$10,000,000 Marriage Proposal (5 page)

Moments after Suze
accepted a second glass of wine, she saw Brendan glance at his watch. Abruptly, or so it seemed to Suze, he excused himself. Suze found herself mystified. Had she said something wrong? What had started to feel like a regular date, even a good one, apparently wasn't going to pan out that way. Was it over? Brendan had told her to “sit tight.” Suze looked around. The books on the shelves were organized by color and height. The desk had nothing on it besides an elegant leather desk set and some sculptural brass paperweights. All of it suddenly seemed like a stage. She still knew nothing at all about Brendan—whether he owned this house or had rented it to create an illusion.… Suze was lost in speculation when another man walked into the library to join her. He appeared to be in his midforties—not quite as handsome as Brendan, but he introduced himself with a certain quiet charm.

“I'm Miguel,” he said. “Thank you for enduring this.” He swept an arm across the room as if to acknowledge that although the process was strange, it couldn't take place in a nicer venue.

“I'm managing,” Suze said with a laugh. This had to be the guy. Older. A little less perfect. Or…not? What a crazy game this was! Suze took a sip of wine. She didn't know much about wine, but one thing she knew for sure. This was more complex and delicious than the Pinots Noirs she picked for their pretty labels at Trader Joe's. Brendan, Miguel, some yet-to-be-presented Bachelor Number Three. What did it matter? Bring on the next! Suze was starting to enjoy herself.

The meeting had
been called for 9:00 p.m., and they had been very clear about not being late, but Janey had a good excuse. She'd interviewed for a job at a well-financed new production company, landed it in the room, and been taken out for a celebratory dinner. (It helped that two of the three executives she met with had been colleagues for years.) Anyway, there was no way she was going to cut short a great moment in her actual life for a mystery man. He would just have to wait.
You know what?
Janey told herself.
If I'm disqualified for having priorities, then I'm not the right woman for the job.

When Janey got home from the meeting, she tapped on the window of the car that was already waiting outside her bungalow.

“Give me half an hour,” she told the driver.

Janey was tired and exhilarated from the meeting. She threw on a gray silk dress, going for pretty but not trying too hard. Hurriedly, she applied makeup, then headed for the door. She closed the door behind her, then realized she'd forgotten lipstick.

Whatever, it doesn't matter,
she said to herself. Then she stopped, standing still in front of the door.
No, it does matter.
Not the lipstick. Sure, a guy should be able to love her without sultry red lips. But love. Love mattered. Janey spent ten hours at the office every day. Her commitment was the reason she'd had so much success in her field. But didn't she want a boyfriend, a husband, one day a family, just as much as she wanted to be intellectually fulfilled? And yet she devoted almost no time to that desire.

It does matter,
she told herself again.
It's random and crazy, but who knows where love lies?
For all her talk about making a reality show of this strange man's vetting of potential wives, Janey wanted the fairy tale to come true. She hoped against hope that the mystery man would somehow prove to be her prince, and she was willing to make an effort. She unlocked the door and rushed back in to grab a lipstick from the powder room.

By the time they rolled up to the Bel Air mansion, it was 10:05 p.m. Janey rang the doorbell and waited. No response. After a couple of minutes she rang again, and one of the women who had interviewed her, the one with blue glasses, opened the door. She seemed like she'd rushed to the door, but she greeted Janey like an old friend.

“I'm so sorry I'm late,” Janey said. “You told me to be on time, and I respect that. But I have a good excuse—I got a new job! Today! Right now!”

“Well, congratulations! You said you wouldn't be jobless for long. Clearly your confidence was justified,” the woman, who introduced herself as Alicia, said with a smile.

“Full disclosure, I am also a notoriously bad judge of time. It's 100 percent true that I just got the job and had dinner with them and came straight here, but I want it on the record that I'm always fifteen minutes late. Reliably.”

Alicia chuckled. “Good to know,” she said. “In the grand scheme of things, what's fifteen minutes?”

“
Thank
you!” Janey said. “Let's put that on a T-shirt and retire.”

Alicia led Janey out a set of French doors, through a courtyard, and down to a patio with a tiled infinity pool. “You can't see it now, but there's a view of the ocean straight ahead. On a clear day it looks like the infinity pool flows right into it. Here, have a seat,” she said, directing Janey to a small table with votives and a vase of flowers.

“You had me at ‘infinity pool,'” Janey said.

Janey was happily drinking a mint tea when she was joined by a man who introduced himself as Rory.

“I know this is a strange way to meet—” he said.

“You think?” Janey said.

Rory had an easy laugh. “I can see you're not shy.”

