The Right Bride

Chapter Six


MARTI MADE HER way past all the boats and down the branching docks. The rain pelted her head and shoulders, soaking through her overcoat and drenching her hair. Water slid down her neck from the hair plastered to her face. Not the day to forget her umbrella on the dining table and remember it halfway to shore when the sky opened up. Too late now.

She caught a glimpse of something down the long pier and turned to investigate the strange sight. Suspicious, she wondered what a man dressed in a suit was doing out in this storm.

Without a second thought, she walked down the pier and casually leaned her back against the railing while she stood next to the obviously distressed man. The wind sent sheets of rain down upon her head and against her back. She braced herself against the wind and looked up over her shoulder at the man standing on the second bar of the railing, leaning over into the wind.

“Nice day, don’t you think? Personally, I love a good storm. The rain washes away the grime. Makes the day seem fresh. I’m Marti, by the way,” she shouted over the storm to the old man.

In his seventies, pale and frail, his suit was expensive, like he worked in an executive office. A definite distinguished look about him, he reminded her of her grandfather with his air of superiority, strength, and wisdom. She sensed he also had a kind heart beneath the disillusioned look on his face and in his eyes.

“You shouldn’t be out in the rain like this, young lady.”

The reprimand surprised her, as did his no-nonsense tone.

“I don’t suppose it’s a good idea, but I do love a good storm. I just got back from a long trip and I have a meeting to get to, but I thought I’d join you. You look like a fellow storm enthusiast.”

“I’m just . . . Oh hell, I’m being stupid.” With a deep frown, he continued to watch the wild, white-capped waves raging by. Despite the cold, a flush of color brightened his cheeks. “I don’t know what I was thinking coming out here. I didn’t really think anything through, to tell you the truth. Do you have any idea what it’s like to have a family who only wants to get what you have? They have no respect for a man’s life’s work. They just want to take the things and the money and use it to make their lives better. They don’t realize without being happy in the first place and on their own, the money and the things will only cause them more trouble.”

He shook his head and stared out across the bay. “And who says I have to leave it to them. They think just because I’m sick they can come in and take over. I’m old. I’m not dead yet.”

She smiled and held back a laugh at his disgruntled tirade. He climbed down from the railing and stood facing the water. She turned and put her arms up on the railing, matching him, hoping he continued to open up about his problems instead of solving them in the worst way.

“I have an idea of what you’re talking about. My uncle would like nothing better than to turn my grandparents’ estate into his personal money pool he can squander away in the hopes of becoming a happy person. Since he can’t get his hands on it, he’s made it his mission to make my life hell.”

“Do you think I did something wrong in raising my son and daughter in a way they can’t see past the money to find a life for themselves? They’re obsessed with having things. The easier it is for them to have it, the more they want.”

“I think it’s the double-edged sword of being a part of a wealthy family,” she agreed. “There are those who are selfish and can only want for more, and then there are the few who see wealth and privilege as a responsibility and a kind of challenge to keep what’s been passed down. Those few want to put their mark on the family history and the world. For them, it isn’t about the money.”

“You’re an interesting woman. I didn’t think another living soul understood my circumstances. So, which are you?”

“Definitely one of the few. My grandmother said I was unique. In a world where I was surrounded by wealth and privilege, I was more concerned about people than possession. They raised me as they did my uncle and father. My father was like me, one of the few, and my uncle was one of the many, who believe being born privileged gives them the right to the wealth. Even if they’ve never worked for it or done anything more than be born, they think they’re entitled.

“Sorry.” She frowned and stared across the swelling waves and into nothing. “You caught me on a day when I have to face my uncle across a conference-room table and listen to the reading of my grandmother’s will. I’ll have to spend the rest of the afternoon listening to my uncle argue every point.”

“She left everything to you, I take it.”

“No. But it won’t matter to my uncle. He believes just because he was born of her flesh, he should have it all. I’m just the granddaughter, after all. Even more heinous, I’m just a woman.” Sarcasm dripped from every word, and she rolled her eyes. “In his mind, I’ve already gotten much more than I deserve from my parents’ estate and from my grandfather.”

