The Nouveau-riche Romance

Joan Hargreaves was going back home, she had left home to study industrial design at the University of Washington, out of spite for her father who wanted her to inherit the family business.

When she left home she promised never to come back, she hated her father that much. That was six years ago, she's grown since then, she'd finished college, got a good job as an industrial designer, and paid off her debts. 

She learned to forgive her father and was even planning on a visit, so it came as a shock to her when she received an anonymous letter two days ago with news of her father's death. She hoped it was all a lie, a ruse to make her come home, or a sick prank, and when she gets to Hargreaves hall, her father would still be alive and they would both have a laugh about it, it was so long ago she and her father laughed together. 

Joan groaned as she exited the New York Penn Station, it took the Amtrak train she boarded from Washington DC a little over three hours to get to New York, her aunt and best friend, Francesca Baker had promised to pick her up.

Francesca is her late mother's sister, a thirty-two years old matchmaker, her grandparents had her late, and Joan's mother had practically raised her, although it's been six years since she saw any other members of her family, Joan saw Francesca on every break when she was in college, and after she graduated from college Francesca visited her anytime she had an excuse to come to Washington.

"Hey kiddo, miss me?" Francesca hollered, sauntering towards Joan, Joan couldn't help but marvel at her aunt's beauty, wavy blonde hair, stunning green eyes, and tall athletic body.

"you are a sight for sore eyes, Fran," Joan said pulling her in for a hug, Francesca never let Joan call her aunt, she argued it made her feel old. "And yes, I have missed you."

"Oh don't get too soulful on me," Francesca muttered pulling away from the hug. "Come on, the car's parked this way," Francesca took Joan's suitcase and led her to her car, a 2020 Hyundai Tucson SUV. 

"So did you find anything?" Joan asked as Francesca put the car in drive.

"Nothing, if anything happened, they are keeping it tight," Francesca scowled, Joan had asked for help checking the validity of the anonymous letter's content, but she had not been able to achieve much, Francesca could smell something rotten in the whole affair. "Still have no idea where that letter came from?"

"No idea," Joan replied staring out the streets of Manhattan, it truly has been six long years.

"Well, the bright side is your shrew of a stepmother can't deny you access to Hargreaves hall, as she did me," Joan's stepmother Mabel had denied Francesca entrance into the Hargreaves family home the day before when she asked to see Abraham Hargreaves, Joan's father, she'd said Francesca wasn't family.

"Oh I'm so sorry about that, it must've been embarrassing," Joan said apologizing for her stepmother's rudeness.

"You don't have to worry about it, it wasn't your fault. But, I do have some fears Jo, your father has not been seen in public for a couple of months," Francesca was hesitant, she didn't know how to tell her niece, that her father might truly be dead.

"I know what you're trying to say, Fran, there's a chance father's dead, but I can't put it to just a maybe, I need to be sure," Joan stated as they eased into Madison avenue. They drove the next couple of minutes to Carnegie Hill in relative silence. 

"We're here," Francesca declared as she drove her car to a stop before a Victorian-era-style mansion. She and Joan walked the short distance to the house's front door, Joan shakily pressed the doorbell and waited for a response. 

The door was opened by the old and frail Mrs. Edwards, the old woman who has worked as the Hargreaves housekeeper for many years, she also helped Joan's father raise her after her mother's death.

"Oh Mrs. E it's so good to see you," Joan pulled the stunned old woman into a hug. "I've missed you."

"J... Joan, you're home, oh my goodness, but your father, you've missed him, child, he's gone." Mrs. Edwards cried leading Joan into the Hargreaves home. 

She couldn't respond to any of it, not the opulence of Hargreaves hall, nor the questioning glances of the house helps, or the surprised facial expression on her uncle and stepmother, none of it registered to her. All she saw was her father lying there, vulnerable, exposed, lifeless with a suit on, in a coffin.

'It couldn't be!' she screamed repeatedly in her head.

****

The next couple of days were a blur for Joan, she only remembered bits and pieces of it, she remembered her return to Hargreaves hall only to find her father dead. 

