Love Is Lovelier (15 page)

For a second, her delight dimmed. Then she reminded herself that Remy was not alive. And that he’d been clear that he would never want her alone and without love.

He does love me, Remy. That’s what he says, and how he acts, at least. And I think I believe him.

But Remy didn’t answer, of course. It was up to her to take the next step in the journey William was clearly bent on making with her.
You’re going to catch up, aren’t you?

She’d told him yes. And meant it.

Mostly. It was only that she’d never envisioned loving again. That was the explanation for the tiny hesitation that still dogged her. This was all so new…so unexpected. And she’d left impulsiveness behind when she’d left girlhood.

She smiled, thinking of the way she’d backed William against the counter. Surprising him.

Maybe she hadn’t forgotten spontaneity altogether. She considered going shopping for a new outfit for their date tonight, but there wasn’t really time. As a matter of fact, she’d better move along.

“Mrs. Marchand.”

She turned at the sound of the voice. “Hi, Julie. Isn’t it past time for you to get off work? Mac’s surely waiting for you.”

Mac Jensen was head of his own security business but he’d been working for the Hotel Marchand for the past several months. He’d taken the job to keep an eye on Julie, and in the end, the two of them had fallen in love. Anne would miss Mac, who was winding up his work at the hotel, but at least they’d stay in touch through Julie.

Julie seemed flustered. “He will be, but he understands my job. He doesn’t exactly keep office hours himself.”

“No, I imagine he doesn’t. I’m grateful that we still have him, but I don’t want either of you working too hard.”

“It’s that season,” Julie said.

“So true. After Mardi Gras, we’ll all breathe easier. So what’s on your mind?”

“Charlotte asked me to find you. She’d like to meet you in your quarters, if that’s all right.”

“Is she okay? Has something happened?”

Julie seemed very uneasy. “She just…needs to talk with you.”

Anne thought about her daughter’s tears of the previous afternoon. The pressure she was under. “Of course.” She didn’t have much time to get ready for her date, but if her daughter needed her, William would understand, she was certain. They could delay their dinner.

Or postpone if needed. “I’ll head there right now.”

“Thank you. I could walk with you.”

Anne shot her a sideways glance. “That’s very sweet of you, but since I’ve lived there for thirty-some years now, I’m pretty sure I can find it.” She stopped. “Unless you need to talk? The pressures on Charlotte surely spill over on you.”

“Me?” Julie nearly squeaked. “Oh, no. No, I’m fine, really. Charlotte handles her job very well.”

“As her mother, I appreciate the contributions you make to her welfare. You have a good evening, dear.”

“You, too, Mrs. Marchand.” But Julie’s voice sounded sad enough that as Anne rode up in the elevator, she resolved to check in with the girl tomorrow and make sure she was really all right.

She was still thinking about Julie when she opened her door.

And found all four of her daughters inside.

“Well, now. Have I forgotten an occasion?”

Then their expressions registered. Charlotte’s was grim, Melanie’s furious, Renee’s determined and Sylvie’s sad.

“What’s wrong? Daisy Rose is okay?
Grand-mère?
Or is it Pete or—”

Sylvie was beside her. “Everyone’s fine, Mama.” She cast a chastening glance at her sisters. “Great job, girls. Scare her to death.” She turned back to Anne. “We just need to talk to you.”

“About what?” Whatever it was couldn’t be good. “If it’s not the family, what’s happened with the hotel?”

“Mama, sit down. Please.” Charlotte approached her, arms stiff by her side, as if she were facing a firing squad.

Then a bolt of pure fear hit her. “William. He’s hurt. He’s—” Blindly, she sought the door.

Sylvie gripped her hand. “William is healthy, as far as we know. Please sit, Mama.”

Anne tugged her hand away. Rubbed her arms, suddenly cold. Her stomach took a long, greasy roll. Even without hearing more, she felt some part of her already alert for danger. For pain.

“I prefer to stand.” She held herself erect, bracing for the blow. “Whatever you have to say, don’t string it out.”

But Charlotte, her strong, steady Charlotte, had tears in her eyes. “Mama, I’d sell my soul not to have to tell you this. I considered every option because I’m scared to death of hurting you or harming your health. But I knew, in the end, that only the truth would suffice.”

