$10,000,000 Marriage Proposal (8 page)

When Elody put
the yellow envelope on Janey's desk, Janey assumed it had been misdelivered. Other than Elody, who hadn't hesitated to follow Janey to her new company, she hadn't told anyone about the job. Even her parents didn't know yet. Nobody knew where she was. But the messenger had found her here. Her eyes jumped down to the signature so that she could identify the sender. Tony. Did she know a Tony? She began to read.

Oh. That Tony.
Janey looked up and saw that Elody was still in the doorway, waiting expectantly.

“Is it from him? The mystery man?” Elody asked. Her radar was a little too good sometimes. Janey's eyes jumped down to the bottom of the letter. Her eyes caught the phrase
he does not think you two are a match.
She was being rejected.

“It's him, and he's rejecting me,” she told Elody. Janey skimmed the letter, in which Tony thanked her for the time and energy she'd given to “this unorthodox search” and complimented her.

The end said,

“I'm sorry,” Elody said. “You came so close. I'm sure you're disappointed.”

“A little, but at least I got a good reality show idea out of it.” Janey put the letter down on her still-clean desk. The night before, when she couldn't sleep, she had made a list of show ideas—writers she wanted to approach, areas that might appeal to them. On that list, somewhere in the middle, was the ten-million-dollar marriage proposal idea.

“I must admit I kind of got my hopes up,” Elody said. “The type of guy who would go big, risk it all—I could see him falling for you. Things always work out for you. Look how this job fell into your lap.”

“I'm bummed,” Janey admitted. “It's not that I wanted it to work out for me—I mean, it would have been nice. But as a producer, I wanted the fairy-tale ending most of all. All those women who responded to the billboard were so hopeful that this would be the beginning of the rest of their life. The interviewers were so invested. They seemed to really want it to work out for this guy. The mystery man himself was willing to invest so much to search for his one true love. I really want one woman to emerge from all that effort and expense. Out of all those women, there had to be a Cinderella ready for her Prince Charming. I want it to work out. I want a happy ending!”

“You never stop being a producer, do you?” Elody said teasingly.

“I'm afraid not,” Janey chirped, but when Elody turned away, Janey felt a lump in her throat. Being a producer got her only so far. Elody was wrong. Things didn't always work out for her. At work, maybe, but not with men. Sebastian, that cheating bastard. In hindsight, all the signs had been there, and she'd felt like such an idiot when she stumbled across the texts to other women on his cell phone.

Janey walked out onto the lot. Little golf carts drove around, and over by the soundstages workers were unloading an enormous fake snowman, dragging it between tall palm trees. She headed toward the New York street, the outdoor set that was used whenever something took place in New York. Most of the buildings were facades that could be dressed to be a hardware shop today, a deli tomorrow. Janey sat down on the stoop of one of the buildings, looking over subway stairs that led down to a flat wall. This was the place where stories were born and made out of nothing. This street was full of promise—the blank slate for everything she'd worked so hard to achieve. She'd better get to it.

She walked back toward her office, passing the huge murals of classic movies that were painted on the vast, windowless walls of the sets. Across from the door to Janey's office were Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman, cheek to cheek, three stories tall, with
Casablanca
painted in cursive below them. Janey slipped inside, embarrassed that she cared. It was ridiculous to be disappointed by a man she'd never met. But she did care. How could she be such a go-getter in her career and such a failure in her love life?

Back at her desk, Janey picked up the envelope and studied the label. It had a processing stamp, presumably from the messenger service. “Elody?” she called out. Elody popped back into the office as if she'd been waiting just outside the door. Janey handed her the envelope. “Let's track this. I'm not quite ready to give up.”

Suze assumed the
letter she'd received was the end of it. She and Meredith went out for a postgame happy hour.

“Miguel was so down-to-earth—not at all what you would expect from a millionaire. He was a good conversationalist, a good listener. I've never told anyone so much about myself on the first date. And the crazy part is that I was so interested in him that I forgot to care about the contest. I just wanted to get to know him better. So when he turned out to be the guy, I felt even worse.”

“We don't know anything, though, do we? Maybe Miguel was the guy, maybe that letter is another misleading detail, to protect the real millionaire. Maybe there's no money at all. Maybe the whole thing was a scam.”

“I wasn't scammed—I'm sure of it. I absolutely didn't release any private information.”

“Okay, then a fake. For God-knows-what reason. Maybe he gets off on jerking women around like this.”

“Could be,” Suze said. “But did you see my earrings?” She was wearing the diamond daggers now, and she'd gotten used to the sparkle. It was time she left Craig behind. “If it's a scam, it's a pretty elaborate, expensive one. I just didn't win. It happens. It wasn't a complete waste of time. I needed to…I needed to let go a little, you know?”