And with her discovery of their little hoax, her uncle Jacob and stepmother Mabel had announced her father's death to the public and had rushed his funeral. 

At the funeral she met old acquaintances and new ones who offered their condolences and how sorry they were, it was all just strangers gibbering about their time with her father, it was all tiring, and it was only thanks to Francesca she had not broken down. 

The only person of note she met at the funeral was her father's lawyer, who had given her some documents to look at and sign off on. Apparently, before his death, her father had transferred his Hargreaves Corporation shares to her name and had also given her the family's cabin house at the Adirondack Mountains. 

It had taken her a couple of days before she opened the documents, but as she read through some of them, she saw how screwed her family had become. Hargreaves Corporation was in debt, the company had seen a sharp decline in the last couple of years. It was clear the anonymous letter sent to her was right, Jacob and Mabel truly were ruining the company, she had to do something, but, she knew next to nothing about how to save a company from shutting down.

"Hello, earth to Joan!" Francesca cried out at Joan. "where is your head at Jo?" Francesca chuckled at her startled face.

"I was just going over these documents," Joan said putting down the Hargreaves financial statement, for the first time since moving in with Francesca, she began taking stock of her aunt cum friend's apartment.

Francesca lived in what Joan would simply call modern luxury, she lived in an apartment complex called 'The Coop' right at the center of the NoHo neighborhood of Manhattan, the apartment complex was an assortment of modern facilities and spacious luxury apartments, and Francesca's apartment was breathtaking, a two-bedroom, two baths luxury.

White-colored wall, a white leather sofa, a white barrel chair, a coffee table, and a beautiful piece of painting adorned the living room space, to the right was the kitchen with a marble top island and small dining to the kitchen's left side, to the right side of the kitchen was the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. Francesca's job as a matchmaker paid quite a lot, but she has also benefited from the Baker family inheritance. 

"Hey Jo, you're zoning out again, are you okay?" Francesca asked concerned for Joan, her niece had gone through so much the last couple of days.

"Yeah I'm alright, I'm just concerned about the company, Mabel and Jacob are ruining it, I mean I thought I didn't want anything to do with the company, but now I'm upset because of it," Joan stopped talking, mortified at herself for jabbering at her aunt. "And I'm talking at you, so sorry, but does my rant make sense to you?"

"Of course it does, kiddo, Hargreaves Corporation is your family legacy, you're right to want to protect it. Now, tell me, what do you think is the solution to this problem."

"To be honest I don't know, but I believe we need a new leadership that does, and then money, a whole lot of it, which we don't have." Joan sighed, her mental limit was getting strained.

"I might have a solution to your money problems," Francesca said with a bit of trepidation, Joan isn't going to like this. "And you only need to go on one date."

"What do you mean?" Joan asked, confused by her aunt's words.

"Well, it's an ancient practice, used only by a few at the moment"

"An ancient practice that produces a huge amount of dollars, and I've never heard of it?" it was Joan's turn to stare at Francesca with some apprehension.

To make Joan understand, Francesca brings out a shortlist of men -two men really- who had asked for her services and were capable of financing Hargreaves Corporation.

"Pick one out of this two you would go on a date with," Francesca knew this was a no-brainer, of the two men, one was a fifty-one-year-old widow and the other a twenty-eight-year-old bachelor.

"Ah, Asher Evans it is then, I'll set a date for your first meet with him," Francesca declared when Joan picks the twenty-eight-year-old bachelor.

Although Francesca thought it was quite unfortunate that her niece should go on a date with the wicked rascal, she had to concede, desperate times, desperate measures.

"I don't understand, why would I go on a date with him?"

"I told you it's an old tradition, it's an alliance between families, a marriage of opportunity, but who knows, it might spark some romance you desperately need in your life," Francesca stated beaming at Joan.

"Y...you are asking me to marry?" Joan stuttered, she couldn't comprehend her aunt's words.

"Yes I am, a marriage of convenience."