“Stop dragging your heels, Charlotte Anne. I’m not going to have another heart attack. Spit it out.” She hated to be so brusque with one of her babies, but a deep, nasty ache was settling into her bones.

Charlotte glanced around at her sisters as if for strength, then exhaled in a weary gust. “William is the one who made the second offer on the hotel. I just found out today.”

At first, Anne thought she was hearing things. “What? No, he couldn’t have— He wouldn’t—”

We have another offer for the hotel. From a new party.

His eyes had only been concerned.
Who is it?

No. Please, no.

Would it be so wrong to accept the offer?

I love you, Anne.

His voice, the thrill she’d felt, mocked her now.

She fought off sick dread.

“No.” She clutched her fingers more tightly on her crossed arms. “He…” Loves me.
I love you, Anne
.

Blue eyes gazing into hers as he bent to her. Caressed her. Held her when she faltered.

“You’re wrong, Charlotte. However did you make this leap? Did you ask him?”

For a second, her daughter looked uncertain. “I didn’t have to. I asked Jud Lawson’s assistant.”

“The trustee.”

Charlotte nodded.

“And the assistant confirmed it?”

“Next thing to it.”

“What would make you do such a thing in the first place?” Anne felt rebellious. Images of William’s kindness flew at her, shutter-fast.

Holding her.

Listening to her.

Laughing with her.

Making love.

The man who’d done those things couldn’t have deceived her this way. Charlotte must be wrong. “You didn’t want me seeing William, and I understand the dilemma. You and your father were so close. Of course it’s hard to think of me with another man, but you would stoop to spying on William?”

Her daughter reacted as if she’d slapped her. “I didn’t spy. Someone left me a note.”

“Who?”

“It was anonymous.”

“Well, then.” Anne felt steadier. “Maybe the Corbins had that sent to you, to rattle you so that we would quit considering the second offer.”

“I spoke to Jud Lawson, too, Mama.” Charlotte’s tone was laced with pity.

“And he admitted it?”

“Not in so many words. Legally, he can’t. But I read between the lines. There’s no question, Mama.”

Anne turned away from her children. Between those lines lay her future. Her heart. “So you can’t be certain.”

“Judith Armstrong was in my office just a little while ago. Feeling me out about terms.”

Anne wondered then exactly how many ways there were for a heart to break. But she persisted. “So maybe Regency Corp. made the offer without William’s knowledge.”

“Mama, William
is
Regency.” But Charlotte’s expression betrayed some doubts. “Actually, in this case, I think it’s William who’s acting without anyone else at Regency knowing. Judith was stunned when I confronted her.”

“So she doesn’t believe you, either.”

“Oh, Mama,” Sylvie said. “I understand why you don’t want to credit this, but—”

Her daughters were crowding her, each one looking sorrowful.

She held up a hand. “I need you to leave me alone now.”

Their shock was as great as her own. She had never in her life rejected the strong ties that bound them.

“Mama, we’re only trying to protect you,” Renee said.

I want to take care of you.

She was suffocating in the intentions of others. “I need time.” She clutched her middle. “I don’t know what to think.”

“I’ll call him for you, Mama,” Melanie offered. “Tell him to back off.”

“No.” Anne’s refusal brooked no interference. She took in a deep breath and prayed for calm in this maelstrom within her. “I know you all love me, and I love you. You only want what’s best for me, and I understand that, but—” Her voice broke. When they moved toward her again, she longed for that circle of love as much as she craved space from it. “Please. I just—”

She looked from face to beloved face, settling on Charlotte’s last of all. “I’m sorry. I know this was hard for you. I’ll be all right, but I have to handle this myself.” She pasted on a smile as only a mother can. “Really. Don’t worry about me. I promise I will call you when I’m ready to talk.” She eyed her bedroom, wanting to escape and shut herself in, but she couldn’t bear to be so restricted.

“Go now,
mes anges
. Mama needs some time alone.”

Still they hesitated. “I wish Papa were here,” Melanie said, seeming her daddy’s little girl again.

“Oh,
bébé
—” The thought of Remy nearly broke her then. “So do I.” But she straightened her shoulders and put everything she had into convincing her girls that they weren’t abandoning her. It was a mother’s job to be leaned on, not to lean. “But he isn’t, and I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. Now, shoo, and perhaps we’ll meet for coffee later,
bon?
”

They were clearly not convinced, but at last it was Sylvie, another mother, who broke the standoff. “All right, girls.” She began to herd them through the door. “We’ll give her a while—” she cast Anne a meaningful glance “—and then we’ll hunt her down like a dog.”

