“Married.” Now I definitely couldn’t breathe. I was dizzy. I needed to sit down. Spotting a stack of printer paper, I lowered myself onto the top ream.
“Yes. Married.”
“This seems implausible.” Married? What a ludicrous suggestion. “This isn’t a movie, Eugene. Sorry, but I do not believe people just get married to protect themselves from greedy family members’ nefarious scheming.”
“Yes. They do. People get married to avoid being deported, to obtain a green card, to avoid testifying in court, to secure medical insurance or other tangible benefits, and—yes—even to avoid greedy family members’ nefarious scheming. It’s why marriage fraud is against the law.”
“Marriage fraud? Are you suggesting that I commit a crime?”
“No, I cannot suggest you commit a crime. That is completely unethical and I could be disbarred.”
My head was spinning so I lowered it between my legs. The last thing I needed was to faint in the supply closet. “But you can break attorney-client privilege with Caleb and warn me about his intentions?”
“I was just one of seven lawyers present during Caleb’s last visit to Sharpe and Marks. Your family’s estate employs the firm, and you are the sole beneficiary of your father’s estate. I have—personally—been on retainer, paid by your father since before you were born, since before Sharpe and I founded the practice.”
“I thought you were retiring.”
“I will be next month, for the most part, with some exceptions. The most notable exception being Zachariah Tyson. I hold your father’s power of attorney and I’m the executor of his estate, the trustee. I have fiduciary interest in carrying out your father’s wishes. You are Zachariah’s sole beneficiary. Caleb assumes too much. I have no reason to believe Caleb is ignorant of my freedom to discuss estate matters with you, at my discretion.” If I didn’t know better, Eugene almost sounded like he was grinning. “Nor have I identified any cause to clarify this point with him or any of my colleagues—including Sharpe.”
Spoken like a true lawyer.
He continued, “As long as you intend to make a life with the person you marry, it’s not marriage fraud. If you marry immediately, Caleb’s request for guardianship will look like a reaction to your marriage rather than the other way around.”
“You’re serious.”
“As my billable rate.”
Darn. “I see.”
I lifted my torso, placing my elbows on my knees; my forehead fell to my hand.
“Again, you would have to intend to make a life with this person. Kathleen, this has to be someone you’ve known for a while. Trust that Caleb will have him—or her—investigated, how long you’ve known each other, etcetera. He may try to invalidate the marriage.”
Tears of frustration stung my eyes. “What if I don’t know anyone I can ask?”
Wait.
That wasn’t exactly true.
I did know someone. My good friend, Steven Thompson. I’d known him for two and a half years and I loved him dearly. He was my plus-one whenever I had a business function, or went shopping, or wanted to go see a play.
“Kathleen, I’m not exaggerating.” Eugene cut into my thoughts with more grimness, more urgency. “There has to be someone you can ask, and not a stranger or a casual acquaintance. Because, this is it. This is your only hope. This is the only way. But it is by far your best option. The chances of invalidating a marriage in situations such as these are very slim. The chances of Caleb—as your cousin—becoming your guardian are therefore also very, very slim. Sorry to break it to you, kid, but you need to get married, the sooner the better.”
I lifted my eyes heavenward, wanting to ask, “And just how does one propose marriage to a person in a situation such as this?”
Oh, hey. I know you’re gay, but my family thinks I’m crazy. Marry me, maybe?
“Let me reiterate, this person must be someone you trust implicitly because . . .” He paused, and when he spoke next his voice was laced with uncharacteristic urgency. “Caleb will try everything, even bribery, threats, everything. Please make sure he or she knows what’s expected.”
“Please explain to me how can I do that when even I don’t know what’s expected.”
“You misinterpret my meaning. Don’t ask a friend who might have feelings for you. We don’t need that kind of complication. Let them know a platonic, trustworthy affiliation is what’s expected for, by my estimation, at least five years.”
I shut my eyes. Eugene didn’t need to worry, because Steven definitely didn’t have feelings for me. I didn’t have a choice. I had to ask Steven. If Steven wouldn’t marry me, I didn’t know who I would ask.