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“On the sofa. It’s called a futon.”
He shook his head.
“What?”
“You’ll have your own bedroom at my condo. I have three bedrooms, so it will be just fine. I promise.”
When they finally arrived at Joe’s condo, he unlocked the door and swung her up into his arms. She clutched him around the neck. “What are you doing?”
“It’s a tradition in America. The groom carries the bride over the threshold of their first house.” He carried her into the place and set her down, giving her a kiss that wouldn’t be easily forgotten. He was breathing a little heavily when he stepped back.
“But we’re aren’t—”
“Shh. I don’t need to kiss you again this soon. But I’ll have to if you’re going to say anything inappropriate.” He grinned, trying to convince her he was kidding. But she took a couple of steps back.
“So what do you think?” he asked, waving his arm to indicate he was asking about his condo. It was well designed, with blue-and-cream-colored decor. Ginger began to prowl around. When she came to a door, she would ask permission to open it. His bedroom didn’t receive much inspection, but the other two bedrooms, with a bathroom between, were closely examined. The kitchen, however, received the most attention. It was large, with modern appliances, all sparkling clean.
“This is beautiful!” Ginger exclaimed.
“I’m glad you like it. I’ve designed my dream home, but since my move to Mission Creek was temporary, I didn’t see any point in building it yet. This condo has been fine for me.”
She gave him a strange look. Then she asked, “Which room shall I use?”
“Either one. But I think the second one is larger. Tomorrow we’ll pack up your apartment and see if we can get your deposit back. Did you pay first and last month?”
She nodded.
“Okay, I’ll talk to the manager. I’m going out to get your bags,” he said, and turned toward the door.
“I can go get them.”
“No, honey, that’s another thing husbands do.” And he disappeared.
She sat down in the living room, unable to believe she would be living in such a beautiful home. The slate-blue carpet was thick, two couches faced each other with a large square coffee table in between. Lamps and decorative items filled the room. Her mother’s apartment in New York City was dingy and small, nothing like this.
“Did you decide which room you want?” Joe asked as he came in with her bags.
“The second room is fine.” She hurried over to open the door. “The bed in here is so pretty.” It was queen-size, with a beautiful comforter and pillows on it. She couldn’t wait to get in it.
“Thanks. Jenny picked out the coverlet. She said it reminded her of a flower garden.”
“Yes, it does,” she said a little stiffly. “Joe, will she understand about me? I do not want to cause you trouble.”
He turned around to stare at her. “Jenny? Why wouldn’t she?”
She shrugged her shoulders and sighed.
“I should’ve taken the leftovers Mom offered. You’re exhausted and you ate hardly anything.” He turned and left her in the room by herself.
She started to follow him, but she decided she’d apologized enough. Instead she decided to unpack. Her clothes barely made a dent in the deep bureau and roomy closet. She gathered clean underwear and her nightgown and deposited them in the connecting bath.
She came back out and went into the living room again. “Is it okay if I take a bath?” She was so looking forward to it. Because the tub in her apartment was narrow and rusty, she had only taken showers since she’d come to Texas.
“Sure. I ordered pizza, by the way. It’ll fill you up so you can get a good night’s sleep. For breakfast tomorrow, I have cereal. But afterward we’ll go grocery shopping and get what you like.”
“I can eat cereal.”
Joe eyed her speculatively. “Ginger, earlier tonight did you think my brothers were teasing me because I didn’t have money?”
She hesitated. “Maybe.”
“Honey, they were teasing me because I don’t usually spend a lot of money. I have that reputation, but it’s only because there’s just me. I have money, I promise. Certainly enough to buy groceries.”
“I can give you my rent money.”
“Now, don’t start that again. I told you how marriages work. I pay the bills, okay?”
She nodded, remembering the wifely duties he’d pointed out. She’d have to be sure she did everything as he wanted. To be able to live in such luxury for even a few months would be worth hard work.
“Go get your bath and then come out. The pizza will be here by then.”
He’d ordered pizza because he thought she might be hungry? That seemed the height of decadence. She loved pizza, but she only allowed herself to order it once a month, on her day off. Usually, she worked seven days a week. Harvey didn’t mind, and she’d been saving her money. When she worked, she got two meals at the club, and she usually skipped the other one.
She went into the bathroom and began running the water, delighted when no rust came out as it did in her apartment. Then she heard Joe’s voice. She hurriedly turned off the taps, afraid she was using too much water.
“I only used a little. I’m sorry,” she said as she opened the door.
“What? Use as much as you want, honey. It’s okay. I wanted to tell you there’s a bottle of bath oil or something in there that you might like.”
“But it’s not mine.”
“I know. Jenny said she got it for overnight guests. You pour it into the water and it makes your skin softer.”
She thanked him and closed the door, turning on the water again. Just this once, she would fill the tub. While the water rose, she found the bottle of oil. After reading the directions, she poured in the right amount.
To her surprise, bubbles began forming. She stood there watching them, fascinated. She almost forgot to turn off the water before it came over the side of the tub. She removed her clothes and slid into the deliciously warm water.
Heaven! She didn’t think she would ever get out.
When the pizza came, Joe realized he hadn’t heard Ginger moving around. He knocked on the bedroom door to let her know their late dinner had arrived. No answer.
Slowly he opened the bedroom door, expecting to see her sound asleep on the bed. But the room was empty. He moved to the bathroom and listened at the door. Complete silence. “Ginger?” he called softly.
There was no response.
He was afraid he’d scare her if he opened the door. After all, he’d told her she’d have her privacy. But worry gripped him. Slowly he turned the knob and pushed back the door.