Anne’s smile became a little more real. “I promise,
chère
. Just a little time.”

So they left, but Charlotte was the last. She turned at the door. “I don’t think I’m mistaken, Mama, but I wish I were.” Remorse weighed her down unmercifully.

“It’s never wrong to tell the truth to your mother,
doucette.
Now go. I’ll call you in a bit.”
If I don’t get to be alone in one more minute, I’ll shriek. Or weep
.

“I love you, Mama.”

“And I you,
mon ange
.”

Still, Charlotte hesitated, only slowly closing the door.

Anne’s composure held until she turned the lock, crossed the room.

Walked into her bedroom, seeing William everywhere.

Then she sagged to the floor.

And sobbed her heart out.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I
N HIS HOME OFFICE
, William dictated one more memo for his assistant to type up in the morning, forcing himself not to look at his watch again.

He would see Anne in just over an hour. He had left the office early, too impatient to hang around. And he still had plenty of time to shower and pick her up.

I want to see her now.

He was pathetic. He leaned his chair back, propped his feet on his desk—

And grinned at himself. He’d been more patient when he was sixteen and anticipating his first car date.

He hadn’t known beans. Hadn’t possessed the first clue what it would be like to love a woman, to make love to her and not simply score. To formulate plans that lasted beyond the next four hours, stretching instead over the next, he hoped, many years.

That young man had had youth on his side and stamina out the wazoo—

But surprisingly enough, William wouldn’t trade places with him.

Because that young man’s future had been to lose—though he’d never had her, not really—the treasure that was Anne Marchand. No, all William wished he could trade was the span of years ahead of him. He’d love nothing more than to spend forty or fifty years with Anne, but their time together would be much less, no matter how fit they kept themselves. The thought made him more than a little sad.

They would make the most of each precious second, he vowed. Live in the moment the way kids never could, too busy grasping for the future.

Now was what counted. Today. He smiled extravagantly. Tonight.

He wasn’t without his future plans, of course. Anne had changed them. He was eager now to settle Judith into his chair and turn over the reins. Help Anne and Charlotte steady their hotel’s footing.

So that he could spirit Anne away. Travel, anywhere she wanted. Or stay at home, if that’s what she preferred. His only firm requirement was…her. Twenty-four seven. Three-sixty-five. Stretching the time they were allotted to encompass every last pleasure he could give her. Each moment of peace and security and comfort he was allowed to provide.

The front door opened. “Daddy, are you here?”

He sat up. Smiled because he’d just been thinking of his daughter.

She charged through his door, hair disheveled, eyes red.

He surged to his feet. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Come here, let me look at you—”

She recoiled from him as if he’d slapped her. “How could you?”

His head jerked back. “What? I don’t understand.”

“I’m the one who doesn’t get it.” Her face was ravaged. “I thought you trusted me, but you don’t, do you? Not if you could keep something like this from me.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she meant. He was only keeping one secret from her—well, two, if you counted that he’d fallen in love with Anne. “How did you find out?”

“You don’t even deny it? I couldn’t believe it when Charlotte threw it in my face. I told her you would never—but you have, haven’t you?”

Dread settled into his gut. “Charlotte…knows?” Oh, dear God. She would tell— “I have to call Anne.”

His daughter crumpled before his eyes. “You betray me, and you’re only worried about her? What kind of hold does that woman have on you?” She folded in on herself and sank to a chair. “I’m your child, Daddy.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He knelt beside her, though he was desperate to get to Anne before her daughter did. “I didn’t betray you.”

Her head whipped around. “What did you do, take the offer I structured and submit it without me? Put me off by patting me on the head and sending me to Dallas, so I would think you actually had confidence in me?”

“Oh, honey, no. It wasn’t that way at all. I do have confidence in you. You’re going to take over, and you’ll be good at it—”

She shoved to her feet so abruptly that he nearly lost his balance. She stood over him, a virago with eyes shining fury. “You gave me this job because you pitied me. I couldn’t even do a good job of being a wife, much less running the company you love more than me. And now you’ve made a fool of me. Don’t appease me. This isn’t a scrape you can kiss and make better.”