“Nope, sorry. Being shy is a waste of energy, right? I mean, love isn't about being careful to say the right thing. It's just luck of the draw. Chemistry. You like me, I like you—we figure it out or we don't. Sure, I'm nervous. But so what? I could spout a million clichés about love, but ultimately I don't think it should be too hard for you to find your match. If it's hard to pick, then she's not right. Your only hurdle should be whether she likes you back. But in your case, let's be honest, you increased your chances of that when you threw ten million dollars into the pot.”

“You think that was a mistake?”

“Honestly? Totally. As soon as you're using money to attract a woman, you've established a dynamic that might never change.”

“But here you are! Aren't you a worthwhile candidate?”

“Of course I am. To me the money means I'm dealing with a grown-up. Someone who is serious about finding love.”

“But you don't think any other worthwhile candidates might feel the same?”

“Yes, but…wait…” Janey was stuck. “Okay, point for you. I concede that this is a roundabout but viable way to meet women who aren't gold diggers.
If
you have a good filter.”

Rory laughed. “Am I a good filter?”

Janey gasped. “You're just a filter? I thought you were the guy!” She punched his arm. “Oh, dude, you had me going there. Who are you, then? Who is
he?
Honestly, I'm kind of glad it isn't you. I like you, but I wasn't feeling it, you know?”

“I'll try not to take that personally,” Rory said. They talked for a while longer, Rory asking her about her past relationships and goals in life, but allowing room for the conversation to wander. After some time he stood up and reached out to shake her hand. “It's been great talking to you. But you'll have to excuse me.” He left the table and walked back up to the house.

Good Lord,
Janey said to herself. She looked around. The garden that stretched out before her was quiet; the pool reflected a sliver of moon.
Was
this evening being taped? She went over to the outdoor kitchen and snooped around, looking for any little red lights or suspicious stuffed animals, but there was no nanny cam to be found. A golden reality-TV opportunity, squandered! She knew exactly where the cameras should be positioned. Ideally they'd have a little more light, of course, but not so much that it ruined the moment. Rory had asked her about heartbreak earlier—this was heartbreak right here, this utter waste of real-life drama and intrigue.

The glass door opened again, and a new man was briefly silhouetted as he stepped out of the house. First a hot new job, now these attractive men emerging one after another. This was turning out to be quite a day. The new guy, Tony, was tall and African American. He gave her a kind of
I have no idea
shrug as he walked toward her.

“Are you a filter, too?” Janey burst out, not bothering to make small talk.

“A filter.” Tony looked down at himself, appeared to appraise his arms. “Not totally sure what you mean. But I do wear contact lenses, if that's what you're getting at.” He smiled, and Janey took note. This man had a heart-stoppingly good smile.

Janey poured more hot water into her tea. “Are you Mr. Man of Mystery? Please enlighten me. I don't know how much longer I can take the suspense.”

“Ah, no. I'm just here to get to know you a bit better.”

“A filter! I knew it.”

“That wasn't in the job description, but if that's how you'd like to see it, sure.”

“Okay, just so we're clear. Now you can…do your thing.” Janey gave an overly dramatic flourish, gesturing for him to get started, and he complied. This Tony was very easy on the eyes. Whatever their conversation was meant to achieve, she was perfectly content to draw it out for as long as possible.

“Let me ask you a question,” he said. “What do you think is the secret to a long marriage?”

“It's funny that you ask that,” Janey said. “When I was doing my thesis in film school, I interviewed a bunch of couples who had been together for at least forty years.”

“What made you decide to do that?”

“I did it because my parents were in the middle of a divorce—after twenty-five years together. They had made it so far, only to give up. I wanted to know what it takes to get past the big hurdles, past raising your children, past unexpected life changes, past distractions or affairs. What sustains a relationship into ‘till death do us part'?”

“And what did you find?” Tony said.

“Well, I was only in grad school, remember, so I can't say my insights were exceptionally original. But a few things stood out: neither person can be a perfectionist; it really helps if you make each other laugh; and the more fortunate you are in terms of steady income and health, the better your prospects. But, above all, there was just one simple thing. Both people had to believe in the commitment of marriage. They had to have faith in what they had, and to recognize that they probably wouldn't be better off in any other relationship. At some point, when things sucked—because in every relationship they sometimes do—each couple decided to look at the big picture, to believe that they could turn a corner and fall in love all over again.”

“And you, do you believe in the commitment of marriage?”

“I do,” Janey said, as if it were a solemn vow. They both laughed. “Do you?” she said.

“I do,” he said. They laughed again.

“You're sure you're not the man of mystery? Because this is kind of nice.”

“I'm afraid not, but I agree. This is kind of nice.”

