Chapter Fourteen

Ted Braden parked his four-door 1200GX as close as he could to the glass entrance of Devoy's Market. He missed his Corvette, not that he would ever drive it to the supermarket and leave it defenseless against a wind-blown army of steel carts on wheels.

It didn't take five seconds for someone to recognize him.

"You're Ted Braden!" a woman said as the supermarket doors slid open in front of him. She nearly pushed her cart into his chest in her excitement. "Is Jordan here too?"

"No, she's not. Nice to see you," Ted said hurriedly. He grabbed a plastic shopping basket and rushed past the woman into the store.

"Hey, Ted Braden!" a man shouted from one of the check-out lines. Suddenly Ted was surrounded by people, some pushing supermarket receipts at him to autograph. "Where's Jordan?" one voice asked. "Is Jordan here?"

Ted politely fended off the growing crowd and worked his way back toward the electric doors. "Gotta run," he said. "Nice to see everybody." He waved and backed out of the store as fast as he could. As the doors closed behind him, he heard the crowd break into applause.

Ted's wireless rang as he was getting back into the car. "Hello?" he answered.

"Hi."

"Jordan!" Ted said. "I have regards for you from sixty people at the supermarket."

"It's insane, isn't it? You can't imagine the scene I caused at the dry cleaners yesterday. Some guy offered me a thousand dollars for my dirty clothes."

Ted thought about that for a moment. "Eee-yew," he said.

"I know," Jordan agreed. "I just picked up your message. Hope I'm not calling at an inconvenient time."

"Not at all," Ted said. He started the engine and turned on the air conditioning. "I wanted to ask you if you'd have dinner with me tonight. I want to apologize for that whole incident at the house with Julia the other night."

Jordan paused a moment before answering. "Okay," she said. "I guess we should enjoy life while we still can."

"I'll pick you up," Ted said, a little unsettled by her gloomy tone. "Where would you like to go?"

"We can't go to a restaurant," Jordan said. "We'll be mobbed."

"Oh, yeah," Ted said. "Well, how about if you come over to my place at seven and we'll figure it out from there?"

You are reading "The 37th Amendment," a novel by Susan Shelley. Copyright 2002. All rights reserved. This material may not be republished, retransmitted, printed, copied or distributed in any manner, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the author. Permission is granted for publication of short excerpts in the context of a review or commentary, provided the material is appropriately credited.

It was five o'clock when Ted heard an energetic knock on the door. He opened it to find Jordan standing there, looking like a Roman sculpture in an ivory washed-silk dress. She was beaming. "I know I'm early," she said. "But I had to see your face when I told you."

"Told me what?" Ted said.

"We're off the hook!" Jordan nearly shouted, extending her arms with the triumph of a gymnast sticking a landing.

"What?"

"There isn't going to be any re-trial!" she said. "I just heard from my friend Carmen at work. She said Huron's afraid it would end his political career. No re-trial. They haven't announced it yet but all charges against us will be dropped!"

Ted took Jordan's hand and pulled her into the house. "I don't understand," he said. "We had a mistrial. You told me that means the whole trial has be done over again."

"Ordinarily, it would." Jordan's smile was dazzling. "But it turns out we are too popular to prosecute. We are about to be completely and totally free." She stood very close to him and tilted her head back.

Ted felt tears start to well in his eyes. "I have to tell Flynn," he said. He turned and raced for her bedroom door. Jordan's smile fell. "I'll be downstairs," she said.

Jordan set her small handbag on the coffee table next to the living room sofa and took out her wireless. Suddenly it rang in her hand. "Jordan Rainsborough," she answered. "Yes, I just said that. This is Jordan Rainsborough. Oh! Yes, I'll hold for him." She paced to the center of the room and back.

Ted came trotting down the stairs. "Flynn's pretty excited," he said. "She's on the phone telling all her friends. I hope this wasn't supposed to be a secret." Jordan held a hand up to silence him. "Fine, thanks," she said into the phone, "How are you, Mr. Beiderbeck?"

Ted's eyes widened a little. She couldn't be talking to Jeffrey Beiderbeck, he thought. It had to be a different Beiderbeck, not the cable television billionaire.

"Well, no, I've never done television before," Jordan said. "But I'm sure I could learn."

Ted sat down hard on one of the armchairs.

"This Monday? I don't know if I can be there by Monday. I...." Jordan stopped abruptly and listened, her blue eyes sparkling. Ted watched as a dark flush of excitement crept over her cheeks. "That would be fine," she said. "I'll see you on Monday. Looking forward to it. Thanks for calling." She pressed a button on the wireless and set it on the coffee table wordlessly.