“Have you gotten more than you deserve?” he asked, genuine interest in his tone.

She cocked her head and thought about it. “Hard to say. I have more than I’ll ever spend.” She shrugged and let her thoughts roll off her tongue. “I look at it in a different way. I got what I have because I don’t have my parents. They were killed when I was three. I’d give it all back to have them. I got more because my grandfather died. I’d give it back to have that grumpy old man fight with me over dinner about the latest business coup or political race. Whatever my grandmother left me will never take the place of the hours I spent painting with her, or the intangible gifts she’s given to me that can’t be quantified.”

He heard the words, but more importantly he heard the love. She loved her parents and her grandparents and he had no doubt what she was saying was true. She’d give it all back to have them with her again. His children probably couldn’t, wouldn’t say the same.

“You know, I came out here because the doctors all say I don’t have much time left. The family has been up in arms and making life miserable. I thought I’d just go for a sail on my friend’s boat and sleep with the fishes. It would serve them right to wonder what happened to me and have to wait for my body to wash up somewhere, if it ever did. The lawyers would tie up my estate for a long time if I did.”

He looked out over the water again. “The storm kept me from one fate and brought me another. The captain I hired said he wouldn’t take me out. Too dangerous. Can you imagine what I thought about that? It’s too dangerous to sail an old man out to sea so he can kill himself.

“I figured the waves here at the pier were rough enough they’d either carry me out to sea, or I’d just drown right here in the harbor. You came along and made me think maybe I should rethink my troubles. You’re an interesting woman, Marti. You’re a woman I’d like to get to know better. Would you consider having dinner with an old man like me? I’ll even argue with you about politics and business deals if it pleases you.”

“Nothing would please me more, mister . . .”

“Knight, George Knight.”

She smiled and leaned up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “We have a lot to talk about, Mr. Knight, for you are my grandfather’s most worthy adversary. I’m Martina Fairchild, granddaughter to Sofia and Martin Fairchild, founder and once CEO of Fairchild Industries. How fares Knight Enterprises?”

Fate had a way of working in mysterious ways. He hadn’t been able to sail on Cameron’s boat, and none other than his old enemy’s granddaughter had saved him. Granted he and Marty Fairchild were long-time business rivals and had spent a great deal of time and energy pretending to dislike one another. In actuality, they had been reluctant friends because they’d admired each other’s determination and business prowess.

“Marti, you must call me George. Your grandfather told me stories about you from the time you were born. I saw you grow up through his eyes, and whenever I’d see you at a function. He was so proud of you. I think he talked about you more than he talked about your father or uncle combined.”

“He was an amazing man. I think we argued strategy against Knight Enterprises over many a meal.”

“You were named for him?”

She smiled. A funny story, one only appreciated fully by someone who knew her grandfather well. To say he was proud to have sired two boys was an understatement. Ending up with a granddaughter instead of a grandson was unthinkable. Even more unthinkable, him raising that girl child.

The man born to a family of eight boys had no idea how to raise a girl. The thought never occurred to him that he’d ever have a daughter or granddaughter. And yet she, Marti, had become both to him.

“I was somewhat jokingly named after him. When he arrived at the hospital to see my mother after I was born, he came into the room and asked to see his grandson. It never occurred to him he’d be cursed with a granddaughter.”

“He would think that, wouldn’t he? He was a man among men. Everything about him was male, right down to his chauvinism.”

George thought he had some old-fashioned values, but he thought children were a blessing, no matter what their gender.

Disappointing, when the blessing of children turned sour and they grew to be their own people. His children had proven it. Well, except for one. But he didn’t even know George was his father.

“Yes, he was very much like that. My mother was very much a woman and she had learned not to let my grandfather get away with his cantankerous ways. I’m told my mother was very much like my grandmother, a woman who could stand on her own and go toe-to-toe with any man, including my grandfather.”

She smiled warmly. It was nice to talk about her grandparents and parents with someone who had known them. “Anyway, my grandfather saw my mother holding a pink-blanketed bundle. He looked at my father and said, ‘Well, that’s a disappointment. What are we supposed to do with a girl?’

