Listen To Your Heart (14 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Listen To Your Heart
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“Of course I understand. Listen, let's make some coffee for you before we start to talk business. Your mother and the aunts came to New York last week. They aren't happy. They were doubly unhappy when I told them you were unavailable. The cornmeal plant will be closed the first of June.”
“No, we're not closing it. We're going to sell it and split the profits with the workers. That will take them past retirement. No one is going to get shafted. I'm working on something for my mother that I think will make her happy. It's just a matter of time.”
“Are you listening to yourself, Paul? Who in the hell in their right mind would buy that archaic company? What kind of money are you talking about?”
“Me. I'm going to buy it. No one has to know that but you and me. Whatever it takes to do this is what I'll pay. You're in charge. Just don't leave a paper trail, okay?”
“You're talking some big bucks here, Paul.”
“Yeah, I know. I'll sell this apartment, my stock, my entire portfolio. The whole ball of wax. If I have to, I'll sell the house in New Orleans. As I said, whatever it takes. How upset was my mother?”
“Did you ever see smoke coming out of someone's ears? She was breathing fire. But I had this weird feeling it was all an act, Paul. I think it was for the benefit of the aunts, who, by the way, didn't say boo.”
“Did she make her usual threats?”
“No. I was prepared for anything she might throw at me. She gave up on that company a long time ago. I could tell. She goes through the motions, and that's it. It's a way of life. She knows it's operating in the red. I also told her it wasn't negotiable. Very kindly of course. I think I'd feel a lot better if you told me what your game plan is in regard to your mother.”
Paul told him. “If we can find my niece and come to terms with my brother-in-law, I'm hoping she'll finally be happy and she won't begrudge my leaving. Maybe I'm fooling myself. It's the best I can do.”
“Are you having any luck, finding any leads that look like they might pan out?”
“Right now they're looking up birth certificates. The detective seems to think my niece Nancy might have married and had children. He's trying to track her that way. You know, maiden names and all that. He seems hopeful, so that makes me hopeful. We'll find her—it's just a matter of when. I'm hoping for Mother's Day.”
“I hope it works out. You ready to get down to work?”
“I will be as soon as we order dinner.”
“Then let's get to it.”
“Where are you going, Marie?” the aunts asked in unison.
“To the
jardin.
I need to think.”
“Chère, are you going to think about
premier-né
?”
“My firstborn? No, June is gone. I gave up hope of ever seeing my granddaughter again.
Jamais
.”
“Never ever is a very long time,” the aunts said with one voice.
“Yes, it is. I need to sit quietly and think about my son,
homme de consequence.
”
“If Paul is such a man of importance, then why is he closing the plant?” the aunts questioned.
“Because it is losing tons of money. It is a business decision. It must be. We can do nothing about it. Somehow, some way, he will make things right. I feel it here,” Marie said, thumping her chest.
“Then why did we go traipsing into New York? We missed our programs for two days.”
“We went because it was expected. It was the right thing to do. I voiced our objections. It no longer matters. Go, make some lemonade or sweet tea. I'll be in in a little while.”
Marie knew they were watching her from the kitchen window, so she turned her chair around so they wouldn't see her tears. How was it that she was coming to the end of her life and was so bitterly unhappy? She had hoped against hope that Paul would be in the corporate offices when she got there. She'd had a speech all rehearsed—a careful speech in which she bared her soul and asked for forgiveness. For years now she had fought him tooth and nail for the cornmeal plant because it was the only communication they had. She could vent her anger at herself and him as well. All surface words that never got to the depth of the problem.
How could I have been so cruel, so stupid, to turn my back on my only son?
A boy who didn't understand. A young man who even today didn't understand what it meant to lose two daughters. She wondered what it would feel like to have her son throw his arms around her. To hear him say he loved her and mean the words. How wonderful that would be. She didn't deserve those things. In her heart and in her soul she knew those things would never happen. She cried softly into a scented lace handkerchief, her shoulders shaking with her grief.
Inside, the aunts huddled and whispered like magpies. Should they go to the
jardin
or should they stay inside and pretend they didn't know their beloved sister was crying her heart out? They decided to wait and watch because it was all they could do.
 
