Marriage by Contract. Sandra Steffen

dishes were whisked away to the kitchen, Beth’s offer to help with the cleanup quickly denied. The Petrocelli women were very formidable, giving their men strict orders to watch the children and keep Beth duly entertained. It didn’t take long for Tony’s father and brothers-in-law to draw him into a discussion about baseball, oblivious to their children’s noisy play and the woman they’d been instructed to amuse. Seizing a moment of solitude, Beth strolled through an arched doorway and into another room.

      The room was small and appeared to be used as some sort of den. An overstuffed sofa took up one wall, and a cozy armchair was placed at a comfortable angle nearby with doily-topped end tables on either side. There was an old television in one corner, and everywhere, on every available surface, sat framed photographs in all shapes and sizes. Beth studied them, intrigued.

      There was a black-and-white snapshot of a man in uniform, another of a solemn-faced wedding couple, and color photos of everything from first communions to weddings to smiling babies. Tony’s sisters looked so much alike it was difficult to tell who was who. But Tony was easy to spot. She’d noticed the way his mother, grandmother and four sisters all doted on him, making it obvious that he was the family favorite—because he was the only boy, or because he kept himself slightly aloof, she couldn’t be sure.

      “Are you hiding or wandering?”

      Beth spun around, flushing guiltily. Tony was leaning in the doorway, one hand in his pocket, a lazy light in his eyes. Wondering what had happened to her air of calm and self-confidence, she said, “A little of both, I suppose.”

      He pushed himself from the doorway and ambled farther into the room. “They can be overwhelming at times. Believe me, I know.”

      Beth found herself smiling. Although she had wandered into this room to catch her breath and grab a moment of solitude, she certainly couldn’t fault the Petrocellis for the way they’d welcomed her tonight. Shrugging, she said, “Your family is wonderful. I’m just not used to all the touching and embracing and, well, all the noise.”

      Tony stopped a few feet away, his gaze trailing over photographs he’d seen a thousand times. “You learn to tune it out. Your family isn’t noisy?”

      “Hardly. I only have one sister. We’re very different.”

      Something about her tone of voice drew his gaze. “Different, how?” he asked.

      She shrugged one shoulder. “Janet is beautiful, poised and gracious. She’s two years older than I am, and she has always made all the right choices. She married a handsome, intelligent man and has three beautiful, intelligent children.”

      Tony thought they all sounded extremely politically correct, and wondered why it irked him. Before he was able to come up with an answer, Beth began clicking off names on her fingers. “Let me see if I’ve gotten your family straight. Your father’s name is Vince, your mother is Elena. Carmelina is married to Nick Santini. Gina’s husband’s name is Teddy Bulgarelli. There’s Andreanna and Rocky Grazanti, and Maria and…what’s Maria’s husband’s name again?”

      “Frank Giovanni.” His answer had been automatic. Why wouldn’t it be? He’d known Frankie all his life.

      With a rustle of silk that kicked his heartbeat into overdrive, she bent down to study another photograph. “Is there anyone in your family who hasn’t married a fellow Italian, Tony?”

      He caught a whiff of decadently expensive French perfume, and suddenly, he didn’t want to talk about his family. He waited for his silence to draw her attention, letting his gaze travel over her soft, elegant blouse and long, straight skirt.

      “There’s me,” he whispered.

      Beth straightened slowly. Had she moved closer, or had he? In the tight space so near him, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say or do. Tony seemed to have no such problem. His breath felt warm on her cheek. A moment later, his lips touched hers. This was the first time he’d kissed her today. She suspected he’d been on his best behavior, but there was no disguising the passion running through him right now.

      There was a ruckus in the next room, but it was Elena Petrocelli’s voice coming from the doorway that drew Tony and Beth apart. Calling for attention with a loud clap of her hands, she said, “It’s nice to see that my son takes after his father, but there will be plenty of time for that later. Now, come. Quickly. We have wedding plans to make.”

      Beth and Tony ended up in the next room, surrounded by Petrocellis who were all talking at once.

      “Bethany,” Elena said, “will your mother be helping you with the wedding plans?”

      Beth barely had time to shake her head before Tony’s mother rushed on. “Uh! No problem. I’ve planned four weddings already, and would love to help with yours and my Anthony’s. I know the two of you will be busy with adoption proceedings—I can hardly wait to meet my new grandson. You just leave the wedding plans to me.”

      “We’ll have to see about a hall.”

      “And food, Mama. We’ll need plenty of food.”

      “Tony, were you thinking of an autumn wedding? Or winter?”

      Beth cast a look at all the people who were talking and gesturing a mile a minute, then slowly turned her gaze to Tony’s. He leaned closer and said, “I told you they were overwhelming.”

      She smiled. She hardly knew this man, yet she had an unsinkable feeling that everything was going to be all right. Tony obviously had strong family ties, and would undoubtedly be a good father to Christopher. Although arranged marriages weren’t common in this day and age, they’d certainly been effective in other eras. She’d married Barry for love. And look how that had turned out. Perhaps a marriage based on mutual respect and the love of an innocent child would fare better.

      Tony raised his voice above all the noise. “Sorry to disappoint all of you, but Beth and I aren’t going to have time for a big wedding. We’re going to be married as soon as possible.”

      “As soon as possible!” Rosa exclaimed.

      “That won’t give Aunt Pasqualina much time to make her famous wedding cake,” Elena sputtered.

      “The nice thing about Aunt Pasqualina’s cakes,” one brother-in-law, Beth thought it was Frank, said, “is that you don’t actually eat them.”

      “That’s right,” Nick Santini agreed. “We’re still using the cake from our wedding to prop open the back door.”

      After giving her husband a sharp jab in the ribs, Carmelina asked, “What do you mean by as soon as possible?”

      Tony glanced at Beth. “A week at the latest.”

      A gasp went through the room. “A week!” Elena said. “But, Anthony, we’ve been waiting all our lives to hear you say ‘I do’ in a proper wedding ceremony.”

      Beth didn’t like the guilt that flooded her. Trying to soften the family’s disappointment, she said, “In order to adopt Christopher, we must be married as soon as possible.”

      Mention of the baby changed everything. The Petrocellis took turns nodding and shaking their heads. “A week!” Rosa said. “That don’a leave us much time.”

      “That’s all right, Grandma,” Tony said. “We’re planning to be married by a judge.”

      A little girl whined over a bumped knee, and a baby started to cry. The adults took the news even worse. Mouths dropped open, then snapped shut, and chaos erupted all over again. Grandma Rosa muttered in Italian, and Vince and Elena sputtered between themselves. Turning suddenly, Elena said, “Anthony, this is a wedding, not a traffic violation. If you must be married within a week, so be it, but at least do it in front of God and Father Carlos.”

      “But, Mama,” Gina insisted, “Father Carlos insists upon a six-month waiting period.”

      Elena, whose black hair was streaked with gray, turned to Tony and Beth. Raising her chin