"What was that all about?" Ted asked.

"Looks like I'm moving to New York," Jordan said. "Jeffrey Beiderbeck just offered me an indecent amount of money to sign a contract with BTN. He said he wants me to co-host a new talk show to start, but then he has much bigger plans for me. He said I have what it takes to be the biggest star in the news business."

"New York?" Ted said.

"Did you hear what I said?" Jordan asked. "I'm going to be a big star in the news business. I don't have to go back to slaving away in the D.A.'s office in the hope of maybe someday being well-known enough to run for lieutenant governor."

"How did he know you weren't going to spend the rest of your life in jail?" Ted asked.

"He said one of his reporters got a tip from Huron's office. Apparently the entire network was under orders to keep him up-to-date on me."

"New York," Ted said dully.

Jordan sat on the edge of Ted's chair. "Why don't you move with me?" she asked. "You're in the advertising business. New York is perfect."

Ted shook his head. "I won't leave Flynn," he said. "And I can't move her out of state."

Jordan looked at him for a moment. "That's that, then," she said. She stood up and walked to the windows, staring out at a sky that was dull with the heavy summer haze. The ring of a wireless broke the silence. "I'll get it," Jordan said, taking a step toward the coffee table. "No, it's mine," Ted said. He lifted his wireless out of its belt clip. "Hello?" he answered.

"Ted, it's Dobson Howe. I have some very good news for you." Ted allowed Howe to tell him the news. "That's great," he said, when Howe had finished.

"That's all you have to say?" Howe said. "I thought you'd be more excited. Well, perhaps you need some time to let it sink in fully. I have to call Jordan and tell her."

"She's right here," Ted said. "Hang on." He handed the wireless to Jordan.

"Hello!" Jordan said brightly. "Is it official?"

"You already knew?" Howe asked. Ted could hear his voice booming from the little speaker all the way across the coffee table.

"I have my sources," Jordan smiled. "Is it official?"

"It's official. I just spoke to Huron personally. All charges dropped."

"They're not bringing any charges against you, I hope."

"No," Howe laughed. "I'll have to deal with the State Bar of California. But I think I can handle them."

"That's great," Jordan said. "Why don't you come over to Ted's house right now and let's celebrate. Bring Tiffany. We were just going to order in some dinner."

"Sounds like a great idea," Howe said.

Jordan gave Howe directions to Ted's house, clicked the wireless off and handed it back to Ted. He accepted it silently and clipped it back on his belt. "What's wrong?" Jordan asked. "I hope you don't mind that I invited them over."

"No," Ted said.

"Then what is it?"

"You're still upset about that incident with Julia, aren't you?" he asked. "It didn't mean anything, Jordan. I just didn't want her to be hurt. That's why I ran after her."

"Fine, Ted. Whatever you say."

"That's why you're leaving town, isn't it?"

Jordan looked at him, incredulous. "Ted, this is a great opportunity for me. It has nothing to do with you."

"You could get an offer in L.A.," he said. "You don't want one."

Jordan shook her head. "Of all the self-centered, egocentric things I've ever heard..." she began.

"I'm self-centered?" Ted said, raising his voice just slightly. "You're the one who has to be a TV star."

"As opposed to what?" Jordan demanded. "Permanent second-fiddle to your daughter?"

Ted couldn't believe he'd heard that. "Somebody once told me you were high-maintenance," he said.

"Who? Who said that?"

Ted shrugged. He picked up the TV remote from a table next to his armchair and turned on a baseball game.

"Okay," Jordan said in a chilly tone. "I'll go into the kitchen and get the take-out menus."

"Top drawer of the desk," Ted said.

"Fine," Jordan answered. She stormed across the room and up the stairs.

Ted's wireless and the telephone in the house rang at the same time. Ted answered the wireless. "Hello?" he said.

"Ted, James Dixon. Just called to say congratulations. You heard the news, right?"

"Hey, James, thanks for calling," Ted said warmly. "How'd you hear about it?"

"You're all over the news, pal."

"Yeah?" Ted picked up the remote control and surfed through the channels. All the news networks and two of the broadcast networks were covering the story. Two channels were showing pictures of him, three had pictures of him with Jordan, and one was doing a live interview with Dobson Howe. BTN was showing a clip of Jordan getting out of a car.

"How'd you like to sell me the Corvette?" James asked.