There was something about this guy. She instinctively liked him. She continued, “Whatever ‘the commitment of marriage' means. What I believe is that whole idea of making it work. People can grow apart, and people can surprise you, but I think if you're honest from the start and know each other as well as two people can, then you have a fighting chance. It's not all about putting the toilet seat down.”

“Phew,” Tony said.

“Speaking of being open and honest from the start, do you think you might tell me what the hell this is all about?”

Tony laughed, a big, friendly laugh. He seemed so real and genuine, and yet he was part of this whole mysterious process. “Honestly?” he said. “I have no fucking clue. All I know is that I'm supposed to talk to you, get a feel for who you are, and some dude might or might not pick you to win millions of dollars.”

“Well, what do you think? Am I worth it?”

Tony shook his head, laughing. “In my book you are. I'm totally rooting for you. If you want to end up with a billionaire nutcase.”

“He's a nutcase?”

“Like I said, I have no fucking clue! Never met the guy.”

“If I marry him, do you think you and I could have a side thing?” Janey said. Then, “I am totally kidding, of course. That joke probably ruined my shot. Classic self-sabotage. But some guys like that, right? Please report that I was
kidding.
Do you have a notepad? Could you write it down?”

“I've got it right here,” Tony said, tapping his forehead. And there was that killer smile again. Swoon.

When Caroline emerged
from her interview, it felt like she was exiting an amusement park ride. She'd been transported to another world, one that felt thrilling and stomach-dropping at the same time. She would process it when she got home, since Alicia had told her that a driver would be arriving momentarily. Stepping out onto the front porch, Caroline was shocked to see two other women waiting. Everyone had been so attentive to her that she'd actually started to feel like she was the only remaining candidate.

“Well, hello, ladies,” said one of the women. She had pretty brown hair and a wide smile. “I'm Janey,” she said. “Oh, my God, can you believe this?”

Caroline introduced herself, as did another woman, named Suze. Suze was drop-dead gorgeous. She might have been part Asian; she was immaculately groomed and her sheath dress looked like it had been designed with her in mind.

“What the hell just happened in there?” Caroline said.

“All I know is we got swag bags!” Janey said, holding up a heavy-stock gift bag. “I've never gotten a swag bag from a date before.”

“Does this count as being paid for a date?” Suze asked, rooting through her bag. She paused, holding up a box. “I'm guessing the watch alone is worth thousands of dollars.”

“I think the whole experience falls into the category of being paid for a date—” Caroline said.

“Except we only get the big bucks if we win!” Janey laughed.

“Look at these!” Caroline said, opening a little cloth pouch and pulling out a pair of diamond studs. “Did we all get the same?”

Suze and Janey dug into their bags. Suze's earrings were a different style—daggerlike, with four smaller diamonds set in a row. And Janey, who didn't have pierced ears, found a diamond pavé bracelet.

“Holy shit,” Janey said.

“Thousands of dollars, you say? eBay here I come!” Caroline grinned.

Janey looked back at the house. “Are we the only ones? Are we three the finalists?”

“So it would seem,” said Suze. “If I were running a ten-million-dollar wife contest, I would definitely narrow it down to three.”

There was a moment of silence, then they all burst into laughter.

“Let me get this straight. Would you place the billboard on Sunset for maximum impact?” Janey asked in her best reporter's tone.

“Would you invite said candidates to your Bel Air estate, then send handsome men to flirt with them until midnight?” Caroline chimed in.

“Would you—”

“Oh, my God, is it midnight?” Suze exclaimed. “Shit, shit, shit…” She pulled out her phone and hurriedly typed into it.

“FingerLock match required,” her phone said. Suze touched a button with her thumb.

“FingerLock match achieved,” the phone said, and Suze heaved a sigh of relief.

“What the hell is going on with you, James Bond?” Janey asked.

“Is your phone about to turn into a pumpkin?” Caroline teased.

Suze blushed. “I was unable to investigate the owner of this house. It's owned by a corporation with no other trackable assets. So I set up a remote alert in case I found myself in danger.”

Janey whistled. “Nice!”

“You are way out of my league,” Caroline added. “I'm so impressed. Now tell me this. Can your FingerLock technology keep my mother from reading my e-mails?”

“Most definitely,” Suze said. “It's set for release in the spring, but I can add you to the beta list.”

“Would you? I'll put in a good word for you with our future husband, whoever he is.”

A black Town Car pulled up to the house. The driver stepped out. “Ms. Ellis?” he said.

“That's me,” Janey said. She stepped forward, then turned to the other two women. “Can't we carpool? I, for one, am not done with you guys. Maybe we can get to the bottom of this.”

“Count me in,” said Caroline.

“Yes, in theory, but shouldn't we at least confirm that we all live in the same direction?” Suze asked.

“You should win,” Janey said. Then, to Caroline: “She should totally win.”