Marriage by Contract

Beth considered her family’s reactions one by one. Her mother’s eyes would widen, and her father would get a little stuffy, and her sister and brother-in-law would share a long, meaningful look, but none of them would actually say anything outright. They had far too much social breeding for any real show of emotion.

“Actually,” she said, “I think I’ll wait until after the fact to tell my family.”

Tony shook his head. “My grandmother would never forgive me if I didn’t let all of them in on the news. I’ll call them first and give them a little time to get used to the idea of not only a wedding but another grandchild, too. They’re going to want to meet you, of course. And they’ll insist upon feeding you. They always close the grocery store at five-thirty on Saturdays. I’ll pick you up at six.”

Beth felt as if she were caught up in a whirlwind. Placing a hand to her temple to try to still the dizziness, she said, “It seems as if we should shake on it or something.”

One second later his mouth was on hers all over again. She didn’t gasp, but she very nearly swooned.

Raising his head, he said, “There, that was better than any handshake. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Beth.”

The next thing she knew, he strode through the beads in the doorway on his way to the front door. Pulling her gaze from his retreating form wasn’t easy. Tony Petrocelli had a smooth gait and a strong masculine physique that was impossible to ignore. She half expected him to glance over his shoulder as if he knew it. The fact that he didn’t made her heart feel strangely tender.

Just who was Tony Petrocelli? He was no whipping boy, and he certainly wasn’t a shrinking violet. People at the hospital said he was a complex man, one who wasn’t easy to know intimately. Beth was beginning to realize that there was a lot more to him than rumors and tall tales.

She stood in the doorway, staring through the colorful beads for a long time after he left, feeling as if she were viewing the world through rose-colored glasses. Oh, what a difference a day could make. In the span of twelve hours she’d experienced nearly every emotion there was. Sadness, despair, embarrassment, desire and relief. Her head was spinning as a result.

Jenna would have said, “All’s well that ends well.”

Bethany supposed it was true enough. After all, according to Mrs. Donahue, she would be able to begin adoption proceedings as soon as she was married. She already loved Christopher as her own. Now she would be able to raise him as her own, as well. She smiled at the thought, her arms aching to hold the child that would soon be hers.

Soon. That was when Tony said he wanted to get married.

Good heavens, she was getting married, when she’d promised herself she’d never get married again. Touching the tips of her fingers to her lips, she only hoped she knew what she was doing.

* * *

Beth slid from the seat and rounded the front of Tony’s Lexus. Her feet stopped at the foot of the porch steps, her eyes trained on the welcome sign fastened above the front door.

“Ready?” Tony asked, reaching for her hand.

No. As a matter of fact, she wasn’t ready. Oh, the house looked inviting enough. It was located in what her mother referred to as the working-class district. These houses were old but well kept. They were far less ornate than the huge Victorian mansions that had been built by businessmen and prospectors who’d struck it rich in the silver mines a hundred years ago, and far less pretentious than the new structures built by present-day businessmen and the social elite. The houses in this neighborhood had painted porches and bare spots in the lawns where children played and dogs snoozed in the shade. The exterior didn’t concern Beth in the least. It was the people waiting for her inside that had her nerves standing on edge.

During the ride from her apartment, Tony had hit most of the high spots concerning his family. She now knew that his Grandpa Mario had died ten years ago, and that the Petrocellis were the kind of people who still referred to wall-to-wall carpeting as a rug, and who ate dinner at noon, and supper as soon as they closed the Italian grocery store that had been in the family for more than forty years. Other than a love for gossip, they sounded like kind, good-hearted men and women. So why were her feet frozen to the sidewalk?

“Come on,” Tony said softly. “You’re going to be fine.”

She took a deep breath and went up to the first step. Mentally preparing herself for what was to come, she stared straight ahead. “All right. Let’s go in. I only hope I don’t drop my spaghetti in my lap.”

Tony was still laughing when he opened the front door and ushered her inside. Every person in the room turned to look at them, more than a dozen pairs of brown eyes narrowing with a critical squint. Accepting the squeeze Tony gave her hand for moral support, Beth did her best to hold her head high and refrain from fidgeting. But honestly, a germ under a microscope had never received a more intense scrutiny.

