His eyes narrowed. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Unable to maintain her wavering smile, Meredith leaned forward, crossed her arms on the table, and drew a long, steadying breath. "I—I have something to tell you, Matt. Try not to get upset."
With a disinterested shrug, he lifted his wineglass toward his mouth. "We have no feelings for each other, Meredith. Therefore, nothing you could tell me could upset me—"
"We're still married," she announced.
His brows jerked together. "Nothing except that!"
"Our divorce wasn't legal," she plunged on, inwardly shrinking from his ominous gaze. "The—the lawyer who handled the divorce wasn't a real lawyer, he was a fraud, and he's being investigated right now. No judge ever signed our divorce decree—no judge even saw it"
With alarming deliberation he put his glass down and leaned forward, his low voice hissing with anger. "Either you're lying or else you don't have enough sense to dress yourself! Eleven years ago, you invited me to sleep with you without giving a thought to protecting yourself from pregnancy. When you got pregnant you came running to me and dumped the problem in my lap. Now you're telling me you didn't have the brains to hire a real lawyer to get you a divorce, and we're still married. How in the hell can you run an entire division of a department store and still be that stupid?"
Each contemptuous word he spoke cracked against her pride like a whip, but his reaction was no worse than what she'd expected, and she accepted the tongue-lashing as her due. Fury and shock temporarily robbed him of further speech, and she said in a low, soothing voice, "Matt, I can understand how you feel...."
Matt wanted to believe she was lying about the whole mess, that this was some sort of crazy attempt to get money from him, but his every instinct told him she was telling him the truth.
"If our positions were reversed," she continued, trying to speak in a calm, rational voice, "I would feel just as you do—"
"When did you find this out?" he interrupted tightly.
"The night before I called you to arrange this meeting."
"Assuming you're telling me the truth—that we're still married—just exactly what do you want from me?"
"A divorce. A nice, quiet, uncomplicated, immediate divorce."
"No alimony?" he jeered, watching the angry flush steal up her cheeks. "No property settlement, nothing like that?"
"No!"
"Good, because you sure as hell aren't going to get any!"
Angry at his deliberate and rude reminder that his wealth was now far greater than hers, Meredith looked at him with well-bred disdain. "Money was all you ever thought about, all that mattered to you. I never wanted to marry you, and I don't want your money! I'd rather starve than have anyone know we were ever married!"
The maitre d' chose that untimely moment to appear at their table to inquire if their meal had been satisfactory or if they wanted anything else.
"Yes," Matt said bluntly. "I'll have a double shot of scotch on the rocks, and my wife," he emphasized, taking petty, malicious satisfaction out of doing exactly what she'd just said she never wanted to do, "will have another martini."
Meredith, who never, ever had engaged in a public scene, glowered at her old friend and said, "I'll give you a thousand dollars to poison his drink!"
Bowing slightly, John smiled and said with grave courtesy, "Certainly, Mrs. Farrell," then he turned to a furious Matt, and added drolly, "Arsenic or do you prefer something more exotic, Mr. Farrell?"
"Don't you dare ever to call me by that name again!" Meredith warned John. "It is not my name."
The humor and affection vanished from John's face, and he bowed again. "My sincerest apologies for having taken undue liberties, Miss Bancroft. Your drink will be delivered with my compliments."
Meredith felt like a complete witch for taking her anger out on him. Morosely, she glanced at John's stiff, retreating back and then at Matt. She waited a moment longer for their tempers to cool, then she drew a long, calming breath. "Matt, it's counterproductive for us to sling insults at one another. Can't we please try to treat each other at least with courtesy? If we could, it would make it much easier for us to deal with all this."
She was right, he knew, and after a moment's hesitation he said shortly, "I suppose we can try. How do you think things ought to be handled?"
"Quietly!" she said, smiling at him in relief. "And quickly. The need for secrecy and haste is far greater than you probably realize."
Matt nodded, his thoughts finally becoming more organized. "Your fiance," he assumed. "According to the papers, you want to marry him in February."
"Well, yes, there is that," she agreed. "Parker already knows what's happened. He's the one who discovered that the man my father hired isn't a lawyer, and that our divorce doesn't exist. But there's something else— something vitally important to me that I could lose if this comes out."
"What's that?"
"I need a discreet—preferably secret—divorce so that there won't be any gossip or publicity about us. You see, my father is going to take a leave of absence because of his health, and I desperately want the chance to fill in for him as interim president. I need that chance to prove to the board of directors that when he retires permanently, I'm capable of handling the presidency of the corporation. The board is hesitant to appoint me interim president—as I told you, they're very conservative and they already have doubts about me because I'm relatively young for the position, and because I'm a woman. I already have those two strikes against me, and the press hasn't helped by portraying me as a frivolous social butterfly, which is what they like to do. If the press gets hold of our situation, they'll turn it into a carnival. I've announced my engagement to a very upright, important banker and you're supposed to be marrying a half-dozen starlets, but here we are—still married to each other. Potential bigamy doesn't get people appointed to the presidency of Bancroft's. I promise you, if this comes out, it will put an end to my chances."
"I don't doubt you believe that," Matt said, "but I don't think it would be as damaging to your chances as you think it would."
"Don't you?" she said bitterly. "Think how you reacted when I told you the lawyer was a fraud. You instantly leapt to the conclusion that I am an inept imbecile incapable of managing my own life, let alone anything else, like a department store chain. That is exactly how the board will react, because they're not one bit fonder of me than you are."
