~ The Finer Things In Life ~

by

Ann B. Morris

It wouldn’t have worked. Not in a million years, would it have worked, Emma repeated to herself over and over as she hurried down the sidewalk. At the corner she rushed across the street to wait for the approaching streetcar.

She had taken a cab to the meeting with Sam Stone, intending to take one back as well. Under the circumstances though, she couldn’t very well have waited thirty minutes or more under his roof for a return cab.

Hurry, hurry, hurry, she chanted silently, stomping her feet against the cold and pushing her hands deeper into her pockets. Her fingers automatically curled around the crumpled piece of paper. Sam Stone’s address and private telephone number should she have needed to call him before her visit. She mashed the piece of paper into her palm with the tips of her fingers and shook her head in consternation.

Fifty thousand dollars. The man must be insane. No one in his right mind would pay that kind of money to marry a complete stranger. Especially not someone like Dr. Sam Stone who must certainly be at the top of the list of every eligible woman on the social register. For some reason that thought brought a knot to her stomach.

She climbed aboard the streetcar and found a seat near the back, closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on the thwack, thwack, thwack of the car’s wheels against the iron tracks. It didn’t work. All she heard was Sam Stone’s voice. We won’t be sleeping together. We won’t be sleeping together.

She forced her attention outside the window while the streetcar clacked its way past some of the oldest and most elegant homes in one of the oldest and wealthiest neighborhoods of New Orleans. But all she saw was Sam Stone’s eyes peering at her from behind the tortoise rims, baby Mallory’s arms reaching out to her, Meredith’s warm smile of recognition.

Darn it all. Why did she have to leave so abruptly? She could have at least listened to his explanation. It wouldn’t have changed anything, but it might have made him feel a little better. It might have made her feel better, too. Instead, she felt terrible. Ashamed of herself. After all, he hadn’t asked her to do anything illegal or illicit. He’d simply asked her to marry him. A marriage in name only.

Still, people didn’t do that anymore. Not in America, anyway. People married for love, or at least they were supposed to. She knew there must be other reasons some people married, but what he had suggested was so impersonal, so lacking in any kind of emotion, so…so perfunctory. No, she couldn’t do it, no matter how much he paid her.

She would call John McCurdy the minute she got home and let him know how upset she was. If he had given her the slightest hint of what Sam Stone had in mind she would never have agreed to meet him at all. By now she would probably have found another job and another apartment.

She thought suddenly of the children and her disappointment over the unexpected turn of events was magnified. She’d been looking forward to taking care of them much more than she’d realized.

~ * ~

"Hi, buddy, how’d it go today?" John asked optimistically from the other end of the line.

"Lousy. I blew it." Sam didn’t bother to hide his disappointment or his agitation. It was already eight o’clock at night. He had waited all day for John to return his call.

"You blew it? How the hell did you do that? I was sure it was a no-brainer. She’s perfect for the job."

"Well evidently the job isn’t perfect for her. Especially the final condition of employment."

"Uh-oh. You couldn’t sell her on the marriage part, huh? I was afraid of that. It does sound a trifle weird you know. Definitely not your everyday employment requisite."

"I even offered to double the bonus."

John let out a whistle so loud it hurt Sam’s ear. "Damn. You must have really liked her. I figured you would. She still wouldn’t go for it, not even for fifty grand?"

Sam ignored the question and posed one of his own. "And by the way, did you have to choose someone so pretty? I thought we agreed plain, average, girl-next-door type. Emma George is definitely none of the above."

John chuckled. "Don’t tell me she got to you. Don’t tell me Emma George melted the igloo of Ice King Sam Stone."

Sam bristled. Best friend or not, if John had been standing in front of him right then, he would have throttled him. Or at least given him a poisonous glare. "Don’t be absurd. You know what my priorities are. What my future plans are. Find someone else. I know there were other applicants."

"None that came close to measuring up to Emma. She was the front-runner by far."

"Well, I think we’re forced to at least consider number two. Number one doesn’t want the job and I think it’s best that it turned out the way it did. She may have other great qualifications, but after meeting her I don’t think she’d fit in my plans very well."

"You never were a good liar, Sam."

Damn. John always could see right through him. Even as kids he could never pull the wool over John’s eyes.

"A woman like her would never last two years, John. I’d be going through this process all over again in two months. And there isn’t enough time left for that." And I’d have gotten used to having her around. To seeing her everyday. To expecting sparks every time we happened to touch.

"What do you mean a woman like her? She checked out fine. Great references. She’s intelligent, focused. Good with your kids. I think you’re way off-base here, Sam."

There was no way he could deny any of that--especially the part about the kids. He had seen the way they looked at her, happier than he had seen them in a long time. And the baby had actually preferred her to him. But there was the other concern.

"I’m sure she has guys hanging all over her all the time. That’s probably why she wouldn’t even consider the…the other thing."

Exasperated, John let out an audible sigh. "I went over that very thoroughly with her. She assured me there’s no one even remotely important in her life. She has the next few years planned out in detail. A serious relationship isn’t in the picture for her any more than one is for you. I don’t think she’s lying about that. And you know I’m a pretty good judge of people, Sam."

Yes, he definitely knew that. John had always been a better judge of people than he--especially where women were concerned. After all, he hadn’t had much practice. Since Elise’s death he had kept any woman who showed the least bit of interest in him at arms length. Except for Cammy. And she was the reason he had suddenly come up with this insane idea of marrying a stranger to begin with.

"Let me at least talk to her," John said.

"It won’t do any good. I may not know a lot about women, but I know Emma George meant what she said."

"There’s still no harm in trying. Maybe after she’s had time to think about it, she’ll change her mind. Maybe she’ll at least hear you out. Give you a fair chance to explain."

Maybe she would, but he doubted it. "If you want to waste more of your time, I guess I can’t stop you." He chuckled. "Just don’t put the time on my bill."

John snorted. "Night, Sam."

Sam snorted right back. "Good luck, John."

Knowing his friend as well as he did, Sam knew he wouldn’t give up this easily. Well, good buddy, he thought, as he trudged up the stairs, knock yourself out trying to make this work, but my guess is you’ll come up short with Emma George just like I did.