A Will and a Wedding

Mr. Jones coughed discreetly behind his hand, hiding his thoughts behind a large white handkerchief.

“And after this research you feel you have an idea of what you want?”

“I know exactly what I want in the mother of my son, Mr. Jones.” He enumerated the qualities for the lawyer. “Calm, rational, levelheaded, to name a few traits. Unemotional. A woman who won’t expect to be involved in my life other than in matters to do with my child in the first few months of his life.”

There was a gleam in the older man’s eyes that was extremely disconcerting.

“This hypothetical woman, then. You believe she will just calmly hand over her child and disappear? That the two of you would live happily ever after?”

Jefferson nodded.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I want from the contract. A calm, rational agreement between two adults.” He barely heard the mumbled aside.

“Seems to me a woman would have to be very calm to agree to such a thing. Dead, in fact.” Mr. Jones shook his head slowly.

“I would make it worth her while,” Jefferson rushed in and then stopped, appalled at how the words sounded when you said them out loud.

His face flushed a deep red at the intensity of Jones’s scrutiny. Jefferson had always known he came from a family of wealth and prestige; tact and diplomacy were the rule. Never once had he been tempted to misuse his assets. But suddenly he wished he could spend a portion of his father’s overblown bank account to buy back those words, unsay them.

Lawyer Jones evidently felt the same way for he frowned, his wise blue eyes accusing in their scrutiny.

“But what about this woman? How long will you need her? What happens to her once the first few months of the baby’s life have passed and you no longer need her? Do you expect she will have no feelings for the child.that she’ll just disappear with cash in hand?”

When stated in those terms, Jefferson’s plan sounded arrogant; even slightly odious.

The older man snorted in disbelief.

“And.what if the child is a girl?”

Jefferson hadn’t thought about that.

“And what do you tell the child about his mother in ten or fifteen years?” the old man asked in a no-nonsense voice.

It was too much information overload, especially on a day when everything seemed out of sync.

“I don’t know. But I’m confident that I can handle whatever needs to be done.” Even now, Jefferson’s mind whirled with plans.

He had chosen a name for the boy. Breaking with eons of family tradition, Jefferson had decided his son would be named Robert, Bobby for short. It was all planned out, everything was in place. His lawyers had the financial details organized into a formal agreement.

“Mr. Jones, I merely require the right woman for my purpose. It will mean that my business plans for expansion will have to be shelved for the moment, but I feel it’s worth it.” Jefferson hoped the man understood that he would not be swayed by these trivial problems.

Willard T. Jones sat polishing his round spectacles, staring at them for a long solemn moment. When he finally glanced up, Jefferson caught a sparkle of amusement in the old man’s eyes.

“Well, Mr. Haddon. I’m sure you’ve thought about this long and hard. If I may, I’d like to offer a suggestion.”

Jefferson nodded.

“My advice is this. Put everything on hold. The issue of Miss McNaughton’s estate has yet to be settled and if you recall-” he smiled dryly “-your marital status may well change.”

“Oh, I don’t.”

“In six months’ time, the entire picture will look very different. I suggest you take the time necessary to think everything through. You might start with the estate.” Jones tipped back in his chair and gazed at the ceiling while speaking. “Judith Evelyn McNaughton was a cagey, stubborn old woman who went to the grave with a last-ditch effort to manipulate you into marriage. She specially chose Cassie Newton.”

Privately, Jefferson thought Judith’s latest bid for control of his future made all her other matchmaking attempts picayune by comparison.

“She knew how hard you’ve worked to make a success of your company. Just last month she was telling me of your need to expand your business. And of your need for more cash.”

Jefferson was startled by the words.

“I didn’t realize she had kept such close track of me while I’ve been out of the country,” he murmured, staring at his hands.

“She wanted you to have the means to expand.”

Jefferson grinned. “But only if I got it on her terms. Good old Judith.”

“The way I see it,” the older man continued, “she gave you two months’ grace. Think long and hard before you decide, my boy. Make very sure you won’t regret giving up the very things Judith wanted you to have.”

As he walked down the street, Jefferson Haddon shook his head at the ridiculous situation he found himself in. Memories, sharp and clear, tumbled around in his mind. He could still visualize Judith’s thin, severe face with that prim mouth pressed into a firm line as she bawled him out.

“One must always consider the other person, Jefferson. For in one way or another, whatever you do will affect him.”

That had been the time Freddie Hancock has socked Jefferson in the nose for saying Freddie’s mother was fat. Well, Jefferson grinned fondly, it was true. All the Hancocks had been fat. But Mrs. Hancock was enormous and when her arms wrapped around him in a hug, his eightyear-old body had been suffocated against her overflowing abundance.

He’d also been embarrassed. Aunt Judith had remonstrated with him on the social niceties before patting his hand gently.

“That’s the way many people show their affection for you, dear,” she had said. Her golden eyes had been sad. “I wish you would open up more. Most people just want to be friends. If you give them a chance, you will enjoy them.”

Needless to say, that had not been Jefferson’s experience. There were few opportunities for boyhood friends in the austere home his father maintained and very little free time to pursue such interests. There were even fewer people in Jefferson’s young life who had ever hugged him.

Aunt Judith had understood that. She had also been one of the few to whom he had granted that particular privilege. And as she gathered his gangly body against her thin, frail frame, he’d felt warm and cared for inside.

His mouth curved in remembrance.

Of course, Melisande Gustendorf had tried to hug him a number of times in those days. Usually when he was with the guys. Mel would sneak up behind them and wrap her arms around him. She was weird that way. And at twelve, what boy wants to be hugged in public by a girl?

Jefferson smiled fondly as he remembered the lesson about birds and bees that Aunt Judith had related when she heard about Melisande. Aunt Judith had never married; never had children. Explaining the details must have been embarrassing, but she had persevered until Jefferson’s every question had been answered. And then he had made darned good and sure Melisande never got within six feet of him!

His memories of Aunt Judith made him chuckle as he drove back to his penthouse apartment on the waterfront. Most of the time he was satisfied with the place. But today he felt hemmed in, constricted by his aloof tower.

“Dinky little rooms stuck way up in the sky,” Judith had scolded him constantly about his chosen lifestyle. “You live out of reach of people. Why, you can’t even touch God’s wonderful creation, the earth, without driving for twenty minutes.”

In a way, Judith was right. From his panoramic living room windows, he could see the city clothed in her glorious fall colors. By late October the leaves had all turned to vibrant oranges, brilliant reds and sunny yellows. Many had fallen, but there were still enough to create a picturesque view.

But it would take a while to drive to one of the reserves, park his car, and walk among the beauty.

“You should be out in the fresh air, chop a few logs when the weather gets crisp. A fire feels good in that stone fireplace when winter sets in.”

“But Aunt Judith, I have to be near my work.”