Ted laughed. "No," he said. "I guess I'll fly up and drive it back."

"Let me drive it to L.A.," James said. "I'll ride the Harley back."

"You've got yourself a deal," Ted said.

"Dad, Rocki's on the phone from the office," Flynn called from the top of the stairs.

"Okay, sweetheart, I'll pick it up," Ted said. "James? I've got to run. Thanks for calling."

"No problem," James said. "Say hi to Grandma for me."

Ted put the wireless down and picked up a cordless phone from the table next to his armchair. "Hello, Rocki, my love," he said, "Has the boss decided to come crawling back to me on his hands and knees?"

"You said it, I didn't," Rocki said. "Hang on." Thin-sounding Mozart played through the phone line. Ted's wireless rang. He held it to his free ear. "Hello?" he answered.

"Ted, Christina Ferragamo."

"Hi, Christina. How are you?"

"Great, just great. Listen, I can guarantee you an hour of prime time if you'll give me an exclusive first interview tomorrow night. What do you say? Don't talk to anybody else until after it airs and I'll give you the full hour. Prime time."

"I don't know," Ted said. "I think I've been on TV enough for one lifetime."

"Sorry, Ted." It was Rocki, back on the phone.

"Hang on, Rocki," he said. He put the phone down and returned to Christina on the wireless. "Thanks anyway, Christina," he said. "I've got to run." He clicked off and returned to Rocki. "Sorry about that," he said.

"That's okay," Rocki answered. "The boss wants to know if you can come in and see him tomorrow morning at ten."

"I'll be there," Ted said.

"Thank goodness," Rocki sighed. "I'll be so happy when everything's back to normal." She clicked off.

Ted fielded calls from friends and reporters for another fifteen minutes before he finally switched everything over to the message system. Just as he finished keying in the code, he heard the doorbell ring. "I'll get it," Jordan called from upstairs. Ted heard the voices of Howe and Tiffany at the front door. He walked over to the stairs.

"Come in," he called. Howe was holding Tiffany's hand as they came down the stairs into the living room, followed by Jordan. "Congratulations," Howe boomed.

"No, congratulations to you," Ted said. "You did it. And without much help from us, I'm afraid."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Howe rumbled.

"I would. Listen, I want to apologize for thinking, for not, you know, uh..."

"Oh, that's all right," Howe said with a wave of his hand. "I probably should have explained myself a little more clearly."

"Is this a private conversation?" Tiffany asked, "Or can anyone be confused?"

"Jordan and I thought," Ted began, then hesitated. "We weren't sure..."

"They thought I was going to sacrifice them to prove how unfair the justice system has become," Howe said with a smile. "They thought I was stirring up publicity and news coverage so that when they went off to jail, it would spur a groundswell to repeal the 37th Amendment and restore due process to the Constitution."

"Oh," Tiffany said. "Were you?"

"That was only the back-up plan," Howe said.

Ted looked up in alarm. "The back-up plan?" he repeated.

"There was always a pardon," Howe said.

"A pardon!"

"Ted, your fate was in the hands of public opinion," Howe said, his eyes fixed on Ted like rifle sights. "That's your only hope today to override an outrageous law. No judge could help you. Under the terms of the 37th Amendment, we live under mob rule."

"We certainly do not live under mob rule," Tiffany said. "We live under the laws made by freely-elected representatives."

"Same thing," Howe shrugged.

"Is pizza okay with everybody?" Jordan asked.

"Fine," Howe said.

"Fine," Tiffany said.

"Good," Jordan answered, "Because I already ordered it. It should be here in fifteen minutes."

Ted glanced up at Jordan, standing on the bottom step of the staircase, looking like a goddess. "Tell them the news," he said.

Jordan's smile was slightly forced. "I'm moving to New York," she said. "I've been offered a co-host job on a new talk show on BTN."

Tiffany yelped. "Jordan, that's wonderful! When did this happen?"

"Just a little while ago," Jordan said. "It starts in two weeks. I have to be there on Monday."

Dobson Howe smiled proudly. "Congratulations," he said. "I know you'll be very successful."

"Thanks," Jordan said. "I appreciate that." She threw a sideways glance at Ted, who missed it as he crossed the room to the window and stared sulkily at the buildings of Hollywood, so drab in the summer daylight.

Jordan looked down at her ivory sandals. "Well," she said. "As much as I hate to miss out on pizza, I think I'd better be going. I have an awful lot to do all of a sudden."