Meredith raised her wineglass to Suze's. “Let's toast to that,” she said. “I'm glad you said it, not me.”

The next morning Suze was in a meeting, listening to two men pitch their nonprofit: the California Schoolroom. It was an idea she liked—an online clearinghouse where charter schools could pool and redistribute resources—but she knew the executives at Redfield Partners would never go for it. Every time Suze had tried to get them to invest in educational ventures, they'd said no. Still, she was interested enough to hear the pitch.

In the middle of the meeting Meredith came rushing up to the door of her office, then stopped short when she realized that the visitors' chairs were occupied. Meredith retreated, but not before Suze noticed what she was holding: another yellow mailing envelope. For the rest of the pitch Suze tried to push aside fantasies of what that envelope might hold. Sure, that generic envelope could be anything from anyone, but from Meredith's expression Suze guessed—no, she
knew
—that it was from the contest. But she'd already been rejected. What was left to say? Impatient, Suze broke the news to the California Schoolroom guys as gently as she could.

“I'm not saying you don't have a viable product here,” she said. “Personally, I love the idea. But I'll never be able to sell the partners on it. They want to wait until we hit our fund-raising target for this year before taking on any nonprofits.” Suze ushered them out of the office, then headed straight to Meredith's cubicle.

“Where is it? What is it?” she asked.

“Open it!” Meredith flung the envelope into Suze's hands.

Somehow, by the time they crossed the hall to Suze's office, Kevin, Emily, and Jeff had joined them.

“What's it say? What's it say?” they all clamored.

Suze sat down and took out her letter opener.

“Oh, my God, you're so slow it's killing me,” Meredith said.

Suze paused. “Okay, people. I appreciate your enthusiasm. But please realize that this is the second letter I've received. The first already informed me that I lost. This is probably another legal document, a coupon for a massage, or some other buy-off. Don't get your hopes up.”

“Right,” Meredith teased. “I saw how quickly you ended that meeting. But I'll be super careful not to get
my
hopes up.”

“I'm not sure what I'm supposed to hope for,” said Jeff.

“Ten million dollars!” said Emily.

“She already lost,” Kevin, Meredith, and Jeff all said at the same time.

Suze smiled. “Glad we got that straightened out.” She opened the envelope and pulled out a letter. There was a check attached to it, made out to her, in the amount of $250,000.

“Oh, my God, what? What is it? Did you win?” Meredith was hyperventilating.

“I see a check!” squealed Emily.

“Would this be an inappropriate time for me to say that I've always thought we had a bit of chemistry?” said Jeff, so quietly that none of them noticed.

“Shhh, guys, stop. I still didn't win,” Suze said, scanning the note. “Nothing's changed. It's just that—I've been given a consolation prize. Wow. I don't know what to think.”

“How much is it?” Kevin asked.

“It's…it's a lot,” Suze said. She carefully put the check in her wallet.

“Oh, my God, that's better than winning. You get a sweet settlement, and you still get to go out and fall in love with anyone you want, rich or poor,” said Meredith.

Suze's mind was still reeling. It was so much money. What had she done to deserve it? What did it mean to accept it?

But she thought of the California Schoolroom. This was it—her chance to make a private investment in a company that might change children's lives. It was as if fate had handed her the opportunity to invest in something she was truly passionate about. She smiled and turned to Meredith. “Can you see if those nonprofit guys already left the building? If they're still here, bring them back in.”

For the second
day in a row there was a knock at the door during breakfast. This time Caroline was too slow on the draw, and her sister came running back to the table with a yellow envelope in hand.

“It's for you!” Brooke cried. “Maybe it's ten million dollars!”

“It's not,” Caroline hissed, snatching the envelope away from her and trying to hide it in the newspaper. She was too late. Isabelle stopped making coffee, came over, and pulled the envelope out of its hiding place.

“What have we here?” she asked. “Go ahead and open it, sweetie, the suspense is killing me.”

Caroline sighed. She already knew she'd lost, but what could she do? The slight stall was too much for Isabelle. She grabbed the envelope and tore it open. As she scanned it, a look of rapture crossed her face.

Caroline turned to Brooke. “Mom just found out she's a guest star on
Jay Leno's Garage?
”

Brooke took the bait. “She won a year's supply of energy supplements?”

Caroline said, “It's from Jesus Christ himself.”

Brooke added, “Hence the messenger.”

“Are you ladies quite done making fun of your poor old mother?” Isabelle asked. She handed the letter to Caroline. “Forgive me for caring.”

