Love Is Lovelier by Jean Brashear

sun. “The rest, as they say, is history. I didn’t see how any bank was ever gonna loan me one thin dime, but turns out that Mr. William was going to be the bank, with extra generous terms.” She looked at him, then Anne. “No finer gentleman in New Orleans than this one, I promise you that. He gave my whole family a chance at a future.” She laughed. “And now, I think I’ve just about embarrassed the daylights out of this man, so you two get on back to your table. I’m makin’ you a special dessert.”
    “Oh, Celia, that’s not necessary.” She brushed one palm over the curve of her hip, just where William would like to place his own hand. “I’ve eaten so much already.”
    “Yes, it surely is. I always fix somethin’ special for Mr. William, and it would be an honor to serve Remy Marchand’s wife.”
    Anne looked distinctly uncomfortable then. Was it the reminder of Remy or—
    He wasn’t sure, but suddenly it hit him that perhaps, given the threat to her health, she had dietary restrictions he should have thought about. “Perhaps Anne and I could share a portion, Celia?”
    Anne’s expression thanked him for the save. “That would be perfect.”
    He bent past her to press a kiss to Celia’s weathered cheek, glistening with sweat. “We’ll just get out of your way now. Thank you for yet another amazing meal.”
    Celia’s face glowed with pleasure. “I’d feed you every day and not make a dent in what I owe you. You bring this fine lady back soon, you hear me?”
    “I will do my very best.” Tendering the hand that had been itching to touch Anne, he kept it light on the small of her back as he ushered her back to their table.
    She smiled up at him, and he bent closer to hear her words over the chatter and clink of forks and glasses and plates. “You fraud,” she said.
    Her face was near enough that he could see the softness of her skin, the fine lines of a life in which he’d had no part. Joys and sorrows, passion and loneliness, exasperation, anger…he wanted to see beneath the masks Anne utilized to keep her thoughts private, her needs buried, her longings at bay.
    All the sounds retreated, leaving them inside a shell of silence in which he could feel her breath on him, spiced from the food they’d shared, her eyes wide and open to him as never before. It came to him then that though Anne Marchand was toughened by life and able to withstand its storms and demands, there was within her a fine, gentle creature that had known fear, had learned to guard itself in order to be strong for others.
    In this moment, he glimpsed that creature, fragile as a butterfly’s wing, fluttering on the currents of an insatiable curiosity about people and a tender regard for their vulnerabilities, understood precisely because she had soft places of her own.
    Within William rose a determination to shield her, to do whatever was required to protect the gentle mysteries of Anne Marchand.
    And to give her more chances to laugh and be free of her worries. He would offer to safeguard her past the current crises and usher her into a new life, one where he could show her new puzzles to solve, share with her the joy of exploring a wide world for which she had such a thirst. What good was all the money he’d amassed if he couldn’t put it in service of the woman he—
    “William?” Questions circled in her eyes.
    But he was still caught with one foot on the cliff-edge of a startling new vision, and he didn’t answer quickly.
    Loved.
    Could it be that he loved Anne Marchand?
    He hadn’t thought this day would ever come, yet he couldn’t help grinning with the sheer, crazy wonder of it.
    “Are you all right?” she asked, and already she was closing in, becoming the person who was strong and alone, who watched over others.
    He pressed that hand on her back and brought her nearer. Traced her hairline with a finger that wasn’t quite steady. Remembered, just in time, that they were in the center of a