$10,000,000 Marriage Proposal (3 page)

Suze had managed
to be relatively productive for most of the three hours she'd allocated to this farce—huddled in a corner answering e-mails—but just before her timer went off, a male voice came on the PA system.

“Thank you all for your patience,” he said warmly. Was it
him?
Was he here, hidden in some security lookout, secretly checking out the candidates?

“While we anticipated a response like this—ten million dollars is a lot of money—” He was interrupted by whoops and cheers from the assembled crowd. “This will require a serious effort. We are trying not to waste your time, so we have already selected a number of you to move to the next stage. Please do not be hurt or offended if you are not called. You are all worthwhile people, but we are keeping one man's taste and personality in mind. We hope you understand. Thank you for your time and courage. Please refer to the numbers on your application receipts.” He then began to read numbers, as if announcing the winners of a lottery. There was a rustle of paper as the women pulled out the stubs from their applications, where their numbers appeared in the upper-left corner. Suze's number was 2111, and it came up almost right away. She had a feeling it must have been thanks to that woman who'd advised her to smile. Suze had an ally.

Suze slid upstream through the departing crowd and found herself in a group of about forty women clustered near the application desks.

“This way, please.” A woman in a gray suit led them through a door to a conference room. Here they would wait even longer, but at least there were sofas and water bottles. Three separate doors appeared to lead to three different meeting rooms, and it seemed that one of the candidates was called into a room about every twenty minutes. This was it! Suze was about to meet Mr. Moneybags. She checked her makeup in her phone camera. It was fine. She wasn't someone who looked terrible one day and gorgeous the next. Her hair was long and straight, smooth and dark. Her skin had always been flawless. She knew she was lucky not to have to worry. Her friends seemed to pick apart their own faces and bodies, wanting fuller lips, stronger chins, smaller noses, longer legs, and so on. Suze knew she wasn't perfect, but she had never felt compelled to mess with what she had. She just stuck to the same routine. It had worked for her so far.

Although she still didn't feel invested in this unlikely contest, Suze felt an unexpected flutter of excitement when her name was finally called. At last she was going to meet the mysterious millionaire. Would he be physically unappealing? A beast looking for his beauty? Odds were yes. She walked calmly into the room, an interview smile deliberately frozen on her face. But hold on. Instead of the man she expected to find, perhaps smiling sheepishly in a custom-made suit, she found herself in front of two women and a man. A jury.

The man spoke: “Are you”—he looked down at a paper—“Suze Lee?”

“I am,” she said.

The women and man smiled at her. “Well, welcome to your interview, Suze. This is going to be straightforward. We'd like to know all about you, but what you choose to tell us is completely up to you. Just please be truthful. Is that fair?”

“That's fair.” Suze smiled back.
He likes a smile.
She made sure to keep it there when she spoke. “Technically one-sided, but fair.” The three chuckled.

“Okay,” one of the women said, “if you don't mind, let's start with your parents. What kind of marriage did Mom and Dad have?”

Caroline instinctively sat
straight in the chair, legs crossed at the ankles, knees held tightly together. Interview mode.

“I can see that you're being sincere,” one of the women behind the desk was saying, “and I know this is weird and hard to do in such a strange setting, but it would help if you didn't worry about saying the right thing.” She was wiry, with sharp features and funky blue glasses. She looked smart.

“Yeah,” the other woman said. She was pretty, in a less funky, more natural way. Blond hair, no makeup, and a cotton fisherman sweater—straight out of an Ivory soap commercial. “Try to imagine you've known us for years. Because remember what we're doing here. We're not looking for someone who's good at playing the role of wife. We're actually looking for a genuine connection—or at least the potential for one.”

The sole male interviewer was young and magazine handsome, with charmingly tousled dark hair and a mischievous glint in his eyes. If he didn't turn out to be Prince Charming, he was a good choice for an interviewer, Caroline thought. The women, too. They were all so friendly and attractive that there was a subtle psychological suggestion that the would-be husband would not prove to be a toad.

“I get it,” Caroline said. “And I have to admit that's a relief. I'm done with acting—on stage or in real life. But I will keep trying to sit up straight, if that's okay by you. It's false advertising, I confess, but I might as well stick with it as long as I can.”

The Ivory soap girl made an obvious point of fixing her own posture, and the one with blue glasses followed suit.

“Much better, ladies,” Caroline said. “Strong cores all around.”

The group laughed.

