The Cold Wife Read online

  Jake stood by the table and talked with Harrison Sr. Justin’s eyes scanned the nearby tables and he saw his uncle within earshot of the elder Grant. To Justin, his uncle didn’t even seem to be listening in on the conversation since he was talking with someone else, but he knew that his uncle was able to hear everything that was being said between Jake and Harrison Sr. How does Uncle Jonathan do it?

  Justin followed Nathan to the table.

  “I certainly am interested in getting to speak with Mr. Leroy.” Harrison shook Jake’s hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Jake replied.

  Justin noticed his uncle say good-bye to the person he spoke with so he could follow the elder Grant.

  “Jake, this is Justin Monroe,” Nathan introduced. “Justin is Jonathan Monroe’s nephew. I already explained that you’ll be taking over as vice president at the Leroy Bank.”

  Justin shook Jake’s hand. “Good afternoon.”

  Jake smiled in return. “Good afternoon. I heard you and your uncle stopped by to talk to Mr. Leroy this morning. If he decides to contract out to your uncle’s investment firm, then I’ll be working with you on a regular basis.”

  “I see that the Grants are competing for the same privilege,” Nathan noted.

  “Yes. They will meet with Mr. Leroy tomorrow. He doesn’t like to make any decisions right away, so he’ll most likely take a couple of days before making a decision.”

  “You should be careful when it comes to the Grants. They aren’t what they seem.”

  “That can be said of many people.”

  Justin sensed he was talking about the ex-fiancée that Nathan had mentioned.

  “The decision isn’t mine to make,” Jake continued. “It’s Conrad’s bank, so it’ll be his choice. Fortunately, he shows good business sense.”

  “There are some men who are wary of the Grants.”

  “They should be.”

  Nathan turned to Justin. “I suspect that Harrison Grant desires to take over the bank and establish his own.”

  “My uncle has similar suspicions,” Justin replied. “The Grants seem to be bankrupting their competitors, so he wonders if they’re slowly building a monopoly in this town.”

  “He’s not moving that slow,” Jake said. “He’s moving swiftly. But you know what the book of Proverbs says: when money is obtained quickly, it’s quickly lost.”

  “Quite a bit of damage can occur between those two events,” Nathan remarked.

  “True.” Jake glanced at Justin. “Let’s just hope we’re not among the casualties.”

  Justin suddenly wondered how serious the Grant threat was to him and his uncle. His eyes scanned the room until he saw the younger Harrison who was talking and laughing with Mr. Lowe and Mr. Osmund. He had a funny feeling that he would be seeing a lot more of the questionable man in the future.

  Chapter Twelve

  Carrie couldn’t get Justin out of her mind. She desperately tried to forget him but he haunted her thoughts. When she looked at the cookies that the orphans were eating, she recalled his comments regarding her figure. When she saw Mr. and Mrs. Evans talk to Tom and Ian, she recalled how he asked her if any part of her wanted a husband and children. Then she saw a male brunette who walked by the orphanage in a dark blue suit that looked like Justin from behind. For a moment, she wondered if he came by to see her, but when the man looked over his shoulder, it wasn’t Justin after all. And she was shocked by her disappointment. She shook her head. She would not give that man, who insisted on being her husband, another thought. Unfortunately, others were not willing to let her forget him.

  When she sat by Mary and Helen, Mary asked her how things were going with Justin.

  “They are bearable,” she reluctantly admitted.

  “Bearable?” Helen examined her from across the table. “Your face got redder than a tomato when she said his name.”

  “It’s hot. I’m burning up. You know how the August air affects me.”

  Helen grinned. “I agree you’re burning up, but it’s not from the temperature.”

  Carrie rolled her eyes and ignored the woman. Things were a lot easier when she had it in her mind that he was boring and she dreaded the very thought of being near him. She didn’t want to recall how much she enjoyed his kisses or the way he touched her. Then he opted to have Jim make one of his pizzas because he heard that she was interested in trying the chef’s recipes, and to top it all off, he gave her spending money. The fact that he was taking note of her wishes and looking for ways to please her greatly annoyed her. How was she supposed to keep her focus on getting out of the marriage if he insisted on treating her so well?

  Mrs. Edwards walked over to them. “I want to thank you for making the cookies,” she told Carrie. “You had a wonderful idea to add nuts to them. Chocolate chip nut cookies. Who would have thought of it?

  “Oh, I can’t take credit for that,” Carrie replied. “It was Jim’s idea. He recommended it while we were mixing the second batch of cookie dough.”

  “Who’s Jim?” Helen asked.

  “He’s one of Justin’s chefs. He just started working there, and he wants to open a pizza restaurant someday. He’s actually very good. I had a breakfast pizza this morning,” she answered.

  “What is in a breakfast pizza?” Mrs. Edwards wondered.

  “Eggs, bacon, and ham. It actually tasted good.”

  “How intriguing. Will he make any of his pizzas at one of Mr. Monroe’s dinner parties?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Louis is the head chef.”

  “Tell Jim that his idea was a big hit.”

  “He’ll be pleased you said that.”

  Mrs. Edwards nodded and left.

