Okay, onto the negotiation. Thanks to everyone who has favourited/followed. And thank you to Temperance Cain for your support!
The Deal
For a few moments, Benny doesn't seem to know how to react. He gives her the look again – the one he gave her at their first US championship. Mouth quirked, slightly open. A nod.
Not an agreement. A reflex.
"You need me to…?" The mouth quirk. "What?"
"I need you to marry me," says Beth again. "So I can adopt a child."
Benny just stares at her.
He picks up his coffee. Then sets it down again without drinking it. He clicks his fingers under the table, taps his foot, leans forwards, then back like he suddenly can't get comfortable.
Maybe she should have built up to it a bit more, but at some point, she was going to have to just say it. And she prefers to be direct with people. She's never understood why people don't just say what they mean and mean what they say.
Benny clicks his fingers again.
"You want to adopt a child?" he says slowly, like he's trying to make the words make sense. Beth nods, perhaps a little over-enthusiastically. "Since when?"
"Since Thursday," says Beth.
Benny frowns. "And I was the first person you thought of to be your co-parent?" he says with a hint of disbelief.
Beth blinks at him. "Co-parent?"
"You just asked me to marry you so we can adopt a child," says Benny.
Beth shakes her head. "So I can adopt a child," she says sharply. She's never envisioned Amelia ever having a father in the picture and certainly not Benny. It's just easier if Beth does it all herself, because at least she can always trust herself to stick around. "Of course I wouldn't just ask you to co-parent a child with me."
Benny's jaw twitches like he's vaguely insulted, but she doesn't see how he can be considering he is not exactly parent material. He still carries a knife for god's sake. And he can't pay his parking tickets on time to save his life.
"You wouldn't have to do much at all really," continues Beth. "Just a quick city hall wedding with no guests and no fanfare. Then we go to Richmond to sign the adoption papers and collect the child. And after that, we can file for a divorce and you can go back to New York and wash your hands of the whole business."
Benny surveys her over the top of his coffee cup, his brown eyes searching.
"So you intend to raise the child all by yourself?" he says.
Beth nods. "It'll barely take a week of your time in total."
"But what about the kid?" says Benny.
"What about her?" says Beth.
Benny grimaces, staring at the frothy foam of his cappuccino which he still hasn't so much as sipped. "Doesn't she need a father?" he says.
It is Beth's turn to be stunned into silence. Is he being serious? His grimace suggests he must be. But she has never thought of Benny as a big nuclear family supporter. Or particularly tied into the idea of women needing men. You should always play your line, never his.
"Why?" she says, unable to keep the indignation out of her voice. "I managed perfectly fine without one."
"So did I," says Benny flatly. "But it doesn't mean I would choose it if given the option."
A memory presses at Beth. A magazine feature she once read about the young US champion. Watts - who lives with his mother in New York – doesn't talk much about his family life, the interviewer wrote. He moves swiftly onto discussing the various approaches to the Levenfish variation instead.
Beth hadn't thought much about that line when she'd first read it – she was also interested in the various approaches to the Levenfish variation – but after she got to know Benny more closely, she thought about it sometimes. He's never tried to tell her anything about his childhood, except to boast about a particularly difficult game he won as a ten-year-old and in exchange, Beth has never told him much about hers.
He knows about Methuen, if he's read any of the articles on her. And maybe he also knows about Mr Schaibel. But there's a difference between knowing something and understanding it. And neither of them have ever tried to explain themselves to each other.
Beth's skin prickles.
"Are you saying you won't do it?" she says.
Benny glances at the window, the grey streets of Milwaukee beyond the glass. It has started raining since they got here, the water trickling down the windowpane behind the cakes.
"I would pay you for your time," says Beth.
Benny looks back at her, head tilting.
"Five hundred dollars," says Beth. Benny frowns. "Or six hundred. I could stretch to six hundred."
Benny fixes her with his deep brown eyes, mouth quirking like he's still trying to figure her out and Beth considers offering seven hundred. But then he waves a hand. "No," he says firmly.
Beth's heart falters. Okay, maybe he has some parent issues, but who doesn't? She's offering him six hundred dollars here. That's equivalent to winning a medium-size chess tournament and Benny barely has to do anything except sign once for the marriage at city hall and then once for Amelia at the orphanage. And then once for the divorce at the end of it.
Beth takes a steadying breath.
"One thousand dollars," she says. "Final offer."
Benny raises an eyebrow.
"This is really important to you, isn't it?" he says.
Beth looks away. She has never tried to explain being an orphan to Benny before and she is not starting now.
"Come on Benny," says Beth. "It's the easiest one thousand dollars you'll ever earn."
"No," says Benny again.
Beth scowls. He can't seriously expect more than that. "Are you in debt?" asks Beth. "How much? I'll pay it all off."
Benny shakes his head. "My financial affairs are very much in order, thank you," he says with a hint of impatience in his voice.
"Then how much?" says Beth.
Benny gives her a hard look. "I don't want your money, Beth."
Beth feels like she is stumbling though she is sitting down. She doesn't know what else to offer him. Can she ask him to do it as a favour to her? Do they even have a close enough relationship for that these days?
Who else can she ask?
Maybe Benny senses her distress, because he sighs and leans back in his seat. "I'm not saying I won't do it, Beth," he says. "I'm just saying I won't do it if you insist on trying to pay me. Even if you don't want me around, I don't think the kid would want to know I only did it for the money."
"So you will do it?" says Beth.
Her chest feels suddenly light, but she tries to squash it. He hasn't agreed yet.
"I need to think about it," says Benny.
-O-
Beth wakes early the next morning, having slept poorly, tying herself in knots, half trying to believe Benny will agree and half planning what she will do if he doesn't. Benny asked to be given until morning to think over her proposition – well, actually he asked for a few weeks, but Beth had explained she wanted to give her answer to the orphanage by midweek and it is now Monday.
She packs up the clothes she brought to the tournament with the restless energy of a chess player about to face down their most challenging opponent. And then she paces. And then she tries to sit still and be patient and as the small hand on her watch ticks around to eight o'clock, there is a knock on the door.
Beth jumps to her feet like she's spring-loaded, almost knocking over the dressing table stall she is perched on. She wrenches open the door – if this is some poor lost soul or the cleaning services, she's not sure how she's going to contain her restlessness.
But it's neither.
Benny Watts stands in her doorway, his hat clasped in his fingers.
"Well?" she says.
He sighs. "I'll do it."
The next chapter will probably be up in about a month.
