The Marriage Contract
| The Marriage Contract | |
| Fate with a Helping Hand [2] | |
| Lisa Mondello | |
| Domhan (1999) | |
| Rating: | *** |
| Tags: | Romance |
Cara Carvalho and Devin Michaels became best friends one distant summer, until fate and their own inner need for success forced them to separate. Now both are seeking more from their lives. A glib promise on the back of her 17th birthday card is enough to bring them together again. Can they have a second chance at happiness?
THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT
by
Lisa Mondello
KINDLE EDITION
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Lisa Mondello
The Marriage Contract
Copyright © 1999 by
Lisa Mondello
Second Edition
published 2011
First Edition published
1999 by Domhan Books
License Notes
This ebook is
licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or
given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another
person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.
If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or obtain it through the
Kindle Lend program, then you should delete it and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the author's work.
* * * * *
“A wonderful romance where a couple get a second chance at
happiness. This story is never boring, yet it is very heartwarming as well.”
HUNTRESS REVIEWS
“
A
grandmother who goes skinny-dipping in public, a mother who plans
a wedding when there isnt one, and Caras reluctant boyfriend, the hapless
Roger, bring life to this romance…THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT is a very entertaining
read.”
FOUR STARS Romantic Times Sunnye Tiedemann
* * * * *
They were
destined to fall in love.
But
sometimes fate steps in…
Cara Carvalho and Devin Michaels became
best friends one distant summer. No two people were more in psych about what
they wanted their lives to be. But fate and their own inner need for success
forced them to separate.
And
sometimes fate needs a helping hand…
Now both are approaching that magic age of
35 and are seeking more from their lives. When Cara’s mom finds a glib promise
on the back of Cara’s 17th birthday card, she decides to take matters into her
own hands and bring Devin and Cara together again. With a little help and
“creative” planning, can they have a second chance at happiness?
* * * * *
Ebooks available by Lisa
Mondello
The Marriage Contract
##
All I Want for
Christmas is You ##
The Knight and Maggie’s
Baby##
Nothing But Trouble
Cradle of Secrets – Harlequin
Love Inspired Suspense**
Her Only Protector –
Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense**
Yuletide Protector –
Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense
Fresh-Start Family –
Harlequin Love Inspired Romance
In a Doctor’s Arms –
Harlequin Love Inspired Romance
##
Fate
with a Help Hand (Massachusetts)
Series
**
Cradle
Series
* * * * *
Excerpt
of The Knight and Maggie’s Baby
* * * * *
THE MARRIAGE CONTACT
Cara Cavarlho
could think of a hundred places she wanted to be right now.
This wasn't
one of them.
She tugged on
the rope dangling above her head. A musty cloud of dust hit her in the face as
the stairs leading to the attic of her parents' Westport home dropped, gaining
her access. Gripping the splintered stairs, she began her ascent into the
“black hole”, she so affectionately dubbed the attic in her childhood, with
mixed emotion. Ever since her parents decided to sell the home she had grown
up in and move to Florida with the senior league, she found herself becoming
overwhelmed with emotion.
Of course, her
thirty-fifth birthday being right around the corner wasn't a big help. That
her mother kept reminding her of her single, childless status only added to her
emotional unrest.
She yanked on
the metal chain dangling above her head and light quickly spilled into the
sweltering crawl space. “It's a furnace up here!” she called down, immediately
feeling the cool air below bathe her warm face.
Whose idea was
it to delve into this black hole on a hot August afternoon? Certainly not
mine! she fumed silently.
“I know. We
should have done this earlier in the day, before the sun had a chance to heat
the attic,” she heard her mother, Ruthie, call up from below. “Do you want me
to get the fan?”
I want to get
out of here and not do this. “No. I can't stay up here long, anyway. I'm
already sweating like a pig.”
On her hands
and knees, she carefully crawled along the aged planks, feeling them bend under
her weight. Aerobics twice a week and running three miles a day had her
wearing the same size she had worn since college. With each creak of the aged
floor boards, she was glad she’d taken pains to keep her figure trim.
Despite the dim
light, it was difficult to see. She squinted and tried to focus. Boxes.
There were loads of them scattered Helter Skelter around her, tucked into
corners they'd been placed in years ago and long since forgotten. The life she
used to lead was lost up here. Why couldn't things ever remain the same...?
“Just start
with a few, dear. We can rummage through them first and price anything you
want to include in the tag sale,” Ruthie suggested.
“Sounds like a
good idea. I'll come back up tomorrow morning before breakfast to get more. I
can barely breathe up here now.” Cara's eyes roamed the piles of memories one
last time. After choosing the five boxes closest to the hole and carefully
lowering them to her mother, Cara descended to fresh air once again.
She helped her
mother drag the boxes down the stairs and out to the back porch of the
beachfront home. Plopping the last one on the wrought iron patio table, she
puffed her cheeks and slid the back of her hand across her sweated forehead.
The sooner we get through this the better.
Ruthie was the
first to begin the unveiling and plunged into the first box while Cara poured
both of them a tumbler of her mother’s homemade lemonade. After a few minutes
of digging, Cara found her tension ease. While she'd been dreading the idea of
unearthing old memories, she found the task easier once she delved in and
became lost in them.