  “Wasn’t Jim the chef would messed up the pies at your engagement party?” Mary asked.

  “Yes but he was nervous with Louis watching everything he was doing. When Louis isn’t around, he doesn’t goof up like he did last Thursday,” Carrie said. “He’s actually a fun person to be around.”

  “Where does Mr. Monroe fit into that?” Mary looked concerned.

  “I know what you’re asking. No, I do not have a romantic interest in Jim.”

  A thought flashed through Carrie’s mind. Jim was a good man who would make a good husband. She studied her friend who was adjusting the lace on her sleeve. Mary would probably get along wonderfully with Jim.

  “Mary,” Carrie slowly began, “when are the costumes for the play going to be ready?”

  Mary looked startled by the question. Even Helen raised an eyebrow.

  “I want to see what you’ll be wearing,” Carrie quickly explained. It was a little white lie but she had a plan and didn’t want Mary’s or Jim’s financial status to interfere with it.

  “I think they’ll be ready on Thursday,” her friend said.

  “Good! Can you come to my house this Thursday around two in the afternoon with one of those dresses on? I might be able to make the necessary alterations there.” She knew that Jim planned to try another new recipe at two on that day, so he would be in the kitchen.

  Mrs. Elan, who owned the orphanage, walked over to their table. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Ritter, Miss Duff, and Mrs. Monroe.”

  Carrie still felt strange whenever people referred to her as Mrs. Monroe. She didn’t exactly hate being called that. She just wasn’t used to it. There was that initial moment when she thought the person was talking to someone else.

  “Who is that sweet angel?” Helen asked, nodding to the sleeping boy in Mrs. Elan’s arms. “I don’t recall seeing him before.”

  “All I know about him is that his name is Ryan and he’s one. Someone knocked on the door of the orphanage and left him on the doorstep with a note tied around his neck. He was asleep when I opened the door. I assume whoever dropped him off waited to see if I took him in. The doctor came to look at him and said he’s healthy. He certainly is a mystery.”

  “He’s a cute little boy,” the old woman acknowledged.
/>   Ryan had light blond hair and a fair complexion. He was snuggled in Mrs. Elan’s arms and had his blue blanket close to him.

  “So you don’t know anything else about him or his parents?” Carrie asked.

  “No, I don’t. He’s been well cared for. Someone obviously loved him.”

  “I wonder why his guardian let him go,” Helen sadly commented. “I bet the person didn’t want to do it.”

  “Sometimes people are forced into giving up their children,” Mrs. Elan said. “I’m just glad Ryan’s parents chose to bring him here where he has a chance of being adopted. Ryan has been withdrawn and spends most of his time sucking his thumb with his favorite blanket. The staff and I give him lots of affection. Children at this young age thrive better when held often.”

  “I’d take him in a heartbeat if I didn’t live in a nursing home,” Helen said.

  “I want to take in every child that shows up here, but I already have my hands full with twelve children. Sometimes it’s difficult to see these children without parents to care for them, but this orphanage is much better than the cases I’ve heard where some are abused or left to go hungry on the streets. At least here, they are taken care of.”

  “When did he come here?” Carrie wondered.

  “On Wednesday.”

  “He must miss the person who left him here.”

  “They all do for awhile. He is young enough that he will eventually forget that person.”

  “Can I hold him?”

  Mrs. Elan nodded and gently placed the child in Carrie’s lap. Ryan stirred but didn’t wake. He clutched his blanket to his chest. She put her arms around him and smiled. It felt good to hold him.

  “Someday, you might hold your own little one,” Helen said.

  Carrie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Once again, she was reminded of Justin. Would he always continue to plague her thoughts?

  ***

  Later that day when she arrived at her new home, she was greeted with a bouquet of yellow tulips in a crystal vase. Attached to the bouquet was a card from Justin that told her the color yellow symbolized friendship, which was the foundation for their marriage.

  “Mr. Monroe is taken with you,” Jim commented when she brought the flowers to the kitchen to put more water in the vase.

  “Taken? He’s in love,” Constance remarked. “He never thought of flowers before. It’s always been investments and clients.”

  “I knew that was all he talked about,” Carrie said, satisfied that she had understood that much about him.

  “It certainly isn’t all he’s talking about anymore,” Jim stated. “The only time I think of something other than food is when I’m in love.”

  “Then I take it that you aren’t in love at the moment?” Carrie asked, hopeful.

  “No, Mrs. Monroe. I am not.”

  Perfect! Her plan to fix him up with Mary just might work. She examined the kitchen. It didn’t seem to be the right place for the flowers. “I suppose I should put these in the parlor that has the couches and chairs. That room is more comfortable than the one with the long oval table.”

  “Mr. Monroe uses the parlor with the table for his business dinner parties,” the maid informed her. “The other parlor is intended for you when you wish to entertain. He even changed it for you. You may decorate it however you wish.”

  “What did it look like before?” she wondered.

  “It had a desk and lots of books. The books he reads are business books. He’s not a fiction reader.”

  And my brother and father wondered why I thought he was dull. She couldn’t imagine enjoying a business book. She wondered if they did have anything in common, besides a mutual physical attraction for each other. She had given up on convincing herself that she wasn’t attracted to him. He was too good looking for her not to enjoy looking at, and his kisses and touches made her light-headed. She shook her head. There had to be more to a marriage than physical attraction.

