Page 19 of Never Marry the Best Man (Whatever It Takes #4)

Carrier pigeon as backup

List of local libraries for email

Resume therapy

Ranney

By now, Nessa had joined Ranney in a little cluster around Ani, whose initial storm of tears had subsided.

The three of them were working their phones and laptops, occasionally sharing a piece of information as they rearranged schedules and researched orthopedic rehab facilities in Austin.

Ignacio had taken up a post in the hall, outside the closed door.

Ranney was also in communication with Claire, whose wildest fantasies of being left alone in the Western wilderness with multiple male members of the British aristocracy–at a private resort with a Michelin-rated chef and five-thousand-thread-count sheets–were improbably coming true.

The only fly in the ointment thus far was their stubborn insistence on independence.

The four-course picnic lunch that Claire had ordered for them (smoked trout paté!

Chilled Sancerre!) was rejected in favor of ham sandwiches, hard-boiled eggs, and beer.

Her suggestion for after-dinner entertainment that night–a horse-drawn carriage ride in the moonlight–had been flatly refused.

It seemed they were planning to play cards and go to bed early.

Ranney smothered a smile.

Try to remember that you’re not the event planner, she typed. It’s a fishing trip; it has its own agenda. You are there to handle any problems. Or to head off a problem if you see one coming.

But this is a once-in-a-lifetime event! Claire replied. It should be unforgettable and romantic!

Even though it was a text, Ranney could almost hear the wail in her voice. And yet – romantic? In what universe was a bachelor party romantic ?

It’s already is unforgettable. The guest of honor is in surgery, remember? And a rainbow trout sounds kind of romantic. As fish go. She added a smiley face. I’ll be there sometime tonight.

Tom had been engrossed in his phone since he finally got it charged.

Glancing over, she saw that he was sitting forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, staring at the screen.

Not scrolling or typing, just staring. Suddenly she remembered that he’d tried to get her attention ten minutes ago, and she went to check.

“Everything okay?” she asked, touching his shoulder lightly. Without looking, she could feel Nessa’s eyes boring into her back.

“Yes and no.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been promoted and disqualified.”

“What?”

“Pryce is offering me a partnership based on being short-listed for the prize, but it turns out I am no longer in the running for the prize. I don’t meet the requirements.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s called the Saltzman Prize for American Architecture, but they mean, designed by American architects. I live in the States but I am technically still a UK citizen. I’m not eligible.”

Ranney stared at him silently, absorbing the information. Even if she hadn’t seen his face or his dejected posture, she would have known this was devastating news.

"There must be some kind of work around. Maybe we can brainstorm a solution. After all, this is what I do. I fix impossible situations,” she said slowly.

This was what she did, all day, every day.

She fixed unfixable problems, and if she couldn’t, she called someone who could. “It just might take a little time.”

For a second, he looked up at her, and she could see a spark of hope in his eyes, but it disappeared just as quickly.

“There is no time. The deadline is in ten days.”

“Ten days? That’s forever! I usually have twenty minutes!”

“Look, I appreciate you wanting to help, but we are talking about a long, slow bureaucratic process involving two governments. I’ve been planning to apply for dual citizenship–my mother was American.

She moved to England as a small child. I just got busy with relocating and settling in and working.

But I haven’t gone any further than looking it up online.

Pryce handled all the government work issues.

This isn’t going to be resolved in ten days. ”

“Architecture was a good choice for you. With that kind of negative attitude, you would never make it in the wedding protection business.”

“All right, then,” he said. “Have a go at it. Where do you start?”

“Let me sit down there.” She’d been holding her laptop under one arm; sitting in his chair, she flipped it open and started googling. “I need the Saltzman rules. Can you send me the link?”

“Absolutely.”

Fifteen minutes later, when the orthopedic surgeon opened the door, he found four adults hunched over their screens in silence.

Ani jumped to her feet, followed by Tom, and while they consulted, Nessa moved over to where Ranney sat by the window.

Her intention was to avoid eavesdropping on a private medical conversation, but it gave her a convenient chance to investigate.

“We’re making some progress with PT facilities. Ani doesn’t want to reschedule anything if she can avoid it.” In an elaborately casual tone, she added, “What’s going on over here?”

“I’m helping Tom with a professional problem,” Ranney replied, but she didn’t look up from her laptop.