Tiffany rushed over to Jordan and gave her a big hug. "Good luck, sweetheart," she said.

"Thanks," Jordan said. Howe was right behind Tiffany. He took Jordan's hand and kissed it. "Congratulations again," he said.

"Thanks," Jordan smiled. Then she wrapped her arms around Howe. "Thanks for everything," she said. He hugged her warmly and kissed the top of her head.

Ted stood up. "I'll walk you to your car," he said tonelessly.

Jordan nodded, walked over to the coffee table to pick up her handbag and then headed back up the stairs. Ted followed her. Jordan opened the front door and stepped outside, where her zero-emissions two-door was parked in the shade of a tree that had dropped pale purple flower petals over its hood and roof. Ted walked up to the car and attempted to sweep the flowers off the metallic-beige paint. "These things stain," he said. "You'll want to get this to a car wash."

Jordan nodded. "I may keep my apartment," she said. "It's not like I'll never come back to L.A."

"That's true," Ted said, brightening a little. "A lot of these new shows get canceled pretty quickly."

Jordan glared at him. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," she said.

"But you said," Ted began, then stopped. Jordan wasn't coming back. She was saving herself the trouble of a hotel in case she was forced to visit.

Jordan kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks for everything," she said, in just the way he'd heard her say it to the kid who delivered lunch at her office. Then she opened the car door, squeezed in behind the wheel and started the engine, such as it was.

"When are you leaving?" Ted asked, holding the door open.

Jordan reached out for the door handle. "Right now," she said. She closed the door and drove off down the hill.

Ted stood for a moment in the empty parking space, listening to Jordan's car buzz away. Then he walked back inside.

"Ted, Casey just sent me the new poll numbers," Howe said when he saw him on the stairs. "You're more popular than the president."

"Thanks," Ted heard himself answer. He sat on the steps at the bottom of the staircase, his legs carelessly thrown forward.

"And 59 percent of Americans," Howe said with obvious pride, "now favor the repeal of the 37th Amendment, with 35 percent opposing and 6 percent not sure."

"So there's still hope," Tiffany said.

Howe ignored her. "I've got the state-by-state breakdown. Alabama, 55 percent in favor. Arizona, 49 percent; California, 60; Colorado, 72; Connecticut, 70; District of Columbia, 85; Florida, 31; I wonder why that's so low," Howe asked.

"A lot of senior citizens in Florida," Tiffany answered.

Howe looked at her pointedly. "Well, they should know better," he rumbled. He tapped a key on his wireless and scrolled through the numbers. "This looks very good," he said. "Very good."

The doorbell rang. "That's the pizza," Ted said, standing up. Howe was on his feet, reaching for his wallet. Ted waved him off and jogged up the stairs to the door. It was Royce.

"Oh, Ted," she said, throwing her arms around him. "I just heard." She hugged him fiercely, the kind of hug reserved for someone who had missed his connection to a plane that had crashed. Royce had tears in her eyes. Ted suddenly faced, for the first time, the magnitude of the risk he had taken.

"I was so worried about you," Royce said. "I tried to keep up a brave face for Flynn, but...." She hugged him again, pressing her face against his chest. Ted held her slender body tightly against him. He had almost gone to prison, he thought, perhaps for decades. The house would have been sold. His income would have been gone. Royce would have been left to raise Flynn alone. Had he been insane? He had risked all their futures for a woman who wouldn't even give up a cable TV talk show to be with him. Ted blinked and squinted slightly, as he did every morning when he opened the blinds on his bedroom window.

Royce looked up at him. "I'm so glad it's all over," she said.

Ted kissed the top of her head. "Come in," he said. "We just ordered some pizza."

"Oh," Royce said, pulling back but keeping her arms around Ted's waist. "Is Julia here?"

"Julia's gone," Ted said.

"Is Jordan here?"

Ted shook his head. "Jordan's gone, too."

Royce raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She followed Ted down the two flights of stairs to the living room.

"Dobson, Tiffany," Ted began, "I'd like you to meet Flynn's mom, Royce Eliot-Lee. Royce, I think you know Dobson Howe, and this is Tiffany Dixon. She runs a little hideout in Nevada."

Royce smiled a beautiful, warm smile. The teeth were enhanced but the warmth was genuine. "Nice to meet you both," she said.

Just then, Flynn's voice floated down from two levels up. "Dad!" she called. "Can I go to the Dodger game?"

"Sure, baby," Ted called back. "Why don't you come down and say hi to your mom?"