“So, let's hear about what brought you here today,” the male interviewer said.

“You want the truth? Five hundred dollars,” Caroline said.

“Uh, not to focus on the monetary aspect, but you do know it's ten million, right?” the woman in blue glasses said.

“Sure, I know. But my mother bribed me to come here. I was…incentivized. Still, I'm open to finding love. And an apartment. Possibly a higher-paying job, except I love what I do. I definitely need to get out of my mother's house! Gosh, I sound like a basket case, don't I? But I'm actually not.…”

“We know that life has ups and downs,” said Ivory Girl. “We're not looking for perfection.”

“Seriously? Because for ten million dollars I would want perfection,” Caroline said. Then she paused. It wasn't really true. She didn't want Mr. Perfect and never had. She wanted someone quirky and unpredictable. She didn't have everything figured out, and she wanted to carve out a life with someone. In fact, now that she thought about it, that was why she couldn't really take this contest seriously. Anyone who had all that money to spend, and all these women to choose from…his life had to be more established than hers. She didn't want to be the last piece in someone else's life puzzle. She started to stand up. “You guys seem cool. I don't want to waste your time. I can just—”

“Hold on a minute,” the guy said. “I'm curious about what just went through your mind. What made you want to bolt?”

“It's just—I would never step into the ‘wife' vacancy in someone's otherwise complete life. I'm sure this guy—
whoever he is…
” And here she gave the male interviewer a pointed stare and paused. With an amused look on his face, he shook his head with a nearly imperceptible
no.
Caroline went on. “This guy has it all down. His life is on a track, and he wants a companion to take the ride with him. Totally makes sense. I wish him happiness. But I'm not that girl.”

“Well, that's refreshing,” the woman in the blue glasses said.

“And certainly not disqualifying,” the Ivory girl reassured her.

“Please stay,” the guy said. “We want to hear more.”

And so Caroline told them about her ill-paying but beloved job as a social worker for incarcerated youth. She made them laugh with her best stories about her crazy stage mom (“World's Worst Mother-in-Law. Don't say I didn't warn him”). And, since she was on a roll, she rattled off a list of pros and cons about her candidacy: great cook, though only for guests; loves animals except reptiles; closet Belieber; tries anything once; hates theater; bites nails in public; has trouble staying up past ten o'clock and always falls asleep in movies; has forgotten everything from art and history classes; cannot deal with spiders.

Caroline knew she was not a “catch,” if there was such a thing, but the interviewers made her feel as comfortable as was conceivable, considering she was talking about herself the whole time. It was only when they started to wrap up that Caroline realized a full hour and a half had passed. She'd been to enough auditions to know that the amount of time they gave you was a sure indicator of how well you'd done. Apparently, she was rocking this interview!

The guy interviewer looked at his watch, then directly at her. “It's been fun talking to you, Caroline. You obviously don't hold back.”

“Sorry!” Caroline said, covering her face with her hands. “I'm such a blabbermouth.”

“We just need to ask you if there's anything else we should know,” Blue Glasses said.

There was something. Caroline hadn't spoken of it to anyone—not in detail. But there was something about these people…maybe it was a ploy, but they made her feel like the more she exposed, the more likeable she was.

“Well, this has been the best therapy session of my life, thank you very much,” Caroline said. “I might as well tell you everything. But this is kind of the worst.” She took a deep breath. “Ten months ago my boyfriend broke it off—it wasn't just that he ended things, it was the way it happened. I've never been so humiliated. He isn't a bad person. I'm sure it must have been at least partly my fault. But the whole thing was especially bad because…” She felt a heat rising up her face, and she was getting a little choked up. She stopped.

“It's okay, don't feel like you have to say more. That sounds really hard,” said Ivory with real sympathy in her voice. Blue Glasses said nothing, but she nodded in agreement, and she even seemed to have tears in her eyes. Wow, these people were genuinely kind. Why? Where had they come from? What was this all about?

“I lost my
job this morning. Literally. I'm on the rebound, so watch out.” All three of the interviewers laughed.

“So tell us your story,” the woman in the blue glasses said. “A bit about who you are and what brought you here—aside from the job breakup, that is.”

“Who is Janey Ellis?” Janey joked. “Okay, here goes. I grew up in a little town outside Iowa City. You've never heard of it, and that's why I'm not there anymore. Except at Christmas, which is ridiculously adorable. You guys have no idea. Anyway, I'm a TV producer, which I'm really good at and love even though I got fired this morning. So…consider me unappreciated but good. And make no mistake—I'll have a couple job offers by the end of the week.