“My mother was tired and not about to stand for my grandfather’s disappointment in the daughter she’d just brought into the world. She got out of bed with me in her arms and walked to my grandfather. She unceremoniously dumped me into his arms, wrapped in my pink blanket, and told him, ‘This is your namesake, Martina Fairchild, and you are to take care of her until I get back.’

“My father and grandmother erupted into laughter. My mother marched into the bathroom to take a shower. My grandfather stood there, frowning, holding his namesake, a girl.

“He took it in stride, I’m told. He sat in a chair with me in his arms and began reading the financial page to me. My grandmother told me I promptly burped and went to sleep after my grandfather told me Fairchild Industries’ stock was up two points. Apparently, I wasn’t impressed.

“I’m just thankful my mother thought better than to name me Martin, as my grandfather expected of his first grandchild,” she joked and rolled her eyes expressively.

George laughed so hard he held his sides and coughed. She patted his back and laughed with him.

“I haven’t laughed like this in a long time. I can just imagine him holding you and wondering what to do with a little girl. You are good for me, Marti. Dinner tonight at seven?”

“Perfect. I have my meeting downtown, but I should make it by seven.”

“Let’s meet at Decadence in the Merrick International building. Do you know where it is?”

“I’ll find it.” She swept her hands from her head down her body. “I’ll even dry off and be presentable when I arrive. Do you think the lawyers will mind my appearance?” She combed her fingers through her long, wet hair, feeling like a wet rag.

“For as much money as they charge, they should offer to buy you a new dress just to keep your business.”

He walked her to the parking lot, her arm entwined with his. She worried about his shivers and hoped he went straight home and got warm.

She smiled at the Bentley, complete with driver, waiting nearby.

“You had your driver bring you here so you could throw yourself into the sea?”

“I hate traffic.” He gave her a lopsided grin and shrugged. Humor danced in his now bright eyes, letting her know the despair of moments ago had passed.

“I didn’t really have a plan beyond my initial thought it was time to end it all and let the others fight it out. I have a better idea of what to do now, thanks to you. I’ll take some time and make the appropriate decisions. I think your grandfather would say I was a man who fought for every inch I gained. Over the last several years, my family has worn me down to the point where I just didn’t care what happened to my estate. I think I’d rather go out the man your grandfather and you remember.”

“Will you be all right? I hate to leave you if you’re still considering doing something supremely stupid.”

“Supremely stupid.” His lopsided grin turned to a contemplative frown. “I guess you’re right. I’m fine now, thanks to you. Promise you’ll come to dinner.”

“It’s a promise. If I’m a few minutes late, I hope you’ll wait for me. My uncle can sometimes be long-winded.”

“Dinner is more than seven hours away.”

“I’ll use it as an excuse to get out of there,” she said, exasperated. “How long can he talk without having dinner? Right?”

George smiled, feeling lighter and younger than he had in years. He thought about some of the things he knew about her from Marty’s stories. Something stuck out.

“Your grandfather once told me you were extremely private. He said you prefer to keep things to yourself.”

Marti smiled. Her grandfather’s way of saying his granddaughter didn’t like to advertise she was heir to the Fairchild empire. Too many people held preconceived ideas when they heard someone belonged to a wealthy family. Her grandmother was a famous artist. When they found out she was her granddaughter, they automatically made assumptions about whether she painted or had artistic ability. She’d rather people looked at her for who she was, and not what they thought she was based on her family ties.

“I’d prefer it if you just thought of me as Marti. I’m sure you’d agree, when you add on a family name like Fairchild or Knight, people automatically have a picture of who they think you are. I like to be myself.”

“Your grandmother was right about you, you’re unique. Most people, my children and family included, would use the name to their advantage. Like you, I prefer to earn respect and friendship on my own merits.”

She gave him a firm nod. “I’ll see you tonight at seven. Decadence at the Merrick International building,” she repeated to help her remember.

“Can I drop you somewhere?”

“I’ll be fine, but thank you.”

She waited while George drove away before heading for the street and hailing a cab. Soaking wet and cold, she didn’t have time to go to the Four Seasons and change. Already fifteen minutes late for her meeting, she didn’t care. George Knight was still alive.