His princess was asleep in the bath, her auburn hair resting on the back of the tub, bubbles covering everything but her face. Despite how beautiful she looked, he realized the danger in the situation. She might have drowned.
He started to wake her up, but he realized she’d be embarrassed. Instead, he backed out of the room and closed the door behind him. Then he banged on the door from the bedroom and shouted her name.
There was a large splash. “W-what? What is it?”
“I just wanted to let you know the pizza’s here. I don’t want it to get cold.”
“I’ll be right—I don’t have a robe.”
“I’ll put one on your bed. Just give me a minute.”
He had a terry-cloth robe his mother had given him for Christmas that he hadn’t used. He put it on the bed, lingering a minute to imagine his robe sliding over Ginger’s skin.
The bathroom door opened slightly, and he said, “It’s here. I’ll go back to the kitchen. You want something to drink? I have some caffeine-free cola so you can get to sleep tonight. Is that okay?”
“Yes, please.”
Reluctantly he left the bedroom and waited for his wife to join him in the kitchen. It would be their first meal at home together.
Four
Joe rolled over in his big bed and slowly opened his eyes. He normally rose early each morning, but he’d stayed up last night, lingering over the pizza with Ginger. Too late, actually. Ginger should have been in bed several hours earlier. But she’d seemed to enjoy the late-night snack and his company.
They’d compared childhoods, hers in difficult circumstances in Estonia, with little to eat and almost no money. She was an only child of a single woman, shunned by many of the people in their town. Her mother had decided to marry an American. She was only thirty-four now, having had Ginger at fifteen.
Joe hadn’t really thought about his family and his younger days when he and his brothers had played and laughed together. His heart-breaking romance with his fiancée seemed silly now. He had a loving, supportive family, a good education, a profession he enjoyed. He had nothing to complain about. He was glad he’d decided to help Ginger. She deserved to stay in America.
He grinned and swung back the cover. They had a lot to do today. He wanted to get her things out of that one-room apartment she had called home. They had to go to the jewelry store to pick out some diamonds to go with her wedding band. He wanted to introduce Ginger to his friends. He needed to go to the closest INS office and give them a copy of their marriage certificate.
He also wanted to buy Ginger a dress for the opening of the Men’s Grill. As the architect’s wife, she’d be in the spotlight.
His life was suddenly much more exciting than it had been on Friday.
Fifteen minutes later, he came out of his room, following the scent of bacon and coffee. He expected to see Ginger, of course, but he was hungry, too. He was glad she felt at home enough to cook this morning. Not that he expected her to cook every meal, but it was a good way to start.
Ginger wasn’t in the kitchen. There was a note on the counter that made him frown.
Joe,
I have to be at work and it takes me a while to walk from here. Your breakfast is keeping warm in the oven. I made you a sandwich for lunch. It’s in the refrigerator. There’s also a casserole in the refrigerator for your dinner. I work until six-thirty and my class starts at seven. I will be home by ten-thirty. Leave the dishes for me. I’ll finish the laundry tonight. I dusted the furniture but did not vacuum because I didn’t want to wake you.
Thank you.
Ginger
He looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was only nine-fifteen and she’d already done all that work? That was more than most people did in a full day. Not to mention she intended to be on her feet until six-thirty and go to school after that.
He grabbed his car keys. Then he went back and opened the oven to find a plate of scrambled eyes, bacon and toast there. He made a quick sandwich with it and hurried out to his car.
He’d hoped he’d find Ginger on the street and could pick her up, but he didn’t see her anywhere. He parked in the lot of the Lone Star Country Club and hurried into the building.
Harvey Small was entering his office when he caught sight of Joe.
“Joe, I was going to call you. I have some questions about the opening. Come right in.”
“No. I need to find Ginger.”
“She’s working. Now, about the flowers we’re—”
“Where is she?”
“She’s in the Yellow Rose Café, setting up for lunch. Now, about the—”
Joe ignored the man and hurried to the café. There were several waitresses setting the tables, but he didn’t see Ginger. Then she came from the kitchen, carrying a tray of salt, pepper and ketchup for the tables.
“Ginger!” he exclaimed.
She stopped and carefully set the tray on the nearest table. “Yes, Mr. Turner?”
He couldn’t believe she was calling him Mr. Turner. “What did you say?”
“I asked what you wanted.”
“It was the ‘Mr. Turner’ bit that bothered me,” he growled.
“Joe, I was talking to you,” Harvey called from the door, moving toward them.
“I know, but I need to talk to my wife.” It was Ginger’s reaction that had him turning to stare at Harvey, who appeared stunned.
Then he managed a small laugh. “Come on, Joe, if you want a cup of coffee before we talk, just say so.” He turned to Ginger. “Get Mr. Turner some coffee and bring it to my office. And maybe a Danish, Joe?”
“No. I’ve had breakfast. My wife fixed it for me.”
“What are you talking about? I know you’re not married, Joe. Your mother complains about it all the time. Now, what I needed—”
“Meet Ginger Turner, my wife.” While Joe said those magical words, he slid his arm around Ginger’s waist.
Harvey stared at them as if he’d seen a ghost. “Ginger…Ginger is your wife?”
“Yes, we got married on Saturday. I’ll need to talk to you about her hours.”
“No, Joe, you mustn’t!” Ginger protested.
“Yes, sweetheart, I must. You can’t keep the schedule you proposed for today. It’s too much.”
“But I fixed all your food. I’m sorry the casserole is not very good, but you didn’t have much food in your refrigerator.”
“Ginger, I’m not complaining about the food. I’m complaining about how much you’re trying to do.”
It frustrated Joe that she didn’t seem to comprehend his concern.