“That’s fair, I guess. He helped you out last night, right?”

“Not really,” Ranney said neutrally, still engrossed in whatever she was doing, but also trying not to take her daughter’s bait. “We just both happened to get left behind when the plane took off.”

“Huh. How did that happen? I’ve never known you to miss a plane before, or anything else, for that matter.”

“They–it–” Finally, Ranney dragged her eyes off the screen. “Nessa, what are you getting at?”

“Nothing! Just, this is all pretty unusual. Thought you might like to tell me the story. Private jet, broken bones, emergency landing, total loss of communication… handsome guy who basically hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the two of you showed up…”

“Please don’t be ridiculous, Nessa. As you say, this is already unusual and stressful enough. But it all goes with the territory of the job.”

“Mmm. Sure.” Turning, she adjusted the mesh window shade and studied the parking garage below for a moment. “How old would you say he is, anyway?”

“Nessa, how would I know that?”

“I’m sure it’s in his file.”

“I had no reason to look it up.”

“Or he might have mentioned it, since you were together all night.”

“Well, he didn’t. And I didn’t ask. And we weren’t ‘together all night’! What is this all about?”

“Nothing, I told you.” She squinted at Ranney’s screen. “U.S. Immigration? Isn’t he an architect?”

Ranney’s eyes met her daughter’s in surprise. Nessa glanced away. “Unlike you, I read everyone’s file.”

“Yes, he is. He needs to expedite his dual citizenship application.”

“Good luck with that. I think the U.S. immigration department is pretty busy these days.” She paused, obviously considering.

“Why don’t you ask Carmine? His – his and Natalya’s, I mean my half – my sisters are dual citizens, aren’t they?

Actually, triple. UK through Natalya, who has Russian and UK citizenship. American through Dad.”

The expression on Ranney’s face fell somewhere between I would rather drink antifreeze than ask my ex-husband’s advice and My child is a savant .

“I do not know how to thank you,” Ani was saying to the doctor, her voice shaking with emotion. Tom shook his hand and he headed for the door, nodding at Ranney and Nessa.

“What did he say?” Ranney asked.

“Charlie is going to be fine!” Ani said joyously. “He is in recovery!” She began to weep again, and Ignacio stuck his head into the room, checking. Behind him, a small woman wearing a hospital nameplate appeared.

“Good morning. I’m from patient accounts. Is Mr. Sanderson here?”

“He’s in recovery,” Tom supplied. “I’m his cousin. This is his fiancée, AnaMaria Herrera.”

“I just need to go over some insurance details. Nothing to really worry about, we have many patients who are visiting from other countries. But I will need some information. Which of you would have that?”

“Ani, why don’t you go meet with this nice woman in her office? Get Ciara on the line. You have her number?”

Ani nodded.

“Conference her in. She’ll handle everything. If you can’t figure something out, call me, I’ll be right here. Nessa–it’s Nessa, right?–can go with you so she’s in the loop. Ranney and I have some things to go over.”

Nessa’s tiny eye roll was almost imperceptible, except to her mother. Picking up her bag, she smiled cheerfully at Ani and said, “Perfect. Ready to go?” But as she exited the room, she left the door to the hall wide open.

Maybe it was general tiredness–she didn’t get enough sleep last night to fully recover from yesterday’s stress–but Ranney felt a flash of irritation. Nessa was acting like a child and it wasn’t amusing anymore.

“Well?” he said, as soon as they were alone. “Did you find the magic solution?”

“Not exactly, not yet. But I have, um, a contact, someone I can ask. A subject-matter expert.” Opening her texts, she scrolled down and began typing.

I am with a client and I have a question that you may know the answer to. Is there such a thing as a fast track to U.S. citizenship? Dual passport maybe? Client’s mother is American, father is British. Any other thoughts?

It was evening in London, and experience had taught her that this was her best chance for reaching Carmine. Sure enough, three bouncing dots appeared.

Dual cit not hard to get but slow process. Marriage is the fastest way. So no problem for your client

It’s not the wedding couple, she typed back. Family member. In a situation.

Crypto billionaire criminal? LOL Marry him/her yourself–your company does whatever is necessary, right? I could use the break on alimony

Ranney pictured him in his paneled study, seated in a leather armchair, cognac in hand, cracking himself up. It hadn’t been her idea to get a divorce. She felt her blood pressure spike.