after you
humiliated me in front of the whole town by marrying Estelle.
Everyone knew we were engaged.” Cecile spoke as though these were
events that had only happened in the past few weeks.
Henry gave a snort of derision. “How long
will you try to milk that for sympathy? Silly woman.”
“You never stopped loving Estelle. Even
after–”
“Enough!” Henry roared. He stood over her
with a look of dark fury, both fists raised. “This family has
prospered because of my hard work. No one, Estelle, no one, will
threaten everything I’ve built.”
Cecile looked defeated as tears rolled down
her cheeks. “You called me by her name again.”
Henry looked shaken and pale. He pulled a
hand over his face. “You’re mistaken.”
“You did.” Cecile stared ahead bleakly.
Henry poured himself a generous serving of
Crown Royal. “Will you get off my back?” His hand trembled when he
lifted the glass. “Just leave me alone.”
“Yes, I’ll keep quiet, as I’ve done all these
years.” She heaved a sigh. “Habit is hard to break.”
“Your taste for the good life is the only
habit you haven’t wanted to break,” Henry shot back.
Cecile wiped her eyes with a tissue as she
watched him take a sip from the glass. “You’ll kill yourself
drinking and smoking, Henry. The doctor has warned you.”
“Don’t get your hopes up, woman. I’ll live a
few years longer. And make the Dalcours pay, too.” Henry wore a
stony look of determination.
* * *
Simon straightened the items on his desk for
the third time. He smoothed down his hair. Nine forty-five. She
would be there any minute. What is up with you? Simon forced his
hand away from tugging at his shirt collar. He tried to convince
himself that, like any other business meeting, he just wanted to
make the right impression.
“Here are the beignets.” Nola, his secretary,
came in with a small tray. “Mr. Auzenne just dropped them off from
the bakery. Must be a real special client,” she added, pointing to
the fresh flowers in a vase on the credenza.
“Every potential customer is special, Nola.”
Simon took the tray from her and set it down next to the coffee
pot.
“Uh-huh,” she replied. “And this office
hasn’t been so clean in a l-long time.”
“You know I clean this place up at
least–”
“Once a year, I know.” Nola laughed. “The
janitorial crew just sorta dust any tiny space not covered with
paper.”
Simon faced her with his arms crossed. “You
know I don’t like anybody moving my things but me.”
Nola held up a palm. “Hey, fine by me. I’m
here to type, do data entry and organize project schedules. If you
don’t mind operating in a landfill, who am I to argue?”
“Nola, you have the most irritating habit
of–”
“Telling it like it ‘tis.” Nola let out
another laugh in her deep contralto. “I know, boss man.” She gave
him an affectionate pat on the arm and left.
“And of not letting me finish a sentence,”
Simon called after her in a peevish tone. “Mouthy woman!” He looked
at the digital clock on the credenza. His hand was still brushing
his hair back when Nola came in again.
“Now I get it,” she said with a wink. “Yep,
you look just fine.”
“What are you talking about?”
His assistant wore a mischievous half-smile.
“Miss Raenette Dalcour is here to see you.”
“Fine.” Simon forced a neutral tone to his
voice. He went past Nola, standing in the open doorway, to the
outer office. “Good morning, Ms. Dalcour. How are you?”
Rae took his hand with a cautious expression
on her face. She wore only a little lipstick. Her hair, worn lose,
had thick waves from the braids she’d worn before. Two small,
silver combs pinned it back from her face. The sleeveless, denim
shirt and white jeans were fitting without being tight. Simon held
his breath a moment when her soft skin brushed his.
“Morning,” said Rae, following him into his
office. She waved away his offer of fluffy
humiliated me in front of the whole town by marrying Estelle.
Everyone knew we were engaged.” Cecile spoke as though these were
events that had only happened in the past few weeks.
Henry gave a snort of derision. “How long
will you try to milk that for sympathy? Silly woman.”
“You never stopped loving Estelle. Even
after–”
“Enough!” Henry roared. He stood over her
with a look of dark fury, both fists raised. “This family has
prospered because of my hard work. No one, Estelle, no one, will
threaten everything I’ve built.”
Cecile looked defeated as tears rolled down
her cheeks. “You called me by her name again.”
Henry looked shaken and pale. He pulled a
hand over his face. “You’re mistaken.”
“You did.” Cecile stared ahead bleakly.
Henry poured himself a generous serving of
Crown Royal. “Will you get off my back?” His hand trembled when he
lifted the glass. “Just leave me alone.”
“Yes, I’ll keep quiet, as I’ve done all these
years.” She heaved a sigh. “Habit is hard to break.”
“Your taste for the good life is the only
habit you haven’t wanted to break,” Henry shot back.
Cecile wiped her eyes with a tissue as she
watched him take a sip from the glass. “You’ll kill yourself
drinking and smoking, Henry. The doctor has warned you.”
“Don’t get your hopes up, woman. I’ll live a
few years longer. And make the Dalcours pay, too.” Henry wore a
stony look of determination.
* * *
Simon straightened the items on his desk for
the third time. He smoothed down his hair. Nine forty-five. She
would be there any minute. What is up with you? Simon forced his
hand away from tugging at his shirt collar. He tried to convince
himself that, like any other business meeting, he just wanted to
make the right impression.
“Here are the beignets.” Nola, his secretary,
came in with a small tray. “Mr. Auzenne just dropped them off from
the bakery. Must be a real special client,” she added, pointing to
the fresh flowers in a vase on the credenza.
“Every potential customer is special, Nola.”
Simon took the tray from her and set it down next to the coffee
pot.
“Uh-huh,” she replied. “And this office
hasn’t been so clean in a l-long time.”
“You know I clean this place up at
least–”
“Once a year, I know.” Nola laughed. “The
janitorial crew just sorta dust any tiny space not covered with
paper.”
Simon faced her with his arms crossed. “You
know I don’t like anybody moving my things but me.”
Nola held up a palm. “Hey, fine by me. I’m
here to type, do data entry and organize project schedules. If you
don’t mind operating in a landfill, who am I to argue?”
“Nola, you have the most irritating habit
of–”
“Telling it like it ‘tis.” Nola let out
another laugh in her deep contralto. “I know, boss man.” She gave
him an affectionate pat on the arm and left.
“And of not letting me finish a sentence,”
Simon called after her in a peevish tone. “Mouthy woman!” He looked
at the digital clock on the credenza. His hand was still brushing
his hair back when Nola came in again.
“Now I get it,” she said with a wink. “Yep,
you look just fine.”
“What are you talking about?”
His assistant wore a mischievous half-smile.
“Miss Raenette Dalcour is here to see you.”
“Fine.” Simon forced a neutral tone to his
voice. He went past Nola, standing in the open doorway, to the
outer office. “Good morning, Ms. Dalcour. How are you?”
Rae took his hand with a cautious expression
on her face. She wore only a little lipstick. Her hair, worn lose,
had thick waves from the braids she’d worn before. Two small,
silver combs pinned it back from her face. The sleeveless, denim
shirt and white jeans were fitting without being tight. Simon held
his breath a moment when her soft skin brushed his.
“Morning,” said Rae, following him into his
office. She waved away his offer of fluffy
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