Match Made

Chapter 2: Codicils and Connections

When Greg had asked his father why he was there and had been thrown the question about marriage he'd been furious.

"I'm not marrying Marie!"

His father hadn't missed a beat.

"Okay. So who are you going to marry?"

That question had stunned him momentarily. He looked from one old man to the other. Then looking back at Monty, he had asked, "And why are you here? Is there a law suit from the-" he bit off his expletive. He never swore in front of his father.

"Can't an old man visit his friend?" his father asked with yet another smile.

The younger man's eyes narrowed. His dad was smiling too much.

"Not you two. Not during working hours."

He had leaned back in his chair and regarded the lawyer once more. "Tell us, Monty... has Dad put a clause in his will that says I have to marry before I'm forty or be disinherited?"

He'd grinned at the end of his statement but it soon faded when Monty cleared his throat and pushed a piece of paper in his direction.

"What's this?"

"A codicil," his father had told him calmly.

He'd read through the brief document and frowned. "Why are you doing this?" he raised a hand, "And don't tell me it's because you care."

"Oh, but I do, son. I care so much I don't want you to be alone when you're my age." Grant Marshall watched his handsome son fight the desperation off his face with a little concern.

When Gregory had finally found the easiest argument to throw his dad's direction, he said mildly, "Don't you want me to be happy? Chaining me down is not the way to achieve that."

His father had thrown his head back and laughed. "I'm not chaining you son. I'm merely protecting my interests. I'd like to die peacefully, knowing that there will be a legitimate heir after you and the only way the Marshall name will continue is if you do your part and get married to a suitable woman. You are," Grant had reminded him, "my only son. My only child."

Grant had smiled as his son's fine face had clouded further. "Now why are you scowling at your dear Pops? Because I said legitimate?"

"Marie is not having my child," he'd ground out between clenched teeth, eyes flashing with suppressed rage.

"Ok," Grant had said after a pause. "I believe you."

His son had only relaxed slightly.

And throughout the rest of the discussion, Greg's countenance had slowly progressed downward. He had tried to understand that his dad was concerned about the family's future- and his own, as they were basically one and the same thing. Despite his efforts to comply, he was mentally digging his heels in the dirt because he wasn't ready for this kind of commitment on anyone's terms. He wasn't even sure if he had a heart anymore to give away even for the purposes of procreation.

A list of families and candidates had been produced the following week and by then, Greg was looking at it like a business deal. Virginal candidates were discarded first, to Monty's dry amusement, followed by college students and bookworms like the elegant Professor Witt.

And so they had gone through the list. Monty would read a name, Greg would search his mental banks for an image and then ask Monty to give him a brief history of the family. If a picture was available, he would stare at her, read through the history again and make a decision. Shortlist or waste bin.

The list had gotten down to five women by lunch the same day.

Grant had watched all this with quiet apprehension before he felt something pushing him to speak.