Josie's heart thudded and thumped as she listened to Paul Brouillette's message. The nerve! The unmitigated gall!
“That must have been some message,” Kitty said. “You look like a scalded cat. In case you're interested, your hair is standing on end. Did someone cancel, or is it a monster party we can't handle? By the way, the new girl is working out great. Are you going to tell me who it was?”
“It was . . .” Josie sputtered. “It was
him!”
Kitty clucked her tongue. “Him? That could be anyone, Josie. Do you mean Jack Emery, the diplomat, that screwball who was a race car driver or
the him?”
“That's the one! Him!” Josie fiddled with the fringe on the place mats, her eyes wild. “He called, offered no explanations. Said he hoped Zip was okay and he would like to take me to dinner tomorrow night. It was a flat-out message.”
Tongue in cheek, Kitty said, “Well that certainly explains why you look like such a wild woman. Guess you aren't going, huh?”
“Are you out of your mind? Of course I'm not going. Who does he think he is?”
Kitty giggled.
“Homme d'a f faires
and
homme de consequence.
”
Josie continued to pick at the fringe on the place mat. Her foot tapped the tile floor impatiently. “So he's a businessman and a man of supposed importance. So what!”
“You know you're going, so stop fussing. Let him wine and dine you and then tell him off. Tell him to take his dog with him. I'm tired of cleaning up his big poops. What are you going to wear?”
“Since I'm not going, I don't have to worry about that. Aren't you supposed to be loading the van or something?” Josie asked with an edge to her voice.
Kitty reached for the place mat and smoothed it out on the table. “I did. We have help now, you know. We're ready to go. I came in to get you since it's your turn to serve tonight.”
“What did you make?”
“Snails and mugbugs.”
“That's nice. Okay, I'm ready. I locked the dogs upstairs in the spare room.”
“Is Jack Emery coming by later?”
“No, Jack Emery is not coming by later,” Josie snapped. “What did you make again?”
“Fried quail eggs with pecan relish, crawfish stuffed pork chops with crawfish Bordelaise sauce, caramelized sweet potatoes and spinach coulis, banana cream pie and chocolate truffles.”
“Interesting. I hope the bill is high.”
“Sky-high. You were supposed to write it up, Josie. Did you do it?”
“If I was supposed to do it, then I did it. Stop being so grouchy, Kitty.”
“I used to do crap like that when I was falling in love with Harry. I did all kinds of dumb things like forgetting to write up the bills, forgetting to do this or that, leaving out a key ingredient, etc., etc. So have you decided what you're going to wear?” Kitty giggled.
“The lemon yellow linen dress with my straw hat. The one with the rainbow-colored belt that matches my sandals.”
“Good choice, Josie. Real good. Which perfume?”
“The sinful, decadent one.”
“Way to go, girl! Make him lust after you. We have a whole batch of fresh mangos at home!”
“Save me two, okay?”
“You got it.”
Jack Emery tossed his briefcase and jacket on the sofa. He headed straight for the kitchen, where he popped open a bottle of Corona beer. The phone rang just as he took his first swig.
“Jesus, don't tell me it's Paul Brouillette in the flesh. Where in hell have you been, you son of a gun? Do you have any idea what you put me through with that disappearing act? What the hell is going on?”
“I'm ready to sign on with you. I'm a free agent. I'll be home tomorrow afternoon. How's Zip?”
“How the hell should I know how your dog is? Fat with big feet and wild hair? I'm gonna get you for that one. Your lady friend has Zip. He rammed through the door when I went to get him. I had to buy a new screen door. I heard you had to go that route yourself. I took her to dinner. Let me be the first to tell you that you are not on the lady's top ten list. I think she more or less hates your guts right now. You got some major sucking up to do, buddy.” He paused. “You really coming aboard, Paul?”
“Yeah, I am. Do I need to duck when I go over there?”
“Full body armor might do it,” Jack guffawed. “By the way, we went to see Butterfunck. You might take her there again. It's just a suggestion. She does like to hoot and holler!” He stared at the pinging phone and laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks.
Jack swigged from his beer bottle. Hot damn, the big Cajun was finally seeing the light and coming aboard. That meant more free time, more vacations, and his best friend working right alongside of him. It didn't get much better than that. “I think, Miss Josie Dupré, you had something to do with all of this, and I do sincerely thank you.”
 
Dressed in a custom-tailored suit, a pristine white shirt, and a designer tie, his hair slicked back, Jack Emery led his entourage into the New Orleans Airport. “You guys got it right now? The minute we see him you start playing ‘When the Saints Go Marching In,' the girls throw the Mardi Gras beads, the photographer shoots, and you,” he said, pointing to a scantily clad model, “hold up the champagne and your pals hold the wineglasses. We can drink it in the three stretch limos on the way to the office. Everybody set? You all know what he looks like, so let's get ready. Remember now, we parade out of here like we own the place, and for today we do. Sort of. Just keep playing ‘Saints' until we get to the limos. This guy is going to be so dumbfounded he won't be able to utter a word,” Jack said, smacking his hands together gleefully. When it came to Paul, it was always one-upmanship. He could hardly wait to find out how his buddy would retaliate. Whatever he did, it would be good.
“Okay, here come the passengers. There he is! Hit it, guys!”

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