Must-Have Husband

outdoors. A valet went immediately to the driver’s side, ushering Linda out of the car, while two others elegantly opened car doors for Connie and Mac, offering to assist with luggage. Mac didn’t have much except for the rucksack he’d slung in the trunk, and he was capable of carrying that himself. Likely much more capable than the slender, elderly man who offered to take it for him. Mac was floored. He didn’t think people really had butlers anymore. At least they didn’t in the neighborhood he came from. He stared up at the peach-colored house, styled somewhat like an Italian villa, and counted ten sets of windows across, and that was on either side of the looming front door. The upstairs appeared even grander, with pretty balconies protruding from french doors that swept across the building’s stucco façade.
    Connie and Linda chatted easily with the old man, who Connie introduced as Charles, and the sweet middle-aged lady named Matilda who fussed over the girls, telling them how well they looked after their time out “in nature.” Neither seemed to miss a beat when Connie claimed him as her fiancé. Each had simply given him a cursory once-over and said they hoped he’d enjoy his stay. In an odd sort of way, Mac’s appearance seemed fairly routine to them. Mac secretly wondered just how many other fiancés Connie had previously brought home, then decided he’d better not ask. As the valet drove the car away, the front door swung open before they could reach it.
    “Darlings!” an elegant fifty-something woman said. She was neatly put together with a soft complexion and yellow-gold hair spun up in a twist.
    “Hi, Mom,” the girls said in turn, giving her quick hugs.
    “I heard you come through the front gate, and—” She turned her gaze suddenly on Mac. “Well, hello. Who do we have here?”
    Matilda and Charles stepped past her, carting the girls’ luggage up a curved staircase. The stunning entrance hall was plastered with works of art and dripping with elegant chandeliers. Through archways beyond it, Mac spied more staff members setting up dining tables draped with white linen cloths in a central courtyard plumed with potted plants and flowers. Silverware clanked lightly as place settings were laid around blooming centerpieces.
    “Mother,” Connie said, proudly taking his arm. “I’d like you to meet Mac, my fiancé.”
    “Your…? I’m sorry, did you say fiancé ?”
    Connie nodded triumphantly, and their mom leaned toward Linda with a whisper. “What happened to…?” she asked, but not quite quietly enough.
    Connie waved her free hand in the air. “Ancient history, but this man, here…” She tugged Mac toward her by their interlinked arms. “ He is my future.”
    “Oh my.” She looked back and forth between the two of them, her aristocratic cheekbones turning a dusty rose. “Well, Mac,” she said, collecting herself. “It’s very nice to meet you.” She extended her hand. “I’m Elizabeth Oliver. Welcome to our home.”
    “I thought I heard chatter!” A middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair drew near, appearing from the west wing. “Linda, Constance, welcome back.” He curiously eyed Mac. “Greetings.”
    “Mac’s the fiancé ,” Elizabeth said with a tight smile.
    The color drained from his face. “The what?”
    Connie extended the fingers of her left hand, flashing him a lovely solitaire. She and Linda had agreed she couldn’t surface with a fake fiancé and no ring. It had been a simple matter of sliding the one back on her finger that Walt had given her. Since he’d refused to take it back, she hadn’t even removed it until the morning of their hiking excursion. It was practically like an old friend, having spent barely any time off her finger at all. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and stared at Connie.
    “You and I need to talk,” she said, forcing out words lined with sugar.
    “Sure, Mom,” Connie said brightly. “Just as soon as Mac settles in.”
    “Mac,” her father said with an appraising frown, “I’m Wendell Jr., but calling me Mr. Oliver will work fine.”
    Mac nodded. “Thank you for including me in your family’s celebration.”
    “Why, you’re practically family too.” Elizabeth demurely cocked her chin. “Aren’t you?”
    Connie loudly shut the front door behind her as a younger man bounded down the steps. He appeared to be in his twenties with a solid build and dark hair like his father’s.
    “Well, look who’s