Page 29 of Just (Fake) Married
“Actually,” Mr. Prescott said, pulling another letter from his briefcase. “This might help.”
Ethan reached for it, but Mr. Prescott handed it to me. All of us in the room blinked.
“I don’t want it,” I said, lifting my hands, like the letter was robbing me at gun point.
“Harmony, you have to read it,” Ethan said.
“I don’t have to do anything,” I shot back.
“Just fucking open it, or I will,” Bliss said, grabbing the letter and handing it to me.
Reluctantly, I tore it open.
“Harmony,we don’t know each other well, but the one thing I do know about you is that you care about this town as much as I do. If not more. The two of us, more than anyone else in this room, understand that this town’s prosperity was created on the myth of our feud. Real or not, people believe that we have murdered and robbed each other across centuries. The only thing that will keep this legend alive – and therefore keep the Feud Day Festival alive, which helps keep the town alive - is winning back that blue ribbon. You are our best chance. Maybe our only chance of success.Sincerely, Leroy McGraw.”
I looked up at the room only to find everyone watching me.
“Is that all it says?” Bliss asked
I nodded and folded up the letter.
“Well, I confess I never saw me being on the same team with Leroy McGraw, but…he’s right. That state award used to be really good for business. Not just on the festival day, either. We’ve lost that. I never wanted to say the town was…dying. Butgiven that Amity, Bliss and I run three of the local businesses, I can tell you our numbers are down.”
Amity shrugged. “She’s right. The Swinging D brings in a lot of cowboys, and that’s great during calving season. But we need the tourists too.”
“And I hate to say it, but he’s also right about what a wedding might do to lift morale,” Monica said. “The McGraws and Calloways finally burying the hatchet after all these years with a love story? It’s going to give the town…”
“Hope,” I finished. “We need that blue ribbon, which means we need everyone contributing to the festival. What if we hosted a big reception at the end of the day? Everyone’s invited to the wedding?”
“The will stipulates you must be married before the festival,” Mr. Prescott said. “But, there are no guidelines regarding when the wedding happens. Only that the marriage appears absolutely genuine in the eyes of the town.”
“A forced fake marriage. I never would have pegged Dad as a romantic,” Carter said, shaking his head.
“He was,” Mom said from the couch, sitting so still it was like she was made of glass. “More than you know.”
“So,” Ethan said, turning to his brothers. “All we have to do is marry one of them.”
“You don’t have to say it like that,” I snapped. “I mean, if anyone is getting the short end of the stick here, it’s us.”
“What are you talking about?” Ethan asked. “We all have the same stick.”
“But one of us,” I circled my fingers around me and my sisters, “has to marry one of you.”
“Mr. Prescott, you said the marriage had to appear genuine. Does that mean it has to be consummated?” Ethan asked, but he looked at me when he said it, somehow making the wordconsummatedsound pornographic.
Listen, mister, you’re the one who’s been staring at my tits this whole time. Not the other way around.
At least, I hope that’s what my expression said.
“I don’t…” Prescott looked down into his briefcase, leafing through the envelopes. “I don’t have an envelope for that.”
“So, no,” I said. “Which means all we need is a believably epic, romantic, fake marriage with no sex. Easy peasy.”
“And if we do this?” Carter said, stepping forward. “The land stays in our family.”
“Indeed.” Mr. Prescott swallowed audibly. “There are a few more caveats to this will, but the first conditions have to be met before we can move on.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” Carter asked.
