Second Hearts (The Wishes Series)

by G. J. Walker-Smith

  “Tell me.”

  Adam pulled out the chair closest to me and sat down. He looked up at the chandelier, scowling again. “The sign goes up tomorrow. Wait until then.”

  “No. I need to know now. It can’t be that bad.”

  He gave in instantly. “He called it Crystals.”

  I cracked, covering my mouth with my hand in a silly attempt at hiding my smile. “It sounds like a strip club or a new age healing clinic.”

  “Don’t tell Ryan that. He put a lot of thought into it. We spent thousands of dollars on that light fitting. I think he wants it to be the showpiece.”

  The chandelier was the showpiece. It was grand and beautiful. No one needed a sign on the building to realise it.

  “There are so many legends he could have drawn inspiration from. The best name he could come up with was Crystals?”

  “I don’t think he knows any inspiring tales about crystals,” said Adam, grinning across at me.

  I shook my head. “I wouldn’t expect him to. I’ll bet he knows a few inspirational girls called Crystal though.”

  Adam laughed darkly. “Probably.”

  “Chandeliers are the ultimate billet-doux,” I announced whimsically. “Love letters.”

  He managed to smile and frown at the same time. “I know the translation, Charlotte.”

  “I thought you might.”

  “But I don’t get the connection between a chandelier and a billet-doux.”

  I quickly glanced around the room, making sure Ryan was nowhere in sight. The last thing I wanted was to be caught out recounting one of the many stories in my repertoire that he found so strange.

  The coast was clear.

  Adam sat quiet and interested, listening to the tragic story of Mathilde and Eric.

  “They had four little children and no money, so Eric worked very hard as a fisherman, sometimes for weeks on end. The family lived in dilapidated shack at the top of a cliff overlooking the bay. It was freezing in winter and unbearably hot in summer, but Mathilde refused to move to another house on lower ground.”

  “Four kids, no money, ramshackle house. The woman must have been a glutton for punishment,” teased Adam, ticking off her troubles on his fingers.

  “She loved that house because she could see Eric’s boat in the bay while he was out fishing. And because she was clever, he could see her too.

  It started with a lantern that she hung from the porch. It was a little flicker of light that he could see all night long from his boat. Mathilde told him that every time she thought of him while he was at sea, she’d attach a crystal bead to the lantern, making the light flicker just a little bit brighter. It was her way of sending him love. It was a long distance billet-doux.”

  “I like that story,” Adam murmured.

  “That’s not the end,” I said, shaking my head. “After a long fishing trip one winter, Eric never made it home.”

  “Let me guess,” said a sarcastic voice from somewhere behind me. “The boat sank in rough seas and she never saw him again.”

  I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Ryan. I straightened. Ryan dropped a stack of papers and joined us.

  “I guess you’ll never know,” I told him.

  “Pay no attention to him, Charli,” urged Adam. “Finish your tale.”

  “There’s no need to finish it on my account,” said Ryan, checking the time on his watch.

  “Trust me. You’re going to want to hear the end of the story,” insisted Adam. “If you don’t, it’s going to torture you for the rest of the day.”

  Ryan squinted at me. “That probably would be one of your magical powers – stealing lucid thoughts.”

  “Amongst others,” I said, pulling a face at him.

  “Continue,” Ryan demanded.

  I looked at Adam as I spoke, ignoring the evil brother as best I could. “Poor Mathilde was heartbroken.”

  “Maybe he just wasn’t that into her and he took off with a mermaid or something,” suggested Ryan.

  “Shut up,” scolded Adam.

  I could feel my temper giving way but I continued. “Convinced he was still seeing the light from far out at sea, Mathilde continued attaching crystals every night. Eventually her children all grew up and left home, leaving Mathilde alone with her grief.”

  “Did they ever go back and visit?” Ryan’s curious question floored me. I looked across at him, grinning as if I’d just accomplished something huge. His sheepish expression led me to think maybe I had.

