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“MAC!” THE TALL, GRAY-haired woman who’d opened the door flung out her arms to encourage a hug.
Mac did so, kissing her cheek at the same time. Jackie Coulthard was a qualified celebrant. She was also a friend of his mother’s, and he’d known her for over twenty years.
“Jackie, this is Fred,” he told her, stepping back to let Fred come forward.
Jackie shook her hand and said, “Welcome, Fred,” but he could see her assessing Fred shrewdly. His mother had told him that Jackie was uneasy about performing the ceremony, and that she wanted to talk to them both before they went ahead. He wasn’t sure if it was Jackie who was uncertain or his mother, but he was prepared to give them the benefit of the doubt and answer a few questions.
He was aware, though, that inside he felt like a sixteen-year-old introducing his girlfriend to his old aunt. He wanted Jackie to like Fred. That, in itself, interested him.
“Come in, come in.” She beckoned them into the house, which was large and impressive. The living room had huge north-facing windows that overlooked Russell and, beyond, the curve of Blue Penguin Bay. He could just see the terracotta buildings of the estate high on the hill opposite.
She led them to a cream sofa and sat opposite them in an armchair. In front of them, three cups and a pot of tea rested on a tray, along with a plate of homemade cookies. Outside, it was raining, and the drops peppered the windows and bounced off the deck.
He sat back, conscious of Fred beside him sitting on the edge, her spine stiff. He still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to go ahead with his crazy plan.
Jackie poured them all tea as they chatted about the weather and what Fred thought of the bay. When they all had a cup in their hands and were munching on cookies, Jackie finally broached the subject.
“So... you two are thinking of getting married.”
He swallowed the mouthful and cleared his throat. “Yes. And we’d like you to do it.”
“Okay. Well, Megan’s given me some insight into why you’re making this decision, but I’d like to hear your side of it.”
So Mac gave her a rundown, explaining about the fake will, how James had spent all the money, and how he himself had contacted Fred when he’d discovered Harry’s letter.
Jackie listened to it all, sipping her tea, her gaze flicking occasionally to Fred, who confirmed each detail with a nod of her head.
“All right,” Jackie said when he’d finished. “So, Fred, you need to show a marriage certificate to your lawyer to access your funds.”
“Yes.”
“But beyond that, there was nothing else stipulated about the relationship.”
“No.”
Jackie nodded and pressed her lips together, her gaze meeting Mac’s.
“Come on,” he said softly, “be honest. I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. Is part of your role to assess the intention behind a couple’s decision to marry?”
Jackie put down her cup. “No. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I’ve read the code of ethics and professional standards. It says that we should preserve the clients’ rights to personal choice and decision-making. We’re supposed to provide guidance about the ceremony, and take into account the couple’s beliefs and traditions. I am conscious that if this were a religious ceremony, the priest or whoever was marrying you would have a duty to assess the couple’s readiness for marriage, and whether they understood the solemnity of the vows. However, I don’t believe it’s my job to decide the depth of feeling in a relationship. There are places all over the world where arranged marriages are common, and I’ve actually officiated in two of those with couples from Vanuatu, so in that sense I don’t see why this is any different.”
She surveyed him with a frown. “Except that it’s you, Mac. I’m a little disappointed in you. That you think so little of marriage.”
He shifted on the sofa under Jackie’s cool gaze, continuing to feel sixteen. “I don’t think little of it at all. One day I hope I’ll get married properly, and I’ll write my own vows and do all the ‘in sickness and in health’ stuff, and I’ll mean every word.” He forced himself not to glance at Fred, who was looking up at him. “But that’s not what this is about. I have to do something, Jackie. What my father did—it hurts me, physically. I have to try to put it right. The land belongs to Fred and her sisters, and I’m convinced that if Harry had known what my father was going to do, he wouldn’t have tied up the girls’ money in this way. I need to do something.”
“All right,” Jackie said gently. “I understand. I guess I am a little puzzled as to why you didn’t choose a celebrant you didn’t know. You wouldn’t have to explain yourself then. Why not just pretend, wouldn’t that have been easier?”