The first box
was filled with old Christmas ornaments and treasures she and her brother,
Manny, had made in school when they were kids. A paper doll chain. An old
wooden whale Manny had made in woodshop. The next box had old crochet blankets
and booties from when they were babies. While Cara fingered the soft yarn of a
baby afghan, Ruthie dove into the box filled with old yearbooks and newspaper
clippings from Manny's athletic high school days.
“You suppose
Manny would want to keep any of these things?” Ruthie asked, picking up a
yearbook and fanning the pages open. A candied piece of what looked like
edible underwear fell to the floor boards by their feet. Ruthie retrieved the
“article” and held it up in the air between her fingers.
Cara laughed,
remembering the gag gift Manny had given her years ago. It was harmless, but
she knew her mother wouldn't find the truth so humorous.
“Those are
mine, Ma. Manny gave them to me before he left for the seminary.”
As she
expected, Ruthie threw her an appalled look. “How would your brother know
about such things? He's a priest, for goodness sake!”
Cara sobered
immediately, sucking in her cheeks to keep her laughter at bay. She knew her
mother had a hard time remembering Manny as a normal everyday teenager before
he'd left for the seminary. Now wasn’t the time to remind her.
But as usually,
Cara didn't leave it alone. She reached across the table for the naughty
underwear. “What size are they anyway?”
“Never you
mind.” Ruthie dropped the brittle article of “clothing” in the green rubber
garbage can by the table. “If your grandmother saw this, she'd probably take
them for herself.”
Cara gasped.
“She would not!”
“Oh, you'd be
surprised. The other day I caught her standing in front of the full length
mirror, trying on one of those tight bustiers Madonna wears all the time.”
“You're
kidding. You are kidding, aren't you?”
Ruthie sighed
heavily, a worried looked suddenly etching her face. “I think she has
Alzheimer’s.”
Cara’s hand
flew to her chest. “Why?”
“She's acting
strange.”
“So what’s
new? She always acts strange. She's a free spirit.”
Ruthie remained
somber. “As we speak, she's at church.”
“So?”
“It's Tuesday.”
“What? People
only go to confession on Sunday?”
She slapped the
yearbook on the table. “She thinks she's Madonna. And there's the fishing
thing.”
Cara held up
her hand to halt her. “Fishing?”
Ruthie sighed
and reached across the table, patting Cara's hand. “You’ve been away for a
while, honey. You'll see what I mean after a few days.” Cara turned her
attention back to one of the boxes in front of her and pulled out a pair of
white baby booties.
“Oh, were these
mine?” she crooned, examining the tiny booties.
“No, dear. I
made them for your children, just after you were born. Not that they'll ever
be used,” Ruthie quipped under her breath.
“You made
booties for your own grandchildren when I was still a baby? What about me?
What did I get to wear?” Cara shook her head in disbelief. Utterly
bewildered, she stared blankly at the silk threads sewn in minute stitches with
loving care. Her eyebrows furrowed as she read the name embroidered on the
heels. “Omar? What's this Omar you have embroidered here?”
“Your
grandmother made you plenty of booties when I was a little girl. I was merely
passing on the tradition. One that I won't hold my breath you'll continue.”
Oh, this
vacation is going to be good, Cara thought. A full three weeks helping her
parents get the house ready for sale, and listening to poor Ruthie dig about
her lack of grandchildren, was going to be a slow, agonizing death.
It was times
like this she could throttle her brother for becoming a priest and dropping all
the procreation pressure on her shoulders.
“And Omar,”
Ruthie continued, “is the name I picked out for your first born son. What can
I say? I had a thing for Dr. Zhivago.”
“You were
already naming my kids!? Omar?” She mouthed the name with disgust.
“You didn't
like Dr. Zhivago?”
Cara drew in a
deep cleansing breath of salted sea air, wondering how she could have been born
to this crazy family. This was going to be an extremely long three weeks.
Ruthie plucked
out an old birthday card from the box and read it. “Devin Michaels. Mmmm.
Now that's a name I haven't heard you speak in a long time.” Turning it over,
she read the ink staining the back and squealed in delight, practically jumping
from her seat. “Devin proposed to you!”
“What are you
talking about? He did not.”
“On your
birthday card. He proposed!” Ruthie sputtered, “How come you never told me
about this?”
“Let me see
that.”
Cara nabbed the
card from her mother and speed read the note, smiling.
I, Devin
Michaels, agree to marry you,
Cara
Cavarlho should both of us still
be single
at age thirty-five.
Signed:
Devin Michaels
“I remember
this.” The memories poured back one by one. She and Devin had just toasted
her birthday. After sneaking out on her own birthday party, they sat on the
concrete ledge of the watchtower at Gooseberry Point, watching the midnight
moon, drinking cheap wine illegally, and toasting to their future success.
She had been
lamenting about Manny leaving for the seminary and the predicament he'd left
her with regarding her mother's future grandchildren. If she dared to remain
single—which, given her lofty career goals, she'd whole-heartedly planned to be
at age thirty-five—Ruthie was sure to hound her for the rest of her life. Or
at least until menopause, whichever came first.
Devin joked
that he would be chivalrous and rescue her from being eternally damned by her
mother. What was nothing more than a little joke between two friends was now
coming back to haunt her.
Cara couldn't
help but smile, remembering the boy, the friend Devin had been. They'd been
inseparable that summer. There’d always been something special about Devin.
Something just a little bit more…