Page 42 of Robin and Marian
“You brought it with you?” Richard exclaimed. He tottered forward and took both Robin and Marian’s hands in his and lifted them high in the air to declare them the winners just as Guy came racing over the meadow from Sherwood on his horse. He pulled the reins roughly back when he saw what Robin had done.
To rub it in more, Robin reached into the cart and hauled Marian out. He couldn’t exactly carry her with his broken wrist, not well anyway, but he tried. She clung to his neck, screaming out that he’d drop her as the microphones were shoved in their faces. “Tell us, Robin, is this your comeback?”
And then the questions from the reporters showered down on them:
“Are you taking over the family business now?”
“Are you dating… what’s her name?”
“Any chance Richard will declare you the heir?”
Not a chance.Looking over at his grandfather, Robin noticed the man smiling smugly with his hands in his pockets. Scarlett sauntered next to Richard, her face bright with excitement.
“What do you plan to do with Sherwood Forest?” another reporter asked breathlessly.
Good question. “Marian.” Turning to her, Robin set her down and leaned over her ear to whisper, “What do you want to do with it?”
“You keep it,” she said without hesitation.
And that’s why he was crazy about her. He scanned the length of Sherwood Forest. It spanned two counties now, surrounded by the lake on one side, the road on the other. His grandfather used to hold his work retreats in that meadow in the middle of it—it was a pretty good set up. And it was zoned for similar events.
The microphones found their way back into his face, and this time he was prepped with an answer. “Nottingham is going to hold the Mayfair in Sherwood Forest.” His eyes went to Little John, who stood outside the fringe of the press. The man’s mouth had dropped in shock, and Robin knew what he looked like, the great embezzler cheating the town again. “But, this isn’t my passion project. It’s John Lite’s.” He pointed him out for the press. “Over there.”
The microphones found John, and he stepped back, suspicion running through his dusky features. “You going to run it, Robin?”
Robin snickered. “No, the sheriff would go after me if I went anywhere near a business.” Marian stiffened beside him, and he tried to keep down the self-immolation. “Mayfair’s your thing anyway. The place is zoned for big events like these.”
“With what money?” John asked. “You growing money on those trees in Sherwood?”
“I’ll cover the permit, Little John,” Richard volunteered suddenly, “and the legal expenses. I like this idea.” Scarlett clapped her hands next to him as the cameras swarmed Richard next. “Consider this my donation to the town.”
So yes, money growing from trees was a fair accusation. Robin would’ve fought the gesture to save face, but he wanted to help Little John more. “Sherwood Forest is yours, buddy. Just watch out for the taxes.”
That caused more of a commotion than Robin expected. The questions from the reporters pelted him like a machine gun. Guy brightened. Richard frowned. And Little John was shocked into silence until he said, “We still… don’t have the money.” It came out reluctantly, as if he was afraid to lose the offer.
“I wonder where your money went,” Guy said loudly for the cameras and with a cruel glance at Robin. Then he plugged himself. “John, I’ll take Sherwood Forest off your hands. I’ll give you a fair price. That should give you more than enough to put on your Mayfair on Main Street!”
Where Guy would hold it up with red tape.
“No, no, no!” Scarlett drew forward at that. “I’ve got a better idea. Let’s hold a fundraiser for John instead. We can raise the money!”
Guy glared at her, and Robin quickly stepped in. “Yes, and I’ll be the first to donate! See that ridiculously fantastic Porsche parked over there? I’ll put that up as the prize.” Noticing Guy’s angry face, he decided to make it angrier. “Come on, Guy—you can match that—what happened to the great philanthropist of New Hampshire? Isn’t that what theNew England Chroniclecalls you?”
“That’s fantastic!” A young, pretty reporter near Guy clapped her hands at the game. “Match it.” she begged. “Match it!”
Guy shifted uncomfortably, and Robin felt smug. He had his cousin now. Guy licked his lips and shrugged. “As much as I support John’s plans, he can always sell Sherwood to me and use the proceeds for his Mayfair. No, I’ll only match your prize, Robin, if we make this a contest, instead.”
Robin stilled. He wasn’t used to getting outsmarted by his cousin, and he knew this was definitely a trick. “Come now, Robin,” Guy taunted him. “You’re not afraid of a little competition, are you? The winner gets to choosetheircharity of choice.”
“What’s that? Yourself?” Tuck came out of nowhere and shoved a stolen microphone at Guy like he was a reporter. Robin cringed, hoping none of the viewers would know his former inmate.
Guy glowered at Tuck. “If I win, I’ll give the proceeds to my Global Kids for Veterans’ Foundation.” The charity sounded way too contrived to be real. Robin’s eyes narrowed.
“I’ll add to the prize money too!” Richard shouted. He wasn’t to be outdone. “I’ll triple whatever you boys give.”
It was a small fortune, and even John looked taken in by the excitement. By now Scarlett had found John’s side, and she nudged his arm encouragingly before shouting across the sea of reporters, “Do it, Robin! You’ll win! I know it.” John nodded, too. A bit begrudgingly.
Inwardly sighing, Robin decided to go for it. “I’m in.”