Fred spoke up then. “We thought about it. Both of us feel awkward asking a celebrant to marry us knowing it’s for show, and especially with you being a friend of Mac’s mother—I hope you don’t see it as an insult. But I think it would be worse to be married by a stranger who would assume that we’re in a relationship and genuinely want to commit to each other for the rest of our lives. We do both value marriage as an institution. We don’t want our vows to include statements about ‘till death us do part’ that we have no intention of obeying. It doesn’t feel right.”
Her cheeks flushed. Mac had to fight not to reach out and feel the warmth of her skin. He envied the man to whom she would eventually pledge her life and vow to love and cherish forever. Inside, he felt an odd twinge at the thought that they wouldn’t be exchanging the traditional vows. He’d never given marriage a lot of thought in the past. How would it feel to be promising Fred that he’d stay by her side forever? That he’d never love another woman except her?
Conscious that the room had gone quiet, he glanced at Jackie. She sipped her tea, and he had the feeling she was hiding a smile behind her cup. “Okay,” she said. “You understand the legal obligations of what you’re getting into? That although yours might be a business relationship, it doesn’t change the legal, binding aspect of it?”
They both nodded.
“All right. We’ll keep the vows simple. I won’t ask you anything that you have to lie to answer—we’ll stick to just what you need to get it done legally, which is surprisingly little.”
“Sounds great,” Mac said, feeling a swell of relief, and Fred’s slow exhalation told him she felt the same.
He’d be able to put things right at last. “Thank you,” he mouthed to Jackie.
She said nothing, just smiled and nodded, and then began to talk about the weather again.
*
“YOU’RE ABSOLUTELY SURE about this?” Sam asked.
It was just over a week later, Saturday eighteenth of March, twelve thirty p.m., and Mac was standing on the deck outside the restaurant, waiting for his bride. Scully sat by his side with a bow in her collar, the prettiest bridesmaid he’d ever seen.
“I’m sure.” Mac smiled at the strangeness of that reply. Since he’d first made the suggestion to Fred, he’d not had a single moment of doubt. It felt like the right thing to do, and he hadn’t regretted it for a second.
“Weirdo.” Sam stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “I can’t believe you actually volunteered to get hitched.”
Mac grinned. After dating an ex whose sole goal had appeared to be to get his ring on her finger, Sam had developed an allergy to anything wedding related.
“Thanks,” Mac said. “For being my best man, such as it is.” Sam was there to be a witness.
“Yeah, well, it’s not quite the role I’d anticipated. I thought I was going to be able to do the whole kit and kaboodle, you know, make jokes about your first dates, embarrass you, embarrass the bride... Doesn’t have quite the same effect when the two of you don’t give a damn about each other.”
Mac gave his best mate a wry look. There was an undernote of warning in Sam’s words. He didn’t agree with what his friend was doing, although he would never say in so many words.
“I do give a damn about her,” Mac said. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t.”
“I guess. Not sure you can say the same about her. It makes her a bit of a cold fish, if you ask me.”
“Careful,” Mac said. “That’s my bride-to-be you’re talking about.”
“Mac...”
“Sam, relax. We’re here to sign a business contract, that’s all. It doesn’t mean anything. Yeah, it’s a shame it’s binding for two years, but it won’t change a single thing about our daily lives. Nobody will even notice.”
He’d taken every care to make sure that was the case, not wanting Fred to have any worries about what they were about to do. He’d taken Fred to meet Jace Hart, his lawyer in Kerikeri, who also happened to have been Harry’s lawyer, and who was aware of the problems with the fake will. Jace, and Fred’s lawyer in the U.K., had confirmed all that was required was a legal marriage certificate for Fred to access the funds tied up in her inheritance, and there was no clause that demanded to know when she’d met her husband, or how long they intended to stay together. Jace had also drawn up a pre-nup for Fred on Mac’s insistence, in which he signed away any claim on her money or her share of the estate. She’d then made Jace draw up one for Mac in which she’d done the same, making it clear that the two of them were to lead individual lives and have no claim on the other’s money or property.
“I’m still kinda surprised she didn’t want all the paraphernalia of a real wedding,” Sam said. “I thought women liked dressing up.”
“Fred’s not like that. We agreed that, as it was a business deal, there was no point in arranging anything special.”
