“My dad proposed to my mum on their third date,” Chessie says, and smiles.
I stare at her, startled. “That’s keen.”
“He’s always said he knew he wanted to marry her on the first date, but he didn’t want to appear over-eager.”
“Aw.” Scarlett presses her hand over her heart, “that’s so romantic.”
“It’s nuts!” I laugh. “They probably hadn’t even slept together. Why on earth would you propose when you have no idea whether you’re compatible in or out of bed?”
“Good Lord.” Scarlett rolls her eyes. “The word romantic really isn’t in your vocabulary, is it?”
“Nope.”
“I’m so glad you’re not really marrying this oaf,” she says to Chessie, who giggles.
“Look,” I say, “back to the question, how long have we been dating?”
“It’s only been a couple of months for us,” Orson says. “So I think you can keep it shortish and have it believable. Why not make it six weeks? That’ll take you back to the beginning of April. That’s about when you started the landscape work at Midnight, right?” Chessie nods. “You can say you saw her working there,” he continues to me, “and you went for a walk while you caught up. You felt a connection, and decided to see her again. Obviously, this is your first public date, so you’ll have to say your previous ones have all been informal—picnics and whatnot, because Chessie isn’t used to the lifestyle. I’d play on that. I think the board and the press will find that cute and adorable.”
“Yeah,” Scarlett says, “the ‘wealthy, arrogant tycoon brought to his knees by a normal down-to-earth girl’ angle works well.”
“Steady on,” I say indignantly.
“She’s talking about me,” Orson replies, and Chessie giggles again.
I grin. “You’re right, I think the board would like that.”
Chessie frowns. “Wait a minute—they called you in last Saturday, right? If we’ve been dating for six weeks, wouldn’t you have mentioned it at the meeting?”
Orson taps on the table. “Oh that’s right… And when did you break up with Sabrina? You have to have started dating Chessie after that.”
“Shit.” I purse my lips. “I didn’t think about that. It was… Saturday the third of May.”
“That’s only two weeks ago,” Scarlett points out.
We all ponder that.
I frown. “I didn’t think this through.”
“It’s all right,” Orson says, “in a way it plays right into your hands. So what happened is that after that night with Sabrina,you felt disillusioned with your life, with all the beautiful models and meaningless sex.”
“Doesn’t sound like me.”
“This is fiction, obviously. So you went out for a walk around the grounds, and you met your old friend, someone you connected with years ago. The two of you hung out for a while, and she reminded you of your roots, and you found it refreshing to be with someone who doesn’t have any airs and graces, and who cares about the things that really matter in life. So you asked to see her again, and you’d been on, say, three or four dates when the board called you in. You were on the back foot, thrown by their accusations of not being respectable.”
“Which is the truth,” I add.
“It felt too soon to tell them about Chessie because you weren’t even sure how you felt about her yet. But the meeting reinforced those feelings of having lost something, and finding them again with her. Maybe it forced you to examine your life and realize that you do need to grow up and be more of a role model for these kids you want to help.”
I give him a wry look. He lifts his eyebrows. I shrug.
“You’ve spent this week seeing each other,” he continues, “and what the board said has played on your mind, and then last night you went for a late-night walk somewhere…”
“To the Waiora,” Scarlett says.
“Yes,” Orson continues, “perfect, and while you were there you realized you were so in love that you proposed.”
I give them a doubtful look. “That doesn’t sound believable.”