Flynn came flying down the stairs. "Mom!" she shouted, running into Royce's arms.

"Hi, honey," Royce said. She wrapped her daughter in a tight hug. "I can't wait for you to come and stay with me next week."

Flynn smiled broadly. "Can we go get our nails done?"

"Absolutely," Royce said. "First thing."

Flynn hugged her.

"Flynn, I'd like you to meet my friends Mr. Howe and Ms. Dixon," Ted said politely. "Dobson, Tiffany, this is our daughter, Flynn."

"Hello," Tiffany said.

"I believe we've spoken on the phone," Howe said. "It's very nice to meet you."

"Thank you," Flynn said. "It's nice to meet you, too." She turned to Ted. "Pearl and I want to go to the Dodger game tonight," she said.

"That's a great idea," Ted said. He took out his wallet and handed her some cash. "Have fun," he said. Flynn kissed him on the cheek, hugged Royce again, then raced up the stairs and out the front door.

"She's lovely," Tiffany said. "How old is she?"

"Twelve," Royce and Ted said together.

"And she's going to the Dodger game by herself?" Tiffany asked.

"No," Ted answered, "With her friend Pearl. They're inseparable."

"That's not what I meant," Tiffany said. "I meant, without an adult. Dodger Stadium isn't exactly around the corner."

"They pick up a bus on Hollywood Boulevard," Ted said. "Then I think it's two more buses and they're at the stadium. It's easy."

"That's still amazing to me," Tiffany said. "I know you take it for grantedand it's wonderful that you canbut I still can't get over it."

Ted was finding it difficult to pay attention. "Get over what?" he asked.

"How safe it is now," Tiffany said. "That two twelve-year-old girls can take three buses through the city by themselves at night and there's nothing to worry about. It's amazing. When I was her agethis was back in the late 80smy parents would never have let me take a bus by myself at night."

Ted nodded politely. "They would have been really worried about you, huh?"

"They would have been charged with felony child endangerment."

Royce looked a little startled. Ted fought to conceal his annoyance. "I'm sure you're exaggerating," he said.

"The city was just a sewer," Tiffany sighed. "You couldn't go anywhere. Well, that's not really true. You could go. But you drove your car directly to the parking lot, got out, locked everything up, and went straight inside. Then after the game or the concert or whatever you'd go straight back to the parking lotyou'd hear the chirps of everybody's car alarms being deactivatedyou'd get in your car and drive twenty or thirty or fifty miles back to the neighborhood where it was safe to raise your kids. That's if you could afford to live in a safe neighborhood. I couldn't stand it. I took my kids and moved to Nevada. And believe me, I wasn't the only one."

"It sounds horrible," Royce agreed.

"You're too young to remember," Tiffany said. "But if these two have their way, you may get a chance to see it for yourself."

"What do you mean?" Royce asked.

"They're trying to repeal the 37th Amendment," Tiffany said. "It was the 37th Amendment that made it possible for Californians to pass the laws they needed to make it so you could live in this city again."

"It was the 37th Amendment that made it possible for California to arrest and convict innocent people," Howe interjected. "A safe society is important, but that is too high a price."

"It is a high price," Tiffany answered, "but not as high as the price you pay for surrendering your cities to crime."

Royce leaned back in her chair, wide-eyed.

"People have the right to govern themselves," Tiffany continued, "without asking the federal courts for permission."

"People who are victimized by stupid state laws must have the federal courts as a last resort," Howe answered.

"Who is a federal judge to say a state's laws are stupid?" Tiffany demanded.

"Let's not fight," Ted said wearily.

"I never thought about this kind of stuff," Royce said.

"No time like the present," Tiffany said. "Think about this: who's in a better position to decide what kind of laws are needed to govern California? The people of California? Or any five out of nine justices on the U.S. Supreme Court?"

"Well, let me ask you this," Royce countered. "Suppose the people want a stupid, unfair law that's going to have terrible consequences far into the future? Who's going to tell them?"

Tiffany leaned forward. "Flynn will tell you," she said. "Eventually."

Royce looked startled again.

"I'm starving," Ted said. "Where's that pizza?" He picked up his wireless and keyed in a number. "This is Ted Braden," he said brusquely. "What happened to the order for 6505 Whitley?"

He was on hold for three minutes before the manager got on the line and explained that there had been a mix-up with the drivers and his pizzas were on the way to Highland and Pico, miles away in the opposite direction. Furious, Ted canceled the order and jabbed at the wireless to turn it off.