  “Not for years and years – long after Mathilde had died. The old shack was worse than ever, barely standing. But still hanging from the porch was the lantern with thousands of crystal beads hanging from it – every one of them representing a moment when she’d professed her love for Eric. It was a crystal billet-doux.”

  I was used to the faraway look Adam gave me after hearing my stories, but the stare from Ryan was plain unsettling. After a long while he snapped out of whatever thought he was lost in, pushed the stack of papers and a pen across to Adam and asked him to sign.

  Adam flicked through pages, scrawling his name but reading nothing. “That’s it?” he asked, handing the pen back to Ryan.

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “Great.” Adam stood up and pulled me to my feet. “We’re out of here.”

  We were almost to the door before I turned back to Ryan. He was still sitting at the table, absently clicking the lid of the pen in his hand.

  “Bye, Ryan,” I called.

  He didn’t look at me. “Au revoir, Tinker Bell,” he mumbled.

  28. English Rose

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about attending the grand opening of Crystal’s restaurant. The crappy choice of name was sure to be a bad omen. Maybe that’s why a kaleidoscope of butterflies had set up home in my stomach.

  “Adam, what if no one shows up tonight?” I asked, looking at him through the bathroom mirror.

  He continued fussing with his tie. “Ryan will cry.”

  “Are your parents going to be there?”

  “Yes. I think it’s safe to say they will definitely show.”

  The raging butterflies suddenly multiplied. Just the thought of seeing Fiona Décarie was pressure in my day. I hadn’t seen Jean-Luc since Christmas, and that suited me just fine. For all I knew, he loathed me just as much as the queen did.

  Not only was I going to have to deal with the king and queen, Parker and his minions also made the guest list. I couldn’t even whine about it. They were Adam’s friends – the very same friends who couldn’t stand the sight of me. The feeling was mutual, but as far as Adam knew we were all getting along just fine. The tangled web I’d woven was beginning to strangle me.

  Getting out of the confined space of the bathroom, I headed back to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Adam followed, crouching in front of me. “Is something bothering you, Charli?”

  I hate your fake friends! I despise your scheming mother! And I’m tired of pretending otherwise. Those were the words I wanted to scream, but my actual reply was more polite. “Other than the name of the restaurant, no.”

  He reached over to his dinner jacket that was laid out on the bed, and retrieved his phone from the pocket.

  “I was going to leave it as a surprise, but I’ll show you now.” He tapped the screen a few times and handed it to me. “I got this message from Ryan this afternoon.”

  It was a picture of the outside of the new restaurant. In big brass letters was the name.

  “Billet-doux,” I marvelled.

  Adam smiled brightly at me. “Ryan’s idea. You managed to inspire the uninspirable.”

  “Maybe there’s hope for him yet.”

  ***

  The gala opening of Billet-doux the grandest event I’d ever attended. It was also the first time I’d seen the chandelier lit up at night. It filled the entire restaurant with a warm glow that bounced off every surface. Soft classical music filtered through the room, and extraordinarily well-dressed pe
ople milled around, chatting, laughing and eating little canapés that looked too perfect to be real.

  Ryan’s proud glow was almost as bright as the chandelier. I spotted him the instant we walked in, but that was as close as I got to him.

  A middle-aged woman wearing a red velvet dress and the biggest ruby necklace I had ever seen collared Adam at the door. “Your mother is positively beaming with pride tonight, young man. You’ve done her extremely proud.”

  I quickly scanned the room, but couldn’t see her anywhere. It was annoying that she’d rated a mention. Fiona had had nothing to do with Billet-doux.

  “Thank you,” replied Adam politely. “Ryan did most of the work. Mrs Scholl, have you met my wife, Charlotte?”

  She extended her hand. “What an absolute pleasure,” she said, dragging out the words.

  Adam excused us both and we edged into the restaurant. We had the same false conversation a hundred times. Curiously, everyone seemed to know about me. I knew no one – until we stumbled upon the poison ivy league sitting at a table in the far corner.

