The Sweetest Thing

by Deborah Fletcher Mello

  8

  The ride to the legal offices Troy shared with Rachel was quiet. Troy drove, Harper rode shotgun, and Quentin brought up the rear, occasionally kicking the back of Harper’s seat as he tried to situate himself in the back of his brother’s sports car. A morning radio show played softly.

  An awkward veil had dropped down over them. Everyone had felt it after the men had returned from church the previous afternoon. Harper had surprised them with a supper of chicken and sausage gumbo, red beans and rice with a peach dump cake for dessert. She’d set the table for them to eat and had been excited to see Quentin when they’d returned. But he’d been quiet and distant, blaming his demeanor on a headache.

  Her skills in the kitchen had caught Quentin by surprise but both had found it uncomfortable when Troy had teased her about making some guy a good wife someday. Quentin hadn’t considered that she might someday want a relationship with any guy. He found the thought disturbing. After the meal, Quentin had disappeared down to the bakery and had never returned.

  Harper and Troy had talked until she’d grown tired and had headed to bed. A nightmare woke her in the wee hours of the morning and she’d gone looking for Quentin, hoping that he would have been sprawled across the living room sofa again. When she realized that he was still working intently, prepping for the week, she’d tiptoed back to the bedroom and had flipped through her album of Quentin pictures for the umpteenth time. In the midst of a rising fantasy Jasmine’s comments suddenly weighed on her mind, moving Harper to delete the photos from her device. She blew a deep sigh as she stared out the car window. Outside the streets were clear, little evidence of Saturday’s snowstorm remaining. The sun was shining brightly and the temperature was rising nicely.

  In the backseat Quentin’s eyes were closed, his head resting back against the headrest. It had been a long night and he imagined his day would not end anytime soon. He’d been avoiding Harper and truth be told that bothered him almost as much as Miss Alice’s comments had. When it came to Harper, Quentin wasn’t interested in being her “big brother,” or anyone else’s. He reasoned that he really wouldn’t be any good at it. That position was best left to Troy.

  Opening his eyes he eyed her staring out into space and wondered what she might be thinking. She drew her hand across the back of her neck, her fingers twisting through the short length of her hair. He suddenly shifted his gaze to the rearview mirror, meeting Troy’s stare. His brother smiled ever so faintly and Quentin nodded just before closing his eyes a second time.

  At the legal offices of Elliott and Harris, Esq., Rachel Harris greeted the brothers warmly. Her reception for Harper had an edge of chill to it but it didn’t faze Harper one way or the other. They all took a seat around the large wooden conference table and the woman got right down to business.

  “Here is a copy of Mr. Everett’s will for each of you,” she said as she passed a stack of documents around the table. “It’s very straightforward and I don’t anticipate that there will be any claims filed against his estate. He was very conscientious about settling all of his affairs after he got sick.”

  She paused as she allowed each of them to peruse the legal jargon that had put their father’s life in order following his death. “Ownership of the business Just Desserts as well as the building where it’s housed is bequeathed to his only daughter, Harper Yvonne Donovan. The property had been appraised at one point two million dollars prior to Mr. Everett’s renovating it. There is no outstanding mortgage and there are no liens on it. I’m sure that it has increased substantially in value since then and you should probably have it reappraised. The deed for the property was registered in your name at the time of purchase and I have those documents for you as well. From this point forward, Harper, you are responsible for all taxes and fees associated with the building, the business, and the property.” She passed Harper a folder then continued.

  “Mr. Everett made some very wise investments over the years and he had a very healthy stock portfolio. Those stocks are to be divided equally between his two sons, Quentin Fitzgerald Elliott and Troy Bernard Elliott. He also had his money housed in three bank accounts where each of you was individually listed as a joint owner with full rights of survivorship. The content of your respective accounts is now automatically owned by each of you.” She passed each of them a bank statement with their individual names on them.

  Quentin’s eyes widened as he looked from Troy to Harper and back. “Pop had this kind of money in the bank?” he questioned as he reflected on the seven figures staring up at him.

  Rachel nodded. “Mr. Everett might have lived a simple life but he was a brilliant businessman. He said that he was going to make sure his family was taken care of when he passed and he did.”

  Harper’s own eyes bulged in shock and surprise as she examined her own statement.

  “Mr. Everett also left a nice donation to be made to the church and he made arrangements for Miss Alice to be taken care of for the remainder of her life.” Rachel turned to speak directly to Harper. “When I spoke with you last week you indicated that you wanted to sell the business as quickly as possible. Do you still feel that way, Harper?”

  Quentin was dumbfounded, surprise tinting his expression as his head snapped around to stare at Harper. She looked from him to his brother, suddenly caught off guard.

  “Well . . . I . . . it’s . . .” she stammered.

  Rachel held up her hand. “Obviously your life is back in Louisiana. And, with this being such a big decision for you to make, no one expects that you’ll have an answer right away. But I’m certain Troy and Quentin will understand your wanting to get back to what you know. I’m sure your family and friends are missing you back home.” She gave Harper a smile, the gesture everything but sympathetic. “If you do decide to sell, I know a number of investors who would be very interested in talking with you. I had scrutinized a few buyers who’d approached Mr. Everett a year or so ago. I’m sure any one of them would be willing to make it happen quickly and easily if that’s what you wish.”

  Quentin interjected. “I never considered that you might want to sell the bakery,” he said, still looking stunned.

  Harper still didn’t know what to say because that moment was the first time she’d given any consideration to keeping it. She took a deep breath as she carefully collected her thoughts before she spoke. “When Rachel called to say my father had left me the business I didn’t know what I expected to find or what would happen once I got here. Obviously, I now know how much the business means to you both and whatever decision I make will reflect your wants as well as my own. You can trust that.”

  Quentin nodded, dropping his gaze down to the table. He blew a deep sigh.

  “Well,” Rachel added. “I understand it might be a challenge but when your father drew up his will and left the business to you he also wanted to ensure that Troy and Quentin had an opportunity to pursue their own dreams and passions. Personally, I’m convinced that’s the reason why he didn’t leave Just Desserts to them. He didn’t want them to feel obligated to continue his dream when it wasn’t theirs.” She cut her eyes at the two brothers.

  “Troy, you are always saying that you want to give politics a try and running for office would mean you’d have less time to worry about managing the bakery. And Quentin, what about your musical career? The bakery takes up so much of your time that this might be the opportunity you need to see where you can take that.”

  “But Quentin loves the bakery!” Harper chimed. She turned toward him. “Do you not like what you do?” she asked.

  Quentin nodded. “I do love the bakery but you have to do what’s right for you, Harper.”

  Harper’s head waved from side to side. Tears burned hot behind her eyelids and she took a deep breath to keep them from falling. In that moment she would have given anything to be held. Quentin was still eyeing her intently. He bit down against his bottom lip, everything in him wanting to pull her into his arms to hold.

  Troy cleare
d his throat. He rose from his seat, extending a hand toward Rachel. “Thank you. We all appreciate everything you’ve done.”

  The woman nodded. “We’re all family and if there is anything I can do for you guys and your sister,” she said, emphasizing the word, “don’t hesitate to let me know.”

  She and Troy both turned to stare at the other two at the same time. The look Quentin and Harper were giving each other was anything but familial. Rachel grimaced, fighting to keep a smile on her face. She came to her feet and moved to Quentin’s side. The man turned to look up at her. Throwing her arms around his shoulders she hugged him tightly as she pressed her torso tight to his. Her eyes locked gazes with Harper behind his back. She gave the woman a smile. “Your brother is very special to me,” she said as she pressed a kiss to Quentin’s cheek. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”

  Lifting her paperwork from the table, Harper nodded her head at Troy. “I’ll meet you both at the car,” she muttered softly and then she headed toward the door and exited the room.

  “I don’t know why you’re mad,” Quentin said as they made their way back across town. He leaned forward from the backseat.

  Harper refused to meet his gaze, staring out the passenger-side window. “I’m not mad,” she muttered between clenched teeth.

  Troy shook his head. “She’s not mad,” he said as he brought the car to a stop at a stoplight.

  The smirk on his brother’s face was annoying and Quentin said so. “Shut up, Troy!”

  Troy shrugged, his wide grin still pulling at his features. Harper shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Then if you’re not mad, what’s wrong with you?” Quentin questioned. “Because I don’t know what’s wrong!”

  And neither did Harper. She didn’t have the words to tell Quentin why she’d reacted so strongly. And what words she did have would have made her look like a complete and total fool because Harper Donovan had absolutely no business being jealous. But she was. Jealousy had ripped a hole in her heart, the lesion so deep that the hurt of it had been corporeal. She wasn’t Quentin’s sister. She didn’t want to be his sister. And she surely didn’t want the likes of Rachel Harris doing one damn thing for him. She felt her whole body tense in frustration. She leaned closer to the window, still staring out of it.

  “You are mad,” Quentin persisted. “I didn’t tell Rachel to hug me like that.”

  “I am not mad!” Harper hissed a second time. “And you and Rachel can do whatever the hell you two want!”

  “You and Rachel can hug,” Troy interjected. “It’s okay.”

  “Shut up, Troy!” Quentin and Harper both snapped in unison.

  A brief moment of silence filled the enclosed space and then Troy started laughing. The sound filtered from the front of the car to the back. A minute passed and Quentin was laughing with him, the intensity of their sniggering infectious. By the time they made it back to Beale Street, Harper had joined in and the three were laughing together. The hilarity of the moment eased every ounce of tension that either might have been feeling and as Troy pulled his car in front of the bakery both Quentin and Harper had reclaimed the level of comfort they had found with one another.

  “How are you situated for the night?” Troy asked, looking back at Quentin.

  “Actually, I’m prepped for the next three days. What’s up?”

  “We’ve all been invited over to the club tonight. They’re throwing a tribute for Pop, and Miss Alice thought you might want to play with the band.”

  “What club?” Harper asked, looking from one to the other.

  Quentin answered. “Club 753. It’s just up the street. Pop would sometimes play with the house band there. It was just one of the many places where he and his old cronies hung out.” He turned back to Troy. “What time?”

  “You know how they do. We can roll up in there around ten. They probably won’t get started good until eleven. And that’s if we’re lucky!”

  Quentin looked at Harper. “Would you like to go?” he asked.

  She smiled and nodded. “I guess so. I would love to hear you play again.”

  Troy cut an eye at his brother. “You played for Harper?”

  “I didn’t play for Harper. I was playing the other morning and she happened to come in just as I was finishing.”

  Troy’s eyebrows were lifted. “Quentin has never played for anybody before. You must be special,” he said teasingly.

  Harper laughed as she pushed open the car door. “And don’t you forget it!”

  Quentin called Harper’s name, yelling down the short length of hallway. “Come on! Troy’s already in the car!”

  “I’m coming,” Harper yelled back as she closed the bedroom door and made her way into the living space.

  Quentin stood in wait, his saxophone case in hand. He was dressed in a dark gray suit and white dress shirt that was opened at the collar. His chiseled features were complemented by the first hint of a goatee and beard, his rugged look moving Harper to stop in her tracks. She held her breath as she stared, heat igniting outward from her feminine spirit.

  Quentin smiled and tossed her an easy wink of his eye. She was stunning in a strapless, black-lace dress that stopped midthigh. She’d pulled a flat iron through her curls and her pixie cut lay flat against her head, her wispy bangs falling into her face. Her smoky eye makeup complemented the neutral tone of her lipstick. She was ravishing and every muscle in Quentin’s body thought so. He pulled the leather case in front of himself, hoping to hide the rise of nature that threatened to expose his desire. He took a deep breath and then a second.

  “I like the shoes,” he finally said. “Those shoes are hot!”

  Harper laughed as she extended her right foot, showing off the red, four-inch, leather stilettos. “They are but what about the rest of my outfit?” she asked. “Is this okay to wear?” She did a pageant spin, then stopped and posed. Her smile was bright and then she licked her lips, the gesturing teasing as she bit down against her bottom lip.

  Quentin nodded, perspiration suddenly breaking out across his brow. “Uh, yeah,” he muttered. “It’s good. It’s all good.”

  Harper giggled again. “You don’t look bad yourself!” she said, her eyes wide.

  Troy suddenly moved into the room, his gaze shifting from one to the other. “We all look good. Now are you two coming or not?” he asked as he tossed his hands up.

  Quentin hurried toward the door. “Don’t yell at me. She was the one taking so long,” he chimed.

  As Harper followed behind them, Troy shook his head. “You two are about to work my last nerve,” he said. “And I’m definitely telling Miss Alice!”

  Their teasing and fussing continued to the car and didn’t stop until they walked into the late-night music spot. Club 753 was an intimate jazz-and-blues club with a loyal following. The space was already filled to capacity when the trio arrived, friends greeting them warmly at the door. Miss Alice was seated at a table near the front and she waved them over, both of her hands dancing in the air above her head.

  “Don’t you look pretty,” Miss Alice chimed as she leaned up to kiss Harper’s cheek.

  “Thank you!” Harper said, her bright smile warming her face. “What a nice crowd,” she said as she pulled off her jacket.

  “It is a nice crowd. Everett would have liked this,” the older woman responded. She looked from Troy to Quentