To Brie or Not to Brie (7 page)

“Fine,” Grandmère conceded. “How are the costumes coming along?”

Pépère pushed through the swinging door. “
Mon amie
, please. It is Matthew and Meredith’s night. No more discussion about the play.”

Since Delilah had arrived at the house, Grandmère and she had talked nonstop about
the production.

Grandmère tsked. “It will be their night a week from Sunday. The play is imminent.”

Pépère huffed. “You should not have scheduled
Hamlet
for this time.”

“I could not change the calendar, Étienne. You know that.” Grandmère patted my grandfather’s
cheek and gave him a
not to worry
look. “It is only two nights. It will not infringe on their festivities.”

“Bah,” he said.

“Bah, yourself.” Unwilling to argue longer, Grandmère turned her gaze to me. “
Chérie,
will you put up a pot of coffee?” My grandmother was a whiz when it came to cooking,
but she couldn’t brew a decent cup of java no matter how many times we went over the
proportions.

“Hey, Charlotte.” Delilah’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “I saw Jacky walking with
Hugo Hunter today. What’s up with that?”

I glanced at Jordan, who shrugged
No comment
. At times he could be so cagey that it drove me insane.

“No, no, no,” my grandmother said. “No gossip.” She prodded Delilah out of the kitchen.
“We will need wigs.”

“
Impénitente
,” Pépère muttered as he followed them out.

I couldn’t disagree. My grandmother was incorrigible.

Before the swinging door closed, Rebecca hurried in. “How can I help?”

No matter what the occasion, Rebecca was invited. My grandparents hadn’t adopted her,
but they might as well have. She basked in their affection.

“Take the desserts to the table,” I said. Before washing the dishes, I had set a tray
of delectables on the counter. Though our family often had gatherings for no reason
at all, tonight we had come together to do yet one more tasting for the wedding.

“Jordan, have you tried the ice cream?” Rebecca asked. “
Tout de suite
.” She kissed her fingertips.

“You mean,
très doux
,” I said. “
Tout de suite
means ‘right away.’”

“Are you sure? I heard someone on
NCIS
say
tout de suite
.” When not working, Rebecca was a mystery reruns junkie, on television or on the
Internet. She loved the problem-solving aspect.

I grinned. “Whoever said it was making a joke.”

“Harrumph.”

“The tartlets look fabulous,” Jordan said. “Rebecca, did you have a hand in those?”

I could have kissed him full-on. He had a way of making a woman feel ultra-special.

“I did,” she said, her French mistake all but forgotten. “I suggested a dash of almond
flavoring.”

In addition to a cake, Meredith and Matthew wanted an assortment of finger-food-type
desserts. Rebecca and I had spent a good two hours putting the treats together. Mini
pumpkin cheesecakes, mascarpone fruit tarts, and the pièce de résistance, Brie blueberry
ice cream tucked into a white chocolate candy shell.

All chatter in the dining room stopped as Rebecca, Jordan, and I entered with the
goodies, and a chorus of “Ooh,” followed. A few months ago, Grandmère had redecorated
the dining room, removing the flocked paper and painting
the walls a luscious pearl color. The effect had made the space bright and conducive
to conversation.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” Meredith said, looking cheery in a peach-colored sundress
and a matching grosgrain ribbon that she had laced through her hair.

Matthew sat beside her, his hand wrapped around hers. “Bravo.”

“Let’s taste them first.” I had experimented with the recipes for a few of the items.
Though I liked the flavors, I wasn’t certain everyone would, the twins in particular.
“All are gluten-free,” I said to Clair.

“Even the tarts?” she asked. She was our sweet-tooth girl. Amy preferred salty foods.

“You bet.” Although I hadn’t come upon a gluten-free sourdough bread recipe that would
rival real sourdough, most other things I could make. Pie dough was one of the easiest.
If made with sweet rice flour and xanthan gum, the dough was pliable and cooked up
crisp. Sometimes I left out the gum and added an extra egg white. Weather conditions
made a big difference in the texture.

“Are you sure?” Clair said.

“Absolutely.” I served up individual plates, each set with a trio of the confections,
and said, “Dig in.”

Matthew leaned over as I took my seat beside him. “I heard about my ex-wife’s outburst
at Sew Inspired Quilt Shoppe. I’m shocked she hasn’t made a surprise appearance tonight.”

I smirked. “She wouldn’t dare. No matter how bad she is, she still wants Grandmère’s
approval. An out-of-sorts mayor can make things difficult for a small business owner.”

Grandmère, who was positioned at the head of the table, sat taller. “Did I hear my
name mentioned?” Octavia said I had the memory of an elephant; my grandmother had
elephant ears.

“No,” I said, putting an end to that discussion. Talking
about Sylvie would not enhance the evening’s festivities. “Enjoy.”

“Étienne, eat.” Grandmère fluttered her hand at my grandfather. He hadn’t taken a
bite of the desserts, and he adored ice cream. He visited the Igloo Ice Cream Parlor
at least once a week. He was the one who had talked me into collaborating with Hugo
on a recipe.

“Forgive me,
mon amie,
but I am not hungry.” Pépère rose from his chair. He teetered.

I reached out to steady him. “Are you all right? You look a little pale.”

A man of staunch character, he did not suffer people fussing over him. He waved me
off. “I am fine,
chérie.
I worked too long in the garage. It is the heat.” For fun, my grandfather built birdhouses.
Many of his creations adorned his yard as well as mine. “Or perhaps it is all this
talk about the food. My waistline”—he patted his bulging stomach—“is not getting smaller,
no matter how hard I try.”

“You know what it takes,” Grandmère said.

“
Oui, mon amie.
Less food and an extra dose of exercise.” Pépère rolled his eyes at her, though I
spotted the gleam in them. My grandmother and he were the most adorable couple I knew.
They loved each other unconditionally. I hoped that Jordan and I, after forty years,
would be as devoted.

As my grandfather squeezed my grandmother’s hand, a shriek cut the air. It wasn’t
the cat. Matthew and the twins had taken Rags and Rocket home before we sat down to
dinner. I shot a look at Jordan. His sister, Jacky, lived next door.

Jordan leaped to his feet and bolted from the room.

I hurried after him but pivoted at the door and pointed at the twins. “You stay here.”

“Aww,” they chimed.

“Matthew, Meredith.”

“On it,” they said as a team.

With my heart doing a jig, I tore out the kitchen and down the driveway.

Jordan passed through a hole in the boxwood hedge that created a border between properties.
Jacky raced to him. She cradled Cecily in her left arm. Using her right, she painted
a story.

I sidled through the hedge and joined them.

Thick hair flopping, Hugo sprinted to us carrying a flashlight in his hand. He stopped,
out of breath, a foot behind Jacky. “No one’s lurking in the bushes,” he said.

“You’re sure?” Jordan asked.

“I’m not crazy. I saw someone.” Jacky’s breath was jagged, her eyes pinpoints of fear.
“I think…I’m not sure…I think it was
him
.”

“Him, who?” Hugo asked.

Jacky’s gaze flew from Jordan to me and back to her brother.

Jordan said, “Hugo, this is a private family matter.”

Hugo straightened his shoulders. “Whatever the secret is, I should know it, too. I’m
in love with Jacky.”

“You’re what?” Jacky gaped.

Hugo squeezed her shoulder and let his hand rest there. “You heard me.”

He certainly was impulsive. Could he know that he was in love in three weeks’ time?
Yes, I reminded myself. I had fallen hard for Jordan in less time than that. Perhaps
a minute. And yet something about Hugo made me wary. I recalled what Rebecca had said
in the shop. He was a man of mystery. Like Houdini. Disappearing from town and reappearing
whenever it suited him. Had he moved to Providence with some ulterior motive? He had
arrived not long after Jacky had moved here. Had her husband sent Hugo to track down
Jacky and keep an eye on her? I pushed that notion away, having once before thought
Jacky was being stalked and the guy turned out to be nothing more than a man hired
to work at the honeybee farm.

I scanned the shadows at Jacky’s house. Was someone waiting for an opportunity to
strike when all of us weren’t hovering about? I didn’t spot a hint of movement.

“Don’t worry,” Hugo said. “I can see in your eyes that you love me, too. You don’t
have to say the words back to me. I’m a patient man.”

Why did his words sound rehearsed?

“I repeat,” Hugo pressed, “him who?”

“My husband,” Jacky said.

“You’re married?”

“I was…I am…It’s too hard to explain.”

The notion that Jacky’s husband might be skulking about made my heart pound. The man
had a gun. He had never used it on Jacky, but he had threatened her with it.

“Okay,” Hugo said. “You’ll tell me at another time. Right now, breathe and tell us
what you think you saw.” Hugo inhaled and swirled his hand in front of his chest,
directing Jacky to do the same. He gazed at her with his mesmerizing cobalt eyes,
and she obeyed. How could she resist? I was working hard to keep myself in check.

“I thought I was seeing things earlier in the day,” Jacky said. “I went out for a
walk, pushing Cecily in the stroller. There were two men hanging outside the bookshop.
They were arguing. One of them reminded me of Giacomo—my husband—but he had lost so
much weight.”

I flinched. Could she be referring to one of the tourists that had come into the shop
earlier? The one Rebecca had said had a wattle? The one Anabelle had called hunky?

“I didn’t want to stare. I made a U-turn. They didn’t see me,” Jacky went on. “But
then I was in Fromagerie Bessette, and I overheard you, Charlotte, talking about a
guy with bad skin, and I knew you meant Vinnie.”

“Giacomo’s jerk of a brother,” Jordan explained.

As if Giacomo, a wife abuser, wasn’t jerk enough. If only I had put two and two together,
I could have alerted
Jacky. I glanced again at the perimeter of her house. I didn’t see any movement. No
flash of metal.

Jacky gripped Jordan’s hand. “My nightmare is coming true, Jordan. He’s found me.
I’ve got to get out of town. He’ll take Cecily.”

“Wait a sec,” Hugo said. “You told me Cecily’s father’s name was William.”

“It is.
Was
. It’s a long story. See, I was leaving Giacomo. William was my lover. He died in
a car accident. A drunk driver hit him. He…that’s not what’s important,” Jacky cried.
“Giacomo will think she’s his, don’t you see?”

“Because you’re still married.”

“In name only.” Jacky turned to Jordan. “What will I do?”

Jordan’s jaw ticked with tension. “I’ll stay with you.”

“No, I will,” Hugo said, his voice commanding. “I’m trained in combat.”

When Jacky grew calm and almost giddy with relief that her estranged husband was nowhere
in the vicinity, she told Jordan to leave her in Hugo’s care. Not one to hover, Jordan
agreed. We finished cleaning up after the meal at my grandparents’ house, and a short
while later, headed to Jordan’s farm.

To shake off tension, we decided to take a walk. The air felt warmer than usual for
October. A harvest moon cast a shimmering golden glow on the hills. As we strolled
along the road, our hands entwined, a breath of breeze caressed our faces, and I worked
hard to make my mind relax. So much was going on in my life, with the wedding and
the twins moving out. Jacky’s distress had magnified everything for me.

I broke the silence. “What do you think about Jacky dating Hugo?”

“Nothing to think.”

“What about the fact that he was trained in combat? Doesn’t that worry you?”

“No. It probably means he served in the army.” Jordan turned to me. “I don’t want
to talk about Jacky anymore tonight. Or Hugo. Or anybody else. I just want to talk
about us.” He gazed at me with those bedroom eyes. “I want you to move in with me.”

I gulped. I wasn’t a prude. I had stayed the night with him and intended to stay again
tonight, but move in? “Before we get married?”

He offered a lopsided grin. “Ohio is advanced enough to see that we’re committed,
heart and soul. We’ll get that legal certificate when you finally pick a wedding date.”
He ran a knuckle along my jawline. “C’mon, say yes.”

“What will I do with my house?”

“We’ll put it on the market. There are lots of people, like Hugo, moving into town.
Your grandmother’s
Come to Providence for the Good Life
campaign is working. Sales are on the rise.”