  Until Bente arrived, hanging out with them would have to do. Kinsey was thrilled to see Adam. Presumably, having one of the guests of honour at her table would elevate her status colossally. “Come, sit,” she ordered, kissing his cheek without actually making contact. Although uninvited, I sat too.

  “You look gorgeous, Charli,” complimented Sera, leaning across to whisper the words. “I love your dress.”

  I loved my dress too. Ivy had worked her magic again, knocking out a pretty A-line black satin dress in just an hour and a half. Having my own dressmaker at the ready had its advantages. It also meant that my shiny black credit card still had a home in the kitchen drawer. Proudly, I’d never once had to use it.

  “Thank you; your dress is nice too.” One thing those girls never lacked was style. It was only charm and good manners that seemed to escape them.

  Adam appeared to have found his place for the evening. He did his absolute best to include me in the conversation but I wasn’t clued up on a lot of the subject matter. Not only were the purple circle mean and self-absorbed, they were an incredibly boring bunch of people. I had no clue what Adam saw in any of them. From my seat in the corner, I kept an eye on the door, silently cursing Bente for being late. Finally she arrived, wearing a pretty Ivy creation in blue organza. I excused myself and rushed to meet her, practically dragging her to the first empty table I found. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” I said, forgiving her tardiness instantly.

  “Fear not, Kemosabe. I’m here now. Where’s your frog?” I motioned toward Adam with an upward nod. “Oh, he’s with his little friends.”

  “Can we be nice, please? You’ll undo all my good work.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve been making an effort.”

  “When in Rome, do as the Romans do, right?”

  “You’re such a good wife, Charlotte.”

  “Will you come over there with me?”

  Bente giggled. “You’ve got to be kidding. Not a chance.”

  I looked back at the purple circle, catching Adam’s eye immediately. He smiled suggestively at me and I responded with a let’s-get-out-here smile of my own. Both of us knew it wasn’t going to happen. We were stuck there for the night.

  I turned my attention back to Bente. “Well, do you know anyone else here?” I asked, grasping for an alternative.

  “Where’s Ryan?”

  I looked around. “No idea. He was here a second ago.”

  “Well, if we can’t torment the host, we’ll drink his wine and stuff our handbags with as many hors d'oeuvres as we can carry. Let’s go to the bar.”

  I giggled at her absurd plan. “I’m pretty sure it’s all free tonight, Bente.”

  From the bar we had a perfect view of the mezzanine area that Ryan had elected to keep closed for the evening. Tragically, we also had a perfect view of the mystery blonde woman he was up there fooling around with.

  I didn’t think Bente had seen, until she let out a disgusted grunt, put her glass of wine on the bar and stormed off. Following her seemed like the right thing to do.

  “Bente, wait,” I called, grabbing her arm to slow her walk.

  “Charli, it’s fine,” she insisted, shrugging free of my grip. “I just need a minute.”

  We ended up in the bathroom.

  “I’m sorry.” I had no idea what else to say.

  “Don’t be. I’m not.”

  I didn’t believe her for a second. Bente was crazy about Ryan. I was certain the feeling was mutual, but for some stupid reason Ryan just couldn’t follow through.

  “I know how he feels about you. He’s just afraid.”

  “He’s just a douche bag,” she replied, beginning to cry. “He always has been.”

  I searched my tiny clutch bag for tissues, then remembered we were in a bathroom. I swiped the entire box of tissues off the vanity and handed them to her.

  “I’ll talk to him.”

  “And tell him what?” she sniffled. “This isn’t high school, Charli. He’s not going to change, and it’s about time I stop expecting him to.”

  I nodded. “Well, let’s just go back out there and pretend we didn’t see anything.”

  Bente honked into a handful of tissues. “No. I’m going home. I’m not going to pretend anything, Charli. That’s your forté, not mine.”

  Her comment stung more than I let on. Pretending everything was fine was my specialty of late. And I was close to living a complete lie because of it.

  “Okay,” I offered, “I’ll sneak a bottle of wine from the bar and we’ll stay in here all night.”