"I've got a better idea anyway," Howe said, taking his wireless out of his pocket. "Let's order dinner from Musso's. On me. I'll even pick it up."

"I'll come with you," Tiffany said.

"That would be delightful," Howe said. He keyed a number into the device as he escorted Tiffany toward the stairs. "I'll order for you," he told Ted and Royce. "I know what's really good there."

"Back shortly," Tiffany called. Ted heard the front door open and close.

"Freaky," Royce said. "They're like, both right."

"Mm-hmm," Ted agreed, without interest. He was watching the light from the lamp shimmer on Royce's silky straight hair. She had an exotic kind of beautyhigh cheekbones, almond-shaped dark eyeshe remembered the black silk dress she was wearing the night he met her, and the almost violently passionate affair that had lasted for two years before he tired of her temper and she tired of his complaints that she drank too much. Six months later he had been shocked to hear from a lawyer that she had given birth to a daughter and wanted him to take custody of her, which he had done without hesitation. Royce had partied nearly to death for another five years before finally getting sober at an expensive San Diego rehab facility, and she had stayed sober in the seven years since, much to his surprise. Now there was no tension between them, no pretense.

Royce looked at him and smiled, her expression soft. "I'm so glad this is all over," she said again. "The thought of you going to prison...." Her voice trailed off.

Ted thought about Jordan's car buzzing away down the hill after he had risked prison for her, and how he had dumped Julia after she risked prison for him. He wondered if love was a form of mental illness. He looked at Royce. He couldn't have done anything differently then, he thought. But now, he wondered.

"Let's get some air," Ted said, standing up. He took Royce's hand and led her down the stairs to the ballroom, where he opened the glass doors leading to the terraced yard. The heat of the day had lifted and it was a beautiful evening, clear and almost cool, the sky streaked with color. He held Royce's arm as they walked over the bumpy pathway. They sat on the edge of a dry stone channel that extended from an empty fountain.

"Are you ever going to get these things working?" Royce teased.

Ted smiled. "That's not the way to bet," he admitted.

"Doesn't matter," Royce said. "It's beautiful out here anyway."

Ted nodded. "Are you seeing anybody?" he asked.

Royce looked up at him in surprise. "No," she said slowly.

"Good." Ted was silent for a moment. "Let's get married," he said.

"Married!" Royce repeated. "Are you crazy? Nobody gets married."

Ted looked at her. "I want to," he said. "Let's get married. I'm tired of being in love. I want to get married."

"If there was any water in this thing, I'd push you into it," Royce said.

Ted smiled. "I didn't mean it that way. I just meant...." He left his sentence unfinished and kissed Royce, gently at first, then deeply. Her hair felt like cool satin as it slipped between his fingers. He felt her hands pressing against his chest, pushing him away. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"This is really uncomfortable," Royce said.

"I'm sorry," Ted said. He released her and wondered, at fifty, if he'd ever learn to understand women.

"Not you," Royce said. "This thing we're sitting on." She stood up and rubbed her tailbone. Then she looked at him and smiled mischievously. "That's so sweet, that you want to get married," she said, barely containing her laughter. "So old-fashioned. Not like you at all." She walked over to Ted and sat on his lap, resting her wrists on his shoulders. Ted felt himself blushing. "I guess that wasn't a proper proposal," he said. "Let me try again." He reached up and took Royce's hands. He looked into her eyes. "I have always loved you," he said simply. "Will you marry me?"

Royce smiled radiantly. "No," she said.

Ted looked around as if the lights had gone out. He dropped Royce's hands into her lap.

"Nobody gets married," Royce said, "Especially in California." She stood up and walked a few steps, turning to face the view of the city. The lights of Hollywood were just beginning to glimmer against the darkening sky. Royce watched the sunset in silence. It seemed to Ted that she stood there a very long time. Finally she turned and looked at him.

"I would consider moving in with you," she said. "But I don't want to get married and I'm not giving up my apartment. That way, if one of us decides we want our freedom back, it won't take a constitutional amendment." She extended her right hand. "Deal?" she asked.

Ted stood up, wrapped his arms around Royce and kissed her. "Deal," he said.

"Let's call Flynn on her wireless," Royce beamed. "I can't wait to tell her."

You're reading The 37th Amendment, a novel by Susan Shelley. Copyright 2002. All rights reserved. This material may not be republished, retransmitted, printed, copied or distributed in any manner, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the author. Permission is granted for publication of short excerpts in the context of a review or commentary, provided the material is appropriately credited.

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