land...”

“Belongs to my grandparents, the only security they have. Grandpa was running into debts the last few years, but he never borrowed. I think they were sorry when the sale didn’t go through, but with the present zoning laws, they wouldn’t get enough to sustain them. They’re leasing it to me for peanuts, but I plan to make it up to them when I get going.” His voice rang with confidence and determination. She felt in her heart that it wouldn’t be long before he “got going.”

“Do you spend much time out there?” she asked.

“Not as much as I’d like to. Got a room in town near the school and more convenient for the jobs I pick up.”

“But you’d rather be at the farm?”

“Oh, sure. And I stay there as much as I can. Still have my old room.”

“Your old room? You spent a lot of time there as a kid?”

“Every summer.”

“Your brothers, too?”

“Only me. Frank and Pedro were into baseball and wouldn’t leave the city, and Marie was too little.”

“Marie?” This was the first she had heard of a sister.

“Baby of the family, and the only girl. She’s at City College now. Really into drama, which bugs the hell out of Pop.”

“Why? If she enjoys it...”

“Wrong crowd for his little girl.” Tony grinned. “Guess Pop must have read one or two of those wild stories about actresses in People magazine.”

“Oh.” Mel wondered if Tony’s family really lived in the twentieth century. His grandparents must be out of this world. And she was about to meet them. No wonder she had the jitters.

But the jitters began to dissipate as they left the city noise and traffic for the comparatively uncrowded countryside. There was something magically calming about the quiet, the smell of country air, the sight of rolling green pastures and acres of freshly tilled earth.

“Here we are,” Tony said as he turned the truck into a tree-shaded lane. The lane led to a two-story clapboard house that seemed small under three towering oaks. There was a banistered porch that wrapped around the house. There was a frisky dog that ran across the lawn to meet them.

There was the feeling that she had come home to something warm, solid and enduring. Strange. She tried to understand it as she jumped down to pet the dog that greeted them with excited barks.

Suddenly the peace was broken by a woman’s voice, frantic, cutting through the yelps of the dog. “Tony! Thank God. Come quick!”

Tony sprinted into the house, Mel following, somewhat impeded by the dog. By the time she entered the wide living room, Tony was kneeling beside a large man who was sprawled across the four steps of a landing which led to a steep stairway. A small woman also knelt beside him, and the dog was licking his face.

The man was cursing. “Damn it! I’m all right I tell you. Down, Cocoa down! Damn it, Tony, get this fool mongrel the hell off me!”

“Just keep still, Al. Is he hurt?” The woman anxiously questioned Tony who seemed to be checking for broken bones.