He rose to his full height. Reminded himself that she was still shaky and emotional after the divorce. “You’re wrong,” he said quietly. “And if you’ll quit being hysterical, I’ll explain everything to you.”

But she was beyond reason. “I wish Mother had lived instead of you. She would never, ever—” Judith nearly spat the words “—have done this to me. She loved me. Was always there for me.”

He couldn’t deny that Isabel had been the more hands-on parent. But that didn’t mean he didn’t love Judith. Wouldn’t like to cut out his own heart at the moment. “I love you, too, Judith. I never meant to hurt you.” He reached out for her.

She pulled away. Her devastated eyes raked scores over his conscience. “But you did.”

“Honey, sit down and let’s talk.”

She wheeled toward the door. “I—I can’t talk now. I’m very tired.” Her voice was small, like a child’s.

“Judith, come back here.” He started after her.

She picked up her pace until she was running.

Away from him.

William watched her go and wondered why his best intentions had gone so wrong. In trying to save the woman he loved, had he sacrificed, intentionally or not, the daughter he’d loved far longer?

He stood very still for endless seconds, torn between racing after the child who wanted nothing to do with him—and going to the woman who might very well come to agree completely with her.

He reminded himself that even as a child, Judith had been more receptive when given time to cool down. Her temper was quick, but she didn’t hold grudges.

He swallowed the sorrow that was his worry for his daughter, and sped toward the telephone. He would call Anne and hope to heaven that he caught her before Charlotte did. He would explain everything, and she would see that he’d only wanted to help her.

Or, as he’d feared when he’d taken the gamble, she would not. But he’d stay after her until her temper eased. Until she forgave him.

And the very first second that his daughter indicated a willingness to listen, he would do the same with her.

Somehow he would make all this work out. He had a knack for it.

But as he punched Anne’s number into the phone, the thrill he’d always gotten from flying in the face of risk felt a lot more like an endless plunge into a dark, gloomy cavern.

Anne’s phone rang and rang until her voice mail picked up. He glanced at his watch. Even a woman who’d proven her speed at dressing would be getting ready by now.

He hung up without leaving a message.

And paced as he wondered where she was.

A
NNE HEARD
the phone ring, and every peal of it was a stone casting ripples, each one spreading a wider circle edging toward her. Almost, but not quite, touching the stillness she’d willed around herself after she’d cried harder than any time in her life except the moment she’d accepted that Remy was truly gone.

She’d gathered that same silence around her in those awful days, and it had kept her going through the funeral and the first ragged wounds of her children’s grief. And when she’d finally cried, she’d done so alone, deep in the night after everyone had finally let her be by herself.

Solitude could be healing. It was a necessary part of life; each person was, in the end, alone.

She’d accepted that. Made her peace with it.

Then had come William. Even now, it was a cruel irony that the person she wanted most to talk to about the pain that lay in wait to tear at her was the man who had caused it.

Had she, just hours before, treasured the luxury of someone in whom to confide?

Her laugh was a raw scrape up her throat. She’d confided, all right. No wonder the new offer had seemed so perfect.

But even now, gratitude wanted to stir. The offer had been generous; both she and Charlotte had acknowledged that. Marveled at their fortune, even as they’d vowed not to accept.

He’d made a fool of her. He hadn’t been able to resist the opportunity to own Remy’s dream, after all.

But it had been her dream, too. And he’d kissed her, held her…made her feel cherished.

She sat up on the mattress.

For God’s sake, at least let me do this.

Was it possible? Could he have—

There weren’t enough ways to express how wrong his move had been, but—

The man who’d loved her so tenderly, who’d champed at the bit to take action on her behalf, that man was capable of a gesture he would see as bolstering her position.

Be honest, Anne. That’s exactly what it did.

She stood up and wobbled, dizzy from a stuffy nose after all those tears. She had to talk to him. Find out the truth.

Oh, please. Let Charlotte be wrong.

She made for the bathroom to wash her face, restore her makeup. At the sink, however, she faltered. Stared into the mirror.

Was she honestly ready to deal with a man again? Give him entry into her life? She’d adored Remy, but any relationship required work and compromise.