  “Deal,” she replied, laughing through her tears.

  I ordered her to stay put and headed back to the party, making it as far as the bar.

  “Can I help you with something, Mrs Décarie?”

  I spun around, expecting to see the queen standing behind me before realising the barman was talking to me. “Oh, um, yes. A bottle of merlot, please.”

  “A whole bottle?”

  Foolishly, I amended my order. “Two, actually.”

  Wisely deciding against questioning me any further, he placed two bottles of wine on the bar. I snatched them, thanked him and bolted back to the bathroom.

  Bente had given in to the misery by then. She was sitting on the floor with her back against the wall, smoking a cigarette. I set the wine down beside her and started waving my arms around, trying to clear the smoke. “You can’t smoke in here,” I chided.

  “I’m pretty sure I can do anything I want to.”

  Setting off the smoke alarms and clearing the building probably would have brought her a little joy at that point. I was usually the first one to err on the side of wickedness, but for once I hesitated. Ryan was an ass, but he didn’t deserve to have his party shut down.

  I sat beside her, took the cigarette out of her hand and handed her a bottle of wine. She couldn’t burn the place down with merlot.

  My track record for being a good friend wasn’t exactly stellar. I was happy to be there in Bente’s hour of need – right up until the bathroom door opened and I was caught red-handed by the queen.

  Considering the height of our heels and the short length of our dresses, Bente and I scrambled to our feet remarkably quickly. I ran to the sink and extinguished the cigarette under the running water.

  Fiona looked aghast. “You trashy little minx!”

  “It’s not what you think, Mrs Décarie,” Bente exclaimed. “Charli has done nothing wrong.”

  Fiona stepped into the room, furiously wagging her finger. There was a fair chance I wasn’t going to get out alive.

  “Everything this girl does is wrong,” she growled. “Just who do you think you are? You’re married to my son. Do you understand what that means?”

  “I’m beginning to,” I muttered.

  “You’re a disgrace, Charlotte,” barked Fiona. “If you think for one second I’m going to sit back and accept this v
ile situation, you’re sadly mistaken.”

  “Mrs Décarie, please,” said Bente. “Just stop.”

  The brunt of her anger was reserved entirely for me. The queen didn’t pay Bente an ounce of attention, which was unfortunate. If she had, she might have realised that Bente’s pleading had something to do with the fact that two women now stood in the doorway behind her, hanging on every word.

  “I rue the day Adam met you,” she declared, doing her very best to menace me. “You’re nothing more than an unrefined little bitch.”

  A collective gasp from her audience of two alerted her that they were there. She glanced at them before spinning back to face me, looking one part mortified, one part trapped rat.

  “Pull yourself together and find Adam. Do not leave his side for the rest of the evening,” she ordered, leaning forward to whisper her command.

  “Let’s go, Charli,” mumbled Bente, nudging me toward the door.

  My grip on Bente’s arm as we wove toward Adam was vice-like. “Say nothing to Adam about this,” I warned.

  “Would you rather he heard about it from his mother?” she hissed.

  “She won’t breathe a word.” I was almost certain of it. Past history told me Fiona wasn’t likely to squeal.

  “Why do you let her treat you like that, Charli?” I had no answer. My reasons for keeping quiet were becoming hazier by the day. “Adam needs to know his mother’s a bitch.”

  “Not tonight,” I replied, demanding she keep quiet.

  Adam was pleased to see me; blissfully unaware of anything that had just happened.

  “Sorry,” apologised Bente, thrusting me toward him. “I stole her away.”

  “Understandable,” said Adam, reaching for my hand. “She is gorgeous.”

  From then on, minutes ticked by like hours. The only person having a worse evening than me was Bente. I wasn’t surprised when she left early. If I thought I could have, I would’ve escaped with her. Things went from bad to worse when Adam suggested we go and chat with his parents. I agreed, unable to come up with a plausible reason not to. I looked across at the Décaries. Fiona was doing all the talking. Jean-Luc nodded occasionally. I knew exactly what she was telling him.