  She set the flowers in her parlor. She hadn’t realized that this was her special room. She already thought of several things she wanted to do to make the place look more appealing. She fancied the image of scenic paintings. She loved the beach, so a couple of paintings of the ocean waves roaring along the sand would go very well with the blue furniture. A painting or two of mountains covered in snow would go well with the white furniture. She glanced at the crystal vase. It would be nice to start a collection of crystal figurines. She loved crystal. A display case for those figurines would look nice in the corner of the room. The heavy blue curtains had to go. She wanted white lacy curtains to give the room a more feminine feel and to let the sunlight in. She decided that the room did have many possibilities.

  “I hope you find this room to your liking.”

  She recognized Justin’s voice. She put the vase down on the small oak table in the center of the room and turned her attention to him. “I will once I get through redecorating it.”

  “It’s all yours.” He walked over to her and lightly kissed her. “Aren’t you going to welcome me home after a hard day at work?”

  She sighed. “Must you persist in keeping this marriage going?”

  His eyes widened. “You’re the one who’s going to change this room. I took that as an indicator that you planned to stay.”

  “Only for the month I’m required to be here.”

  “You’ll spend the rest of your life here.”

  The fact that he seemed so sure of himself made her that much more determined to prove him wrong. She crossed her arms and glared at him.

  He ignored her open rebellion. Instead, he gently took her by the elbow to lead her to the couch. “Will you have a seat?”

  “No.” She didn’t budge.

  To her surprise, he picked her up in his arms and sat down. He held her close to him and sat her on his lap. She was too shocked to react in time to stop him from kissing her neck.

  She pushed aside the delightful sensations his kissing produced and quickly stood back up.

  He had amazing reflexes for he grabbed her hand and said, “If you don’t sit by me, I’ll pull you back onto my lap. Or we could go upstairs and make sure you don’t leave at the end of the month.”

  She loudly sighed so he would understand how much this pained her and plopped next to him on the couch.

  He chuckled. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  She refused to look at him. She wouldn’t let him get to her. She wouldn’t fall in love with someone she was forced into marrying.

  “I see you got my flowers.”

  She kept quiet.

  “I meant what I wrote. I fully intend to find out all there is to know about you, and you can find out all there is to know about me. Since you don’t want to talk, I’ll begin. I was born on August 17, 1870 to Jeremiah and Catherine Monroe. When I was two, they died in a buggy accident and Uncle Jonathan adopted me and raised me as his own.”

  “You were an orphan?” she interrupted.

  “Yes. Didn’t you know that?”

  She shook her head. Somehow finding that out after holding Ryan earlier that day made her feel sympathy for him. She was grateful that her parents had lived to see her become an adult. She couldn’t imagine anyone but them raising her.

  “I don’t remember my parents. I have pictures. My uncle tells me about them. Uncle Jonathan was my father’s brother and they were close. The firm he owns was actually started by him and my father. That’s how I came to work there.”

  “Can I see a picture of your parents?”

  He nodded and led her to the other parlor. In the large desk that was to the side of the room, he pulled out a drawer that contained a photo album. He showed her the picture of the young man and woman.

  “They look happy,” she commented.

  “My dad was twenty-one and my mother was eighteen when they married.”

  Her eyes fell on the date written under the picture. The thought that she and Justin were already older than his parents had been when
they died made her shiver. “They look so young. You look a lot like your father, though you have a hint of your mother in you. I can see where you got your good looks.” She quickly shut her mouth before she said anything else. The last thing she wanted to do was encourage him!

  He smiled. “It’s nice to know you find me to your liking.”

  She blushed.

  He turned back to the album and said, “Apparently, my father was outgoing. I must get my shy nature from my mother.”

  For some reason, he didn’t strike her as someone who was shy. He certainly made enough advances at her for her to assume he was outgoing.

  As if he could read her mind, he explained, “I do better with small groups, especially when I deal with just one or two people at a time. But in large groups, I tend to listen rather than talk. We have a dinner party to attend on Wednesday. You are free to invite a friend or two to come so you have someone to talk to. I’m afraid I’ll have to spend the evening talking to some clients.”

  She frowned. “You didn’t ask me if I wanted to go.”

  “Don’t you like going to dinner parties? I’ve seen you at a lot of them. You looked like you enjoyed talking to Miss Muse and Miss Duff. Was I wrong in assuming that you would want to attend a dinner party at Mr. and Mrs. Walker’s residence?”

  “I do like going to dinner parties as long as I have someone to talk to, and I do like Mr. and Mrs. Walker. I know Mrs. Walker fairly well since she owns the nursing home. I would like to go to it but I’m upset because you didn’t even ask me if it was something I wanted to do.”

  “I’m sorry, Carrie. I will be sure to ask in the future. If it’s something you don’t want to go to, then we can do something else that night.”

  “You won’t go to a dinner party if I don’t want to go to it?”

  “No. You’re my wife and I want to be with you.” He looked at her. “Should I put this back?” He motioned to the album.