William was a full-grown man with his own habits and preferences and needs. Even if she weren’t kidding herself by assuming this offer wasn’t about double-dealing to achieve a goal, the truth remained that he’d lied to her. Just how well did she know him, anyway, if he could see her as someone to work around rather than a woman who could stand on her own?

Because she could. Had. If he could pay lip service to her strength but not respect it, then they were in for a rough ride.

And if the truth were worse, and he’d actually deceived her, seduced her as a means to an end—

She shoved away from the counter. He was due here in thirty minutes, and she couldn’t wait that long to find out. Too much was at stake.

She crossed into her living room. Stared at the phone. Rejected it.

This was a conversation to be had in person.

Let him look her in the eye and explain himself.

Then they would see if there was anything to be made of this attraction between them. He could not love her and lie to her, not now.

At the door, she paused. Steadied her breath. Searched for the strength that had brought her this far in her life.

She was afraid of what she would hear, yes.

But there would be truth between them.

Or there would be nothing.

B
LOUNT’S CELL PHONE RANG
, disturbing his poker game. “What?” he barked.

“Something’s up at the hotel, boss.”

His trusted lieutenant. “Explain.”

“Ricky was checking out spots for the fire, just like you asked, while I was keeping tabs on the Marchand woman. She gets around a lot, you know that? Talks to a lot of people.”

“Like who?”

“You know. Tourists and stuff. Everybody’s crazy about her.”

Blount rolled his eyes. “I’m in the middle of something here. Get to the point.”

“Oh. Yeah, well, remember you told us to pay attention to that guy Carter? The one working for Dumb and Dumber?”

Blount’s mouth twitched. The Corbins sometimes did resemble the bozos in that movie, but it didn’t pay to underestimate them. “So what’s he doing?”

“He saw Ricky. Bumped into him. Watched him some.” When Blount didn’t say anything, he continued. “We’re wondering if someone told him about the plans for the fire.”

Blount counted to ten. “They’d better not have. I don’t trust those two to carry it off. That’s why I put Ricky and you in there to make sure the damage is limited.”

“Think we should pay him a visit, see what he knows?”

Blount wondered if the Corbins could be so rash as to share the details of their business with someone under them. If so, Carter would have to be taken care of.

But not yet. “Keep an eye on him. See if he does anything funny. I wouldn’t put it past those two to try an end run around us. Not that they’d succeed, but we don’t need anything screwing up this close to the end. That all?”

“Uh, no. There’s more.”

“Like what?”

“Something’s got the daughters all upset. The whole bunch went to their mother’s quarters, and when they left, some of them were crying.”

Blount smiled. “Maybe they see the writing on the wall. Know they have to sell.”

“Guess so. But then Mrs. Marchand was in there a long time, but now she’s leaving in that hot Corvette she drives.”

“So?”

“I heard Armstrong say he’d pick her up at seven.”

“It’s six-thirty.”

“Maybe their plans changed, but she didn’t look happy. Oh, and the tap you got on that lawyer’s phone?”

“Lawson.”

“Right. Well, Jackie says Charlotte Marchand knows about Armstrong’s offer.”

“Hmm.”

“Yeah. And Armstrong’s daughter paid her a visit this afternoon.”

Armstrong’s daughter and Marchand’s daughter. What were they cooking up? “I don’t like it.”

“What do you want us to do, boss?”

The Corbins were losing control of the situation, that much was obvious. They needed to be cut out of the pack and isolated before everything went to hell. “Who’s on the Corbins?”

“Lou’s on Dan, Sally’s on Richard.”

“Find out what they’re doing and bring them in.”

“You got it.”

“And tell everyone, eyes sharp on the Marchands.”

A
CROSS TOWN
, Dan Corbin listened to a message from his brother. “Charlotte Marchand and Judith Armstrong met this afternoon. They’re going to cut us out of this, bro. Or Blount will. I tried it your way, but can’t wait any longer. I’m taking action.”

“Holy hell, Richard,” he murmured. “What have you done?” He punched his brother’s cell phone number.

The phone went direct to voice mail.

A
NNE WAITED
for the valet to retrieve her car for her and stared sightlessly into the distance. She should probably wait for William to arrive and have a calm discussion about Charlotte’s news. Give him a chance to explain his thinking.

But she didn’t feel the least calm. The more she considered, it didn’t matter if he were deceiving her for a beneficent reason or a malevolent one.