Unable to maintain her wavering smile, Meredith leaned forward, crossed her arms on the table, and drew a long, steadying breath. "I—I have something to tell you, Matt. Try not to get upset."
With a disinterested shrug, he lifted his wineglass toward his mouth. "We have no feelings for each other, Meredith. Therefore, nothing you could tell me could upset me—"
"We're still married," she announced.
His brows jerked together. "Nothing except that!"
"Our divorce wasn't legal," she plunged on, inwardly shrinking from his ominous gaze. "The—the lawyer who handled the divorce wasn't a real lawyer, he was a fraud, and he's being investigated right now. No judge ever signed our divorce decree—no judge even saw it"
With alarming deliberation he put his glass down and leaned forward, his low voice hissing with anger. "Either you're lying or else you don't have enough sense to dress yourself! Eleven years ago, you invited me to sleep with you without giving a thought to protecting yourself from pregnancy. When you got pregnant you came running to me and dumped the problem in my lap. Now you're telling me you didn't have the brains to hire a real lawyer to get you a divorce, and we're still married. How in the hell can you run an entire division of a department store and still be that stupid?"
Each contemptuous word he spoke cracked against her pride like a whip, but his reaction was no worse than what she'd expected, and she accepted the tongue-lashing as her due. Fury and shock temporarily robbed him of further speech, and she said in a low, soothing voice, "Matt, I can understand how you feel...."
Matt wanted to believe she was lying about the whole mess, that this was some sort of crazy attempt to get money from him, but his every instinct told him she was telling him the truth.
"If our positions were reversed," she continued, trying to speak in a calm, rational voice, "I would feel just as you do—"
"When did you find this out?" he interrupted tightly.
"The night before I called you to arrange this meeting."
"Assuming you're telling me the truth—that we're still married—just exactly what do you want from me?"
"A divorce. A nice, quiet, uncomplicated, immediate divorce."
"No alimony?" he jeered, watching the angry flush steal up her cheeks. "No property settlement, nothing like that?"
"No!"
"Good, because you sure as hell aren't going to get any!"
Angry at his deliberate and rude reminder that his wealth was now far greater than hers, Meredith looked at him with well-bred disdain. "Money was all you ever thought about, all that mattered to you. I never wanted to marry you, and I don't want your money! I'd rather starve than have anyone know we were ever married!"
The maitre d' chose that untimely moment to appear at their table to inquire if their meal had been satisfactory or if they wanted anything else.
"Yes," Matt said bluntly. "I'll have a double shot of scotch on the rocks, and my wife," he emphasized, taking petty, malicious satisfaction out of doing exactly what she'd just said she never wanted to do, "will have another martini."
Meredith, who never, ever had engaged in a public scene, glowered at her old friend and said, "I'll give you a thousand dollars to poison his drink!"
Bowing slightly, John smiled and said with grave courtesy, "Certainly, Mrs. Farrell," then he turned to a furious Matt, and added drolly, "Arsenic or do you prefer something more exotic, Mr. Farrell?"
"Don't you dare ever to call me by that name again!" Meredith warned John. "It is not my name."
The humor and affection vanished from John's face, and he bowed again. "My sincerest apologies for having taken undue liberties, Miss Bancroft. Your drink will be delivered with my compliments."
Meredith felt like a complete witch for taking her anger out on him. Morosely, she glanced at John's stiff, retreating back and then at Matt. She waited a moment longer for their tempers to cool, then she drew a long, calming breath. "Matt, it's counterproductive for us to sling insults at one another. Can't we please try to treat each other at least with courtesy? If we could, it would make it much easier for us to deal with all this."
She was right, he knew, and after a moment's hesitation he said shortly, "I suppose we can try. How do you think things ought to be handled?"
"Quietly!" she said, smiling at him in relief. "And quickly. The need for secrecy and haste is far greater than you probably realize."
Matt nodded, his thoughts finally becoming more organized. "Your fiance," he assumed. "According to the papers, you want to marry him in February."
"Well, yes, there is that," she agreed. "Parker already knows what's happened. He's the one who discovered that the man my father hired isn't a lawyer, and that our divorce doesn't exist. But there's something else— something vitally important to me that I could lose if this comes out."
"What's that?"
"I need a discreet—preferably secret—divorce so that there won't be any gossip or publicity about us. You see, my father is going to take a leave of absence because of his health, and I desperately want the chance to fill in for him as interim president. I need that chance to prove to the board of directors that when he retires permanently, I'm capable of handling the presidency of the corporation. The board is hesitant to appoint me interim president—as I told you, they're very conservative and they already have doubts about me because I'm relatively young for the position, and because I'm a woman. I already have those two strikes against me, and the press hasn't helped by portraying me as a frivolous social butterfly, which is what they like to do. If the press gets hold of our situation, they'll turn it into a carnival. I've announced my engagement to a very upright, important banker and you're supposed to be marrying a half-dozen starlets, but here we are—still married to each other. Potential bigamy doesn't get people appointed to the presidency of Bancroft's. I promise you, if this comes out, it will put an end to my chances."
"I don't doubt you believe that," Matt said, "but I don't think it would be as damaging to your chances as you think it would."
"Don't you?" she said bitterly. "Think how you reacted when I told you the lawyer was a fraud. You instantly leapt to the conclusion that I am an inept imbecile incapable of managing my own life, let alone anything else, like a department store chain. That is exactly how the board will react, because they're not one bit fonder of me than you are."