“But let me ask you something. It seems obvious to me that your boss, Mystery Man, is a reality show waiting to happen, and I'm wondering if you've already made a deal for it. In any case, you should hire me! I can pitch on that, if you like. But I also want to say that at the exact same time, I am not-so-secretly hoping to be plucked from obscurity and anointed Mrs. Mystery Man. I'm not proud! I would go on a blind date for zero dollars, so ten million is totally in my ballpark.

“Whew, I had too much coffee today. After the Bloody Mary. Which I had only because I got fired. I swear to you it's the first time I've ever had a morning cocktail, and I don't plan to make it a habit. Unless I'm engaged by the end of today, in which case, why stop?”

Her interviewers had been surprisingly alert when she came in, considering they must have been listening to life story after life story, but Janey was giving them her A game, and now they were laughing. If there was one thing Janey was good at, it was charming a roomful of executives. She could pitch herself as well as any TV show.

“Well, Janey, you obviously have a lot to offer. If you don't mind my asking, why are you single?” the cute guy interviewer asked.

“Long answer or short answer? The long answer has all kinds of details about dating the wrong men for the right reasons and how I am too quick to trust people. It has something to do with Iowa and my parents, who are best friends and never fight. And the shorter answer is that I left my last boyfriend. He cheated on me. Twice. As far as I know.” Janey thought about Sebastian, that bastard. He'd been a hard one to let go. She'd had to delete him from her phone, purge his e-mails, and remove every reminder of him from her house lest she relapse. But now, for her audience, she laughed. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Honestly, if finding true love were my only goal, I would go straight back to Iowa. It's pretty nice there, and you can take people at face value.”

Suze didn't slip
back into the office until after two, hoping against hope that her colleagues wouldn't notice, or remember what she'd been up to this morning. As if. She hadn't even pulled out her laptop when Meredith was already in one of her visitor chairs, tapping her fingers impatiently.

“Download please. Tell me everything.”

“It's nothing, really. I just—”

Before Suze could continue, Kevin, Emily, and Jeff filed into the office, as if appearing for a scheduled meeting.

“Go back to the beginning,” Emily said.

“You guys! I have nothing to report! Will you get off my case?” Suze protested.

Meredith looked at her watch. “Five hours of nothing? Please. We know you. You've never let five hours go by with nothing to show for it,” Meredith said. “What was he like? How old? Handsome? Are you sure he's for real?”

“Fine. I met him. He is about my age, around thirty. Very handsome—like a young George Clooney.…” If they were going to be nosy, she'd give them exactly what they wanted. Suze dropped her voice down to a whisper, so that her friends leaned closer to her. “He told me that he had three questions, and that if I answered them to his satisfaction, he would ask me to marry him and hand me a check for ten million dollars.”

“So much pressure!” Meredith exclaimed.

Suze was getting into her tale. “I'll admit, I was nervous. But I told myself that all I could do was answer the questions honestly and to the best of my ability, and if that wasn't sufficient, so be it. Calmly and politely he asked the first question. It was a simple one. Just ‘Where are you from?' That was easy, of course.”

“You're from Boston, right?” Kevin asked.

“Right. And then he asked what my favorite hobbies and interests are outside work. I told him about running the marathon, how I love to play the piano but don't own one, and how when I was a kid, I was kind of a golf prodigy. And I told him I've always wanted to learn to fly-fish.”

“Fly-fishing, that's brilliant!” said Emily.

“Genius,” said Kevin.

“It happens to be true,” said Suze.

“What was the third question?” Jeff asked. “It's always the third question that matters.”

“You're right, Jeff,” Suze said. “The third question was…” She paused for dramatic effect. “The third question was, ‘Why are your office mates so up in your business?'” There was a moment of silence as they all realized she'd made up the whole thing.

“You didn't even meet him, did you?” said Jeff.

“Nope,” Suze said. “Now will you let me get back to work?”

“So that's it? You're out?” Meredith said. “I can't believe it. Did you get to see who he picked?”

Suze's pride prickled at the assumption that she hadn't been chosen. “Actually, I think I'm still in the running. The finals, or whatever. I was invited to go to his home this Sunday.”

“Holy moly!” said Meredith. “That's huge. You could win this! Ten million dollars! Oh, my God.” Then, looking at Suze urgently, she said, “You have to go. You're going, aren't you?”