Sam turned his astute gaze on his friend. “So why is it happening here and not in the registry office in Kaikohe?”
For a second, Mac found himself tongue-tied. He could see in Sam’s eyes his suspicion that Mac had feelings for the woman with whom he was about to tie the knot.
He was right, of course. But it was irrelevant. Just because he liked Fred, it didn’t mean this wasn’t about business.
“It might not be a love match,” he explained, “but it still has meaning. It feels right for it to happen at the vineyard, and Fred feels the same. I want it to be a celebration of the end of hostility between our families.”
“Very Henry Tudor,” Sam stated.
Mac laughed. “Yeah, I guess.”
“As long as you’re sure,” Sam said softly.
“I’m sure.” Mac looked out across the vineyard. “I had to do something. If they’d turned up and been three spoilt brats who’d yelled at me for stealing their fortune, I might not have felt so inclined to help. But I think you’ll understand when you meet them.”
“I hope so. I’m guessing there must be something special about them if they’re Harry’s girls.” Sam had been fond of Harry Cartwright—they both had. “I wonder what he’d think of this ‘transaction’,” Sam said, putting air quotes around the word.
“I hope he’d be touched that I’m trying to put things right,” Mac replied. Poor Harry. Betrayed by both the man he’d thought was his best friend, and his own wife. Abandoned by all those he’d thought loved him. Mac’s throat tightened. If nothing else, he wanted to help Harry’s daughter get what she deserved.
“Mac?”
He turned to see Jackie waiting at the edge of the deck. She was wearing a dark-gray suit and a white blouse with a pink carnation pinned to the lapel of her jacket.
“Jackie.” He smiled and walked forward to kiss her cheek. “Thanks for doing this.”
She stepped back and held his hands, giving him a shrewd look. “You certain you know what you’re doing?”
“Don’t start,” he scolded.
She squeezed his hands and released them. “All right. As long as you’re sure.”
“My son doesn’t do anything until he’s thought it through,” said a woman who’d just rounded the corner behind her. “At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.”
“Hey, Mum.” He bent and kissed his mother on the cheek. “You look lovely.”
Megan MacDonald wore a pretty turquoise dress, and she had a matching clip in her hair with a spray of butterflies that danced in the breeze. “Thank you.”
“You didn’t have to dress up,” he said.
“Hey, this is probably the only time I’ll be a mother-of-the-groom,” she said playfully. “I’m going to make the most of it.”
Mac smiled, for the first time feeling a twinge of uneasiness. It was odd, but even though they all knew this was about business, everyone had made an effort with their appearance, even Sam, who’d shunned his usual jeans and All Blacks top for a pair of smart black trousers and a checked shirt, although he hadn’t gone as far as donning a tie.
Mac himself had also chosen black trousers and a white shirt, and he’d shaved and was wearing his best watch and smart shoes. Now, he wondered why he’d made that decision. It must be the word ‘wedding’, he thought. Even though everyone knew what was going on, and even though nowadays fewer people were getting married and everyone kept saying the institution had little meaning, there was something about the exchanging of vows that you just had to take seriously.
He scratched his chin. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.
It was too late to think about it now, though, because the door from the garden to the restaurant had opened, and Fred and her sisters were coming through.
His lips curved up as they crossed the restaurant and came onto the deck. All three of them had attempted to look casual, but they’d obviously taken time over their appearance.
Sandi wore a sleeveless blue dress, her hair falling over her shoulder in a single braid. Ginger wore cream wide-leg trousers and a navy blouse with large cream spots, and although her blonde hair hung loose, she’d pulled back a few strands with a clip bearing a small navy flower.
Fred was wearing a floor-length Indian-style skirt that changed from light orange on her hips to a deep russet red where it brushed the deck. Numerous sequins and beads sewn into the pleated material shimmered in the sunlight. She’d topped it with a short white tunic, and she wore flat red sandals. Her hair hung to her waist, but she’d plaited two thin braids at her temples and joined them at the back with a clip, making her look almost medieval, and bringing to mind Sam’s jest about Henry VII.
The past week, they’d started harvesting the Pinot Gris and Chardonnay grapes, and the two of them had worked flat out alongside the seasonal employees, Fred beside him more often than not, listening to everything he said as he supervised the grape picking and showed her the process from vine to bottle. It was with no small sense of irony that he’d thought how well they worked together considering what they were about to do.
She hadn’t mentioned the kiss again, though, and neither had he.
“Hey,” he said as she walked up to him. He’d wondered whether she would look nervous, concerned that they were about to make a mistake, but to his surprise she gave him a big smile, her eyes dancing.
“Hello, husband-to-be,” she teased.
He laughed and held out his hand, enjoying the feel of her fingers when she slipped them into his. “Mum, I’d like you to meet my bride.” He drew Fred over to Megan.
“Hello, Mrs. MacDonald.” Fred cast him a scolding glance. Her cheeks flushed a little. She was embarrassed to face his mother. Aw, he thought. That was sweet.
“Hello, Fred, and please, call me Megan.” His mother kissed her on the cheek. “I’m very pleased to meet you, even if these are rather strange circumstances.”
“Just a bit.” Flustered, Fred turned to the two young women waiting behind her. “These are my sisters, Ginger and Sandi.”
Mac introduced them to Jackie, and also to Sam, who stood to one side, watching them all quietly. Mac was expecting a few wisecracks, some teasing from the guy who was so certain the three girls were secretly planning to destroy his best mate. He half expected him to query Fred on her prospects. But Sam stayed silent and polite, and for that, anyway, Mac was thankful.
“Okay,” Jackie said, leading them forward to where Mac had placed four chairs facing the vineyard, and a small table to one side. Neither of them had seen any point in organizing flowers or music, but he had designed a display for the table out of flowers from the garden and a few small bunches of grapes from the vineyard. He wasn’t sure why he’d done that.
“Shall we start?”
Mac met Fred’s eyes. They looked a little feverish, and her cheeks were still flushed, but she nodded and smiled, so he said, “Sure.”
His mother sat next to Sam, and Ginger and Sandi sat the other side. Jackie stood in front of them, and gestured for Mac and Fred to stand before her. Scully sat with Sam, loving having all her friends around.
“So.” She glanced around at them all, and smiled. “My name is Jacqueline Coulthard, and am the celebrant at today’s wedding. Mac has requested a brief ceremony, bearing in mind that this is a business transaction, so I won’t be going through my usual romantic spiel. However, I will start the way I usually do, in telling you that I am authorized by law to solemnize marriages according to law. I am supposed to remind you of the solemn and binding nature of the relationship you are about to enter. Marriage, according to New Zealand law, is the union of two people, to the exclusion of all others, voluntarily entered into for life. The nature of your business relationship does not change the legal aspect of this relationship. Do you both understand?”
Fred cleared her throat and nodded. “Yes.”
“Yes,” Mac said. He met her gaze. She wasn’t smiling now, but she didn’t look away.
“Okay,” Jackie continued. “You’ve decided not to have any readings, songs, poems, or anything like that, and you won’t be exchanging rings, so there are only the vows to say. Are you both ready? This is going to be quick—now is the time to speak up if you need more time.”
Fred shook her head. “I’m ready.”
Mac glanced at Sam, who raised an eyebrow, then at his mother, who smiled. He nodded at Jackie.
“Mac, you first please,” Jackie said. “Will you repeat after me? I call upon the persons here present to witness that I, Eamon James MacDonald, take you, Winifred Rose Cartwright, to be my lawful wedded wife.”
Mac took a deep breath, looked into Fred’s eyes, and repeated the words.
Then it was Fred’s turn.
“I call upon the persons here present,” she began, her voice barely audible. She cleared her throat and continued. “To witness that I, Winifred Rose Cartwright, take you, Eamon James MacDonald, to be my lawful wedded husband.”
Silence fell. Mac looked into Fred’s eyes. They were like forest pools, deep and green with brown shadows, and for a moment time fell away and he could almost feel her in his arms again, her mouth soft beneath his, her hands splaying on his chest.
Was Harry there, watching them? Did he know how Mac felt about her, deep in his heart?
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” Jackie said. And then, a touch of mischief in her voice, she added, “Mac, you may kiss the bride.”