“Everyone,” Tony began, “I’d like you to meet Bethany Kent. My future bride.”

Only one person in the entire room moved. A small woman with white hair leaned heavily on her cane as she ambled closer.

“This is my Grandma Rosa,” Tony said quietly.

Rosa Petrocelli was eighty-five years old if she was a day, and obviously accepted her position as head of the family as her just due. Her gaze started at Beth’s feet and trailed upward, ending at her face. She finished her perusal, pausing for a moment for effect. When she was good and ready, she said, “You’re very thin.”

Beth looked past the thinning white hair and the wrinkles lining a face that had lived through a lot of years, and into the other woman’s sharply assessing eyes. “Maybe. But not too thin.”

Rosa Petrocelli’s eyebrows went up. Tapping her cane on the floor to still the gasps behind her, she said, “You also have a strong will, yes? This is good. You’re goin’ta need it to hold your own with our Antonio.”

A chuckle started in one corner of the room, circled around and back again, picking up volume along the way. Rosa muttered a prayer in Italian, and in no time at all, chaos and confusion erupted. Beth was introduced to Tony’s parents and his sisters, and so many other family members she had a difficult time keeping everyone straight. She thought she tallied up eleven children, but she might have counted one adorable little boy who looked to be about four years old twice.

She managed to make it through dinner, or supper, as the Petrocellis called it, without spilling her spaghetti in her lap, although it was surprising that she could eat at all considering all the questions she answered. She glanced up several times and found Tony watching her, and at least one of his sisters nodding in approval.

The dishes were whisked away to the kitchen, Beth’s offer to help with the cleanup quickly denied. The Petrocelli women were very formidable, giving their men strict orders to watch the children and keep Beth duly entertained. It didn’t take long for Tony’s father and brothers-in-law to draw him into a discussion about baseball, oblivious to their children’s noisy play and the woman they’d been instructed to amuse. Seizing a moment of solitude, Beth strolled through an arched doorway and into another room.

The room was small and appeared to be used as some sort of den. An overstuffed sofa took up one wall, and a cozy armchair was placed at a comfortable angle nearby with doily-topped end tables on either side. There was an old television in one corner, and everywhere, on every available surface, sat framed photographs in all shapes and sizes. Beth studied them, intrigued.

There was a black-and-white snapshot of a man in uniform, another of a solemn-faced wedding couple, and color photos of everything from first communions to weddings to smiling babies. Tony’s sisters looked so much alike it was difficult to tell who was who. But Tony was easy to spot. She’d noticed the way his mother, grandmother and four sisters all doted on him, making it obvious that he was the family favorite—because he was the only boy, or because he kept himself slightly aloof, she couldn’t be sure.

“Are you hiding or wandering?”

Beth spun around, flushing guiltily. Tony was leaning in the doorway, one hand in his pocket, a lazy light in his eyes. Wondering what had happened to her air of calm and self-confidence, she said, “A little of both, I suppose.”

He pushed himself from the doorway and ambled farther into the room. “They can be overwhelming at times. Believe me, I know.”

Beth found herself smiling. Although she had wandered into this room to catch her breath and grab a moment of solitude, she certainly couldn’t fault the Petrocellis for the way they’d welcomed her tonight. Shrugging, she said, “Your family is wonderful. I’m just not used to all the touching and embracing and, well, all the noise.”

Tony stopped a few feet away, his gaze trailing over photographs he’d seen a thousand times. “You learn to tune it out. Your family isn’t noisy?”

“Hardly. I only have one sister. We’re very different.”

Something about her tone of voice drew his gaze. “Different, how?” he asked.

She shrugged one shoulder. “Janet is beautiful, poised and gracious. She’s two years older than I am, and she has always made all the right choices. She married a handsome, intelligent man and has three beautiful, intelligent children.”

Tony thought they all sounded extremely politically correct, and wondered why it irked him. Before he was able to come up with an answer, Beth began clicking off names on her fingers. “Let me see if I’ve gotten your family straight. Your father’s name is Vince, your mother is Elena. Carmelina is married to Nick Santini. Gina’s husband’s name is Teddy Bulgarelli. There’s Andreanna and Rocky Grazanti, and Maria and…what’s Maria’s husband’s name again?”