Caroline recognized the letterhead on the note—a logo with the initials
GM
—it was the same as on the rejection note she'd received the day before. But to her surprise, this note politely requested her presence at the offices of Greenfield May. Why? What could this mean? She'd already been notified that Nicholas was not continuing the contest. She turned the paper over. The back was unsurprisingly blank. There was no other information.

Isabelle had no idea that Caroline had already received a letter informing her that the contest was over without a winner. Isabelle was about to explode with joy. She pulled Caroline out of her chair and, despite meeting complete resistance, tried to dance her around the kitchen. “You've done it! I'm so proud of you!”

“Mom—I don't think—”

“Greenfield May. You know who that is, don't you?” Isabelle screeched.

“As a matter of fact, I've never heard of them.”

Isabelle squinted at Caroline. “When is the meeting? Let's see if Andre can squeeze you in for some highlights before then.” She grabbed the bagel out of Caroline's hand. “And why don't you hold off on the carbs? I'll get you some celery. Two days
can
make a difference. It's all bloat, but who cares.”

Caroline reread the letter. Why should she go to this meeting? He'd already wasted her time, gotten her hopes up, and, perhaps worst of all, sent her mother down a rabbit hole of fantasy from which she might never return. Why hadn't this guy just asked a few girls out on dates? Maybe hired a top-notch matchmaker? Caroline was tired of all the over-the-top secrecy and maneuvering. She wanted to hock the diamond studs, find an apartment, and get back to her life.

But she had to go.

The offices of
Greenfield May were in one of the new, hip seaside developments that were starting to take over Venice. As Caroline exited the elevator on the third floor, it occurred to her that her mother, who had reacted to the name of the business, had never explained what it was and why she was so excited by it. And Caroline had failed to google it. Her hand went to her pocket, toying with her phone. Now she was suddenly dying to google Greenfield May, but it was too late. Janey was already sitting in the lobby, gazing at a wall-sized aquarium, when Caroline arrived.

“Caroline, yay! These fish are supposed to make me calm, but I don't feel calm yet. I have to quit coffee, don't I? I don't know why I'm happy to see you—you're the competition. I think.”

“All I can say is I have no idea what is going on,” Caroline said. She also felt kind of glad to see a familiar face. Should she ask Janey if she'd also gotten a rejection letter before this meeting? What if Janey hadn't been rejected? What if Janey was here as the leading candidate and Caroline was something less? A backup. Heck, for all Caroline knew, Janey was another judge. In which case Caroline wanted to give her a piece of her mind. So she said, “Frankly, I'm kind of over this, and I don't care if he knows. He thinks we're at his beck and call. And he already sent me a letter telling me I wasn't the one.”

“Me, too!” Janey said. “I actually had to plead my case to get this meeting.”

“What did you do?” Caroline was impressed. If he wanted a go-getter, Janey was clearly his woman.

“I realized that at work I fight tooth and nail for projects I care about. I should devote the same effort to my love life, right? If it doesn't work out, well, I'm used to that. My shows get killed constantly. But I'd like to at least know I made my pitch.”

Caroline felt an extra swell of nervousness. Should she be fighting tooth and nail for this? How could she fight for someone she'd never met? She envied Janey's conviction. “So what happens now?” Caroline asked.

“That's for him to know and us to find out,” said Janey.

A door opened and out stepped a woman they both recognized, Alicia of the blue glasses.

“Hello, ladies. Nice to see you again. Janey, can you please come with me?”

“Wish me luck,” Janey said with an exaggerated wink at Caroline.

“Sorry, can't do that,” Caroline said, laughing. Janey disappeared into the office, and Caroline was left in the waiting room. For the first fifteen minutes she read the news on her phone, looking up with anticipation whenever she heard the faintest noise. Then, as time went on, she got increasingly anxious. What did it mean that Janey had been called in first? Why was this taking so long? Janey must be doing well. Whose brilliant idea had it been to call both of them in at the same time? Maybe she should just give up and go home. After forty-five minutes she stopped caring whether she was being watched or might be busted and finally googled Greenfield May. She began to read the Wikipedia entry:
Greenfield May is an investment firm specializing in international—

“Excuse me, Caroline? Are you ready?” Alicia had silently entered and was standing over her. Caroline fumbled to shut off the phone. Alicia led Caroline past the elevator bank, where Janey stood, tucking an envelope into her bag. Letting Alicia get a bit ahead, Caroline slowed down to whisper to Janey.

“Did you meet him?”

Janey nodded. “Ye—”

Before she could say more, Alicia gestured Caroline forward urgently. Janey whispered a quick “Good luck.” Caroline hurried away, down the hall after Alicia. This was it. She was going to meet the mystery man at last.