Star Promise (14 page)

Jean-Luc gazed at his still-wrapped sandwich. “My son has the potential to be a brilliant attorney,” he told it, “but he’s unfocused at the moment.”

That’s because his heart wasn’t in it. It annoyed me that he couldn’t see it.

He unwrapped his lunch and set it in front of him. “I want you to encourage him more,” he demanded.

“Why would I ever do that, Jean-Luc?” I asked, appalled. “A career in law isn’t for him.”

“Nonsense,” he barked. “His Ivy League education suggests otherwise.”

I took a bite of my sandwich so I didn’t have to reply. I had nothing remotely pleasant to say. The king didn’t speak either, which made for an uncomfortable minute of silence.

“What more do you want from him?” I asked finally. “He gives you eighty-hour weeks all the time, which you never acknowledge. He more than makes up for any time he takes off.”

“More than his presence is required, Charli,” he replied. “He used to have dedication for his craft.”

Working with wood was his craft. Law was his profession. How sad that his own father didn’t recognise the difference.

“What do you want me to do, exactly?”

Jean-Luc paused before speaking – a sure-fire sign that his reply would be ugly. “Help him find direction again. He could return to study,” he suggested. “Perhaps gain his masters degree.”

The sound out of my mouth was almost a growl. “Do you know him at all?” I asked roughly. “Adam would never do that, never.”

“I will not sit back and let him throw his career away, Charli.” He hissed the words with forced restraint. “I am his father. It would be remiss of me to do that.”

“Carry on, then,” I shot back. “Tighten your hold and continue squeezing the life out of him.”

I’d been holding my own until that point, but in one of the hardest blows he’d ever dished out, Jean-Luc called me an insolent, selfish witch. “Never before have I dealt with anyone as infuriating as you,” he added exasperatedly. “Why must you continue to make things difficult?”

I probably looked calm, but in my mind I’d already thrown my sandwich at him. “All I’ve ever done is love your son,” I replied. “Why can’t you do the same?”

My harsh question hung between us with the weight of a brick. I took a sip of water I didn’t need to stop myself saying anything more. Jean-Luc busied himself by picking apart his sandwich.

“I loathe cucumber,” he finally volunteered, dropping a slice on his napkin. “When I started courting my wife, she worked at a cinema in London called the Odeon. Every day at one o’clock I’d meet her for lunch in the square. And every day she’d pack vile cucumber sandwiches.” I managed a half smile, too beaten down to offer anything more. “I was trying so hard to woo her that I never let on that I hated them. We’d been married twenty years before I finally confessed.”

“What were you doing in London?” I asked.

For the first time all day, he smiled. “Studying. I attended King’s College,” he explained. “I’d only been there a few weeks when I met Fi.”

I liked hearing him shorten her name. It hinted toward a much kinder man.

“She was lovely,” he continued. “Truly beautiful.”

“She still is,” I muttered.

His smile broadened. “I’m well aware of my good fortune in the romance stakes, Charli.”

Fiona might’ve always been beautiful, but she hadn’t always been high society. “You could’ve married anyone you wanted. Why did you choose Fiona?”

My question was so outrageously ballsy that I expected him to order me to mind my business. But he didn’t.

“Because I adored her,” he replied. “And thirty-two years later, I still adore her.”

“True love always prevails,” I mumbled.

“That’s it?” he asked. “You’re not going to give me a tale of magic to accompany my answer?”

I looked straight at him. “Magic is wasted on the non-believers.”

His laugh echoed across the gallery floor. “Eat your lunch, Charlotte,” he told me. “I’ve had enough nonsense for one day.”

The morning hadn’t panned out the way I hoped it would, but the rest of the day did. Less than half an hour after Charli left my office, I packed up my desk and bailed. The afternoon was mine, and I spent it working on Bente’s drawers. By the time Charli arrived home, it was painted and dry to the touch. The pink paint was garish, but the finish was perfect.

“You’re a genius, Boy Wonder,” Charli declared. No one had the art of ego-boosting praise mastered as well as my wife.

“Thank you.” I kissed her cheek. “Where’s my kid?”

“Having dinner with her grandparents.”

“Why?”

“Funny story,” she quipped, patting my chest. “Your father came to see me at work today.”

“Looking for me?”

“Of course.”

“And?”

“And, long story short, he suggested that Bridget spend the evening with them,” she replied. “So I could use the time alone with you to find out why you’ve become such a flake at work.”

I cringed, imagining how the conversation would’ve gone down. “Was he awful to you?”

“Not too bad – He brought me lunch.”

I apologised to her, but cowardly made light of the reason why. “I bailed after you left,” I explained. “Spent the afternoon playing at home instead of working.”

Her focus remained on the chest of pink drawers. “So I see.”

“Are you mad?”

“No.” She twisted in my arms to look at me. “I just want to understand what’s going on. If you’re unhappy at work, quit. I don’t understand why you put yourself through it.”

Neither did I. Rebellion was ingrained in Charli. It flowed through her veins like blood. Acts of mutiny only struck me in short bursts. Most of the time I was content to go through the motions of pretending to enjoy the job I’d spent years studying to do. On days when I couldn’t, I’d flake, which was confusing to everyone.

“I just needed the day.” My answer wasn’t fair considering she’d probably been through an interrogation over lunch with my father. He would’ve demanded information that she couldn’t give him. “There’s nothing more to it.”

“Nothing to do with this morning?” she hinted.

“No, of course not.” I brushed the back of my hand across her cheek. “Is that what you’ve been worried about?”

“I know you’re disappointed,” she said seriously.

“Maybe a little,” I conceded, smiling. “But I was disappointed long before that.”

“Why?” she asked in a small voice.

“For so many reasons, Charlotte.” I spun her around and pulled her back against me. “Bridget polished off the last of the milk this morning. That cut me to the quick.” I leaned in and murmured against her ear. “And the queue at Starbucks on the way to work was horrendous – really disappointing.”

When she giggled, she trembled against me. “You’ve been huffing too many paint fumes,” she teased.

“Possibly,” I agreed, kissing the side of her neck. “Maybe I need to lie down for a while.”

Now that the drawers were finished, Charli understandably wanted them gone. I called Colin the delivery guy and arranged to have them sent to Ryan – at seven in the morning just to be a jerk.

I expected a scathing phone call. What I got instead was a short but heartfelt text message thanking me, which was a letdown considering the trouble I’d gone to to piss him off.

“He’s found someone else to play with, Boy Wonder.” Charli’s soothing tone didn’t match her grin. “And she’s much prettier than you.” I’d always thought Ryan would end up with a stewardess called Mindy or a fashion model with a secret cocaine habit. Seeing him land a girl as sweet and nice as Bente was almost anticlimactic, but he was smitten.

We hadn’t spent much time together lately. I’d been putting in extra hours in an attempt at getting Dad off my back. It wasn’t working. The more conscientious I became, the harder he pushed me. Sooner or later we were going to come to blows. I could feel it brewing, especially since he’d started mentioning the idea of me going back to school to gain my masters degree. But the inevitable showdown was not going to happen today.

In the nicest of surprises, Ryan showed up in my office with Bridget in tow.

I was on the phone at the time, which made no difference to my little wannabe fly-girl. She launched herself at me full force, giving me no recovery time before she threw her arms around my neck and squeezed me half to death. I managed to end the call on a polite note and prised myself free. “What are you doing here?” I asked, tickling her enough to make her giggle. “It’s such a nice surprise.”

“It’s a good story of the day today.”

“Indeed,” I agreed.

Bridget had been taking note of the story of the day for a long time. Alex once told her that her day could be determined by the weather. It wasn’t such a left-of-centre concept coming from a diehard surfer like him. If he missed a morning in the water because of crappy weather, his day was ruined.

Ryan’s story of the day was obviously a good one too. He sat opposite my desk and got straight to business, explaining that he’d stumbled across a building that would be the perfect site for a new restaurant.

“It’s on West 52
^nd
,” he told me. “It’d be perfect, Adam.”

We were always on the lookout, but hadn’t come across anything since Billet-doux. I didn’t even need to see it to know that he’d found something good. The reason for my hesitation had nothing to do with Ryan – I trusted his business nous implicitly. I just didn’t have the time to commit to anything so involved.

Bridget picked up a pen and made a grab for the purchase agreement contract I’d been slaving over all afternoon. I snatched it away and handed her a notebook. “I don’t have time to do this, Ryan,” I said regretfully.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he assured me. “I just want to know if you want in on it.”

Bridget pointed her pen at him like a wand. “We want in on it, Ry,” she declared. “Just do it.”

I ignored her. The kid made enough deals without encroaching on real estate negotiations. “I’ll think about it,” I told him. At the very least, I needed to talk to Charli about it. I had no idea what her take would be. Undertaking a renovation would chew into even more precious family time. I wondered if Ryan had already run it past her so I didn’t have to. “Have you mentioned it to Charli?” I asked.

“No, that would involve dealing with your wife.” He shuddered. “And I make it a habit never to deal with your wife.”

“Daddy, can we go to the park?” interjected Bridget.

I looked at the mountain of work on my desk, quickly deciding that I’d been playing the part of diligent attorney for far too many hours that week. “Yes,” I replied. “Let’s get out of here for a while.”

After stopping for coffee, we ended up at Battery Park. I couldn’t ever remember taking Bridget there, which was criminal considering we’d been in town for nine months.

She took to the climbing frame as if she’d been there a hundred times. Ryan and I sat on a nearby bench and watched as she climbed up and down, performing stunts that would’ve made her mother a nervous wreck.

The conversation was strange. My brother wasn’t renowned for deep and meaningful chats, but every now and then he’d surprise me. He had never claimed to love any woman before, and he’d had more than his fair share. When he told me that he loved Bente, I believed him. He was too confused and worried to be anything other than genuine.

“You’re not locked in for a lifetime, Ryan,” I pointed out. “It’s not like you’ve married her.”

“What if I do marry her?” he asked, looking terrified. “How do I know it won’t happen again? I might fall in love again one day.”

He might’ve been on his way, but he clearly wasn’t all-in just yet. Falling in love is an inexplicable sensation deep within your soul. When it’s right, it never goes away. It endures everything, no matter what the story of the day might be.

“I fall in love ten times a day, Ryan,” I said with reverence. “But it’s always with Charlotte.”

It was too early to tell whether Bente was imbedded in his soul forever. I’d never had the misfortune of doubt. I knew from the minute I laid eyes on Charli that she’d stay in my heart forever. That made me the lucky one.

News of the potential new restaurant site was good. As Adam explained the deal to me, I watched more than I listened. I didn’t really need to know the details. All I needed to see was the spark of excitement in him that had been missing for a very long time.

When Ryan called a few days later and asked him to go and check it out after work, I all but demanded that he go. Then I crossed my fingers and wished hard that something would come of it.

Adam worked late so often that missing dinner didn’t faze Bridget any more. We made the most of it, indulging in a girly night that was predominantly spent in the bathroom. Mutual makeovers were always more fun for her than me. Sitting on her little pink footstool for half an hour was almost as excruciating as scrubbing waterproof mascara off my cheeks when she was finished. I never complained, mainly because I was relieved that she never called me out for being clueless. Bridget was undoubtedly a prissy girl – poles apart from me at the same age. Wearing pretty dresses and getting my toenails painted hadn’t rated highly when I was little. Truthfully, it hadn’t rated highly until I reached my twenties.

Childhood makeovers were definitely not something I indulged in. The closest thing to makeup in Alex’s house was sunscreen. I didn’t feel disadvantaged by that. It was just a different way of life – a life my girl would never know purely because she was a Décarie.

Adam and I kept her grounded as best we could. He was much tougher than I was, but he had a better idea of what was coming. Our daughter was in line to inherit an obscene amount of money when she turned eighteen. How she handled that was going to depend on how we handled the eighteen years before it.

“I just love blue sparkles,” she said, coming at me with a brush full of powder. “Do we have blue sparkles, Mummy?”

If I opened my mouth, I was going to eat the brush. “No one has blue sparkles, baby,” I murmured from a corner of my mouth. “Except maybe Cheynie’s mum.”