“Frank Giovanni.” His answer had been automatic. Why wouldn’t it be? He’d known Frankie all his life.

With a rustle of silk that kicked his heartbeat into overdrive, she bent down to study another photograph. “Is there anyone in your family who hasn’t married a fellow Italian, Tony?”

He caught a whiff of decadently expensive French perfume, and suddenly, he didn’t want to talk about his family. He waited for his silence to draw her attention, letting his gaze travel over her soft, elegant blouse and long, straight skirt.

“There’s me,” he whispered.

Beth straightened slowly. Had she moved closer, or had he? In the tight space so near him, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say or do. Tony seemed to have no such problem. His breath felt warm on her cheek. A moment later, his lips touched hers. This was the first time he’d kissed her today. She suspected he’d been on his best behavior, but there was no disguising the passion running through him right now.

There was a ruckus in the next room, but it was Elena Petrocelli’s voice coming from the doorway that drew Tony and Beth apart. Calling for attention with a loud clap of her hands, she said, “It’s nice to see that my son takes after his father, but there will be plenty of time for that later. Now, come. Quickly. We have wedding plans to make.”

Beth and Tony ended up in the next room, surrounded by Petrocellis who were all talking at once.

“Bethany,” Elena said, “will your mother be helping you with the wedding plans?”

Beth barely had time to shake her head before Tony’s mother rushed on. “Uh! No problem. I’ve planned four weddings already, and would love to help with yours and my Anthony’s. I know the two of you will be busy with adoption proceedings—I can hardly wait to meet my new grandson. You just leave the wedding plans to me.”

“We’ll have to see about a hall.”

“And food, Mama. We’ll need plenty of food.”

“Tony, were you thinking of an autumn wedding? Or winter?”

Beth cast a look at all the people who were talking and gesturing a mile a minute, then slowly turned her gaze to Tony’s. He leaned closer and said, “I told you they were overwhelming.”

She smiled. She hardly knew this man, yet she had an unsinkable feeling that everything was going to be all right. Tony obviously had strong family ties, and would undoubtedly be a good father to Christopher. Although arranged marriages weren’t common in this day and age, they’d certainly been effective in other eras. She’d married Barry for love. And look how that had turned out. Perhaps a marriage based on mutual respect and the love of an innocent child would fare better.

Tony raised his voice above all the noise. “Sorry to disappoint all of you, but Beth and I aren’t going to have time for a big wedding. We’re going to be married as soon as possible.”

“As soon as possible!” Rosa exclaimed.

“That won’t give Aunt Pasqualina much time to make her famous wedding cake,” Elena sputtered.

“The nice thing about Aunt Pasqualina’s cakes,” one brother-in-law, Beth thought it was Frank, said, “is that you don’t actually eat them.”

“That’s right,” Nick Santini agreed. “We’re still using the cake from our wedding to prop open the back door.”

After giving her husband a sharp jab in the ribs, Carmelina asked, “What do you mean by as soon as possible?”

Tony glanced at Beth. “A week at the latest.”

A gasp went through the room. “A week!” Elena said. “But, Anthony, we’ve been waiting all our lives to hear you say ‘I do’ in a proper wedding ceremony.”

Beth didn’t like the guilt that flooded her. Trying to soften the family’s disappointment, she said, “In order to adopt Christopher, we must be married as soon as possible.”

Mention of the baby changed everything. The Petrocellis took turns nodding and shaking their heads. “A week!” Rosa said. “That don’a leave us much time.”

“That’s all right, Grandma,” Tony said. “We’re planning to be married by a judge.”

A little girl whined over a bumped knee, and a baby started to cry. The adults took the news even worse. Mouths dropped open, then snapped shut, and chaos erupted all over again. Grandma Rosa muttered in Italian, and Vince and Elena sputtered between themselves. Turning suddenly, Elena said, “Anthony, this is a wedding, not a traffic violation. If you must be married within a week, so be it, but at least do it in front of God and Father Carlos.”

“But, Mama,” Gina insisted, “Father Carlos insists upon a six-month waiting period.”

Elena, whose black hair was streaked with gray, turned to Tony and Beth. Raising her chin at a haughty angle, she said, “You two see to the baby, the license and the blood tests, and leave Father Carlos to me.”

Tony and Beth exchanged a look, then slowly nodded. It seemed there wasn’t much more to say. Tony made noises about leaving soon after. Pulling Beth along behind him, he shouldered a path to the door.

“Antonio, wait!”

The crowd parted to make room for Tony’s grandmother to pass. Rosa peered up at her grandson for a long time, then moved on to the woman at his side. Age might have shrunk her frame, but it hadn’t dulled her intelligence or softened her temperament. A flicker of apprehension shot through Bethany. She knows, she thought to herself. Tony’s grandmother knows that this marriage is all because of Christopher. Only because of Christopher.

“Is there something you wanted to say, Grandma?” Tony asked.

When Rosa nodded, Beth tried to prepare for what was to come.

“I just want to welcome you into our family, Bethany. I’ve seen the way you watched all the little ones here tonight, and I believe you’re goin’ta be a fine mother to the child you and my Antonio plan to adopt, and a fine mother to the babies you’ll birth yourself, too. Even if you are a little thin by Italian standards.”

A lump rose to Beth’s throat, making speech impossible. Carmelina flashed her a wink that spoke volumes and a smile that said even more. “Don’t mind Grandma Rosa. She’s always trying to fatten us up. Honestly, my Nicholas was a thin man when I married him.”

“What do you mean, ‘was’?” Nicholas protested.

Ignoring her brother-in-law, Maria said, “That’s right. When Grandma Rosa tells us we’re just right, we always know it’s time to go on a diet.”

“Yes,” Andreanna quipped. “She and Mama are firm believers in feeding a cold and a fever. Besides, you’ll probably put on a little baby fat when you’re pregnant.”

“All these women think about is making babies,” one of the brothers-in-law admonished.

He dodged the jab from his wife and laughed along with the other men. Tony and Beth left seconds later amid a chorus of “goodbyes.”

Beth only wished it was easier to smile.

Chapter Three

“Is everything all right, Beth?”

She glanced at Tony, relieved to see that he was too busy watching for his family’s arrival to take his eyes from the end of the corridor. It was the third time he’d asked that question in as many days, and the third time she didn’t know what to say. The first time, he’d voiced his concern before pulling out of his parents’ driveway three nights ago. She hadn’t been able to explain the niggling doubt hovering in the back of her mind then, and she couldn’t explain it now. What she needed was a few hours alone to get her thoughts in order, but with the wedding a mere four days away, she hadn’t had two minutes to think, much less a few hours.

The hospital was abuzz with the news of the great Dr. Petrocelli’s imminent fall from bachelorhood. He and Beth had taken their blood tests, applied for the marriage license and spoken with Elena every day. Beth wasn’t sure how the other woman had managed it, but the wedding was set for this coming Saturday at two o’clock.

Although everything else they’d done had been necessary, as far as Beth was concerned, the most important order of business was the appointment they’d kept with the social worker yesterday. Florence Donahue, the caseworker who’d been assigned to Christopher, was fifty-five years old, and since she’d turned forty she had accumulated an extra pound with every passing year. She wore the pinched expression of a woman who was squeezed between the desire to help and the bureaucracy of an imperfect system. If Tony had noticed, he hadn’t let on, charming her right down to the roots of her overpermed brown hair. Beth still smiled every time she thought about the phone call she’d received a few hours ago. According to Mrs. Donahue, the proper forms had been filled out, and barring any new developments, the system was going to place Christopher in Beth and Tony’s care upon his release from the hospital.

The Petrocellis, too eager to wait until then to meet the newest addition to their family, were due to arrive at the hospital, where they could at least see him through the nursery window. Tony was pacing back and forth, as nervous as any expectant father she’d ever seen. He would be wonderful to Christopher, she knew he would, and Christopher would have the added stability and love of a huge extended family.

Telling herself that the misgivings that had been scraping the edges of her mind these past three days were just nerves, she leaned over the baby’s incubator. “Hello, sweet pea. Remember when I told you how much I want to be your mommy? Lo and behold, it looks as if I’m going to get my wish. Do you remember that man over there? He helped bring you into this world, and he’s going to be your daddy.”

Tony stopped pacing and slowly turned around. He took his time looking at Beth, his eyes traveling over every inch of her. She was leaning over the plastic crib, seemingly oblivious to everything except the baby. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, one side fastened high on her head with a black clasp. She was wearing a thin, airy-looking skirt and matching top. Although the color was an understated slate blue, the material clung to her hips and legs in the most enticing way. She probably had no idea how sensuous her voice sounded. No wonder the baby was gazing up at her, mesmerized. She was having a similar effect on him. Tony didn’t know what was happening to him. He only knew he liked it.

“Beth?” he said, catching a movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Hmm?”

“They’re here.”

She came to with a start, her eyes going wide as she looked beyond him at the men and women and children hurrying toward them en masse. With a tilt of her head and the lift of one shoulder, she said, “Yes, they certainly are. Would you like to carry Christopher to the window so they can see him?”

“No,” he said, ignoring the taps on the pane behind him. “I think you should do the honors. You’re a natural with him.”

The smile she gave him nearly buckled his knees, rendering him immobile. That night, more than two-and-a-half months ago, like now, he’d felt it—warmed by her smile, flushed with heat, excited by something as simple as a look.

Beth wrapped Christopher in a white blanket and scooped him into her arms, Tony’s words playing through her mind. You’re a natural with him. She swallowed the lump in her throat, certain she’d never received a higher compliment.

She stood next to Tony in front of the window and held up the baby for all to see. Christopher, with his dark tuft of hair and serious gray eyes, stared unblinking at all the people who were making complete fools of themselves on the other side of the window.

Children were held up for a better look, chubby little fingers pointing, questions asked and answered with ease. Tony’s mother and sisters all wiped tears from their eyes, his father and brothers-in-law grinning and nodding for all they were worth. When everyone had looked their fill, Beth returned Christopher to his bed, and together, she and Tony joined the rest of the family in the hall.

“I can’t believe how much hair he has.”

“He’s an angel.”

“He’s beautiful.”

“He’s a boy. He can’t be beautiful.”

“He can so. And he is.”

“And smart. He knows us already.”

“Oh, but he’s so small. I swear our Dominic was twice that size at birth!”

“Yes, but Dominic was born half grown.”

Tony almost smiled. Although he’d delivered hundreds of babies, they were usually red-faced and squalling and mad as blazes to find themselves beneath the glare of lights in the big, cold world. Staring at Christopher, who was silently studying a stuffed bear Beth had placed in his bed in the first days of his life, a sense of pride came out of nowhere, and he had to admit that the baby was an exceptionally handsome child.

“I can see the pride in the set of your shoulders, son.”

Tony’s eyes took their time meeting his father’s. When their gazes locked, they both nodded. Tony was the first to smile.

Vincent Petrocelli was a couple of inches shorter than Tony and had thinning gray hair and a face and hands that bore the lines and calluses of a man who worked hard for a living. He didn’t speak loud or often, but when he talked, people sat up and listened. They’d been the only two men adrift in a turbulent sea of talkative, demonstrative women. Despite it or because of it, their relationship was based on companionable silences. Tony could count on one hand the times he and his father had had heart-to-heart talks. He’d always known what his family had given up to help him through medical school, just as he’d always known what was expected of him in return.

He wasn’t sure why he chose that instant to turn his head slightly, but once his gaze settled on Beth, he couldn’t look away. At five foot eight, she was at least three inches taller than the women in his family. From here, her hair looked more red-gold than auburn, her skin pale, her lips tinted a soft pink. She was talking to two of his sisters—listening was more like it. She nodded politely at something Carmelina said, then casually glanced his way. For a moment, she seemed to stare, unseeing, past them all. Slowly, her eyes focused on him, and she smiled. Desire roused inside Tony all over again.

From a dozen feet away, Beth saw the invitation in the depths of Tony’s eyes. She couldn’t remember any man ever looking at her in exactly that way, and she could hardly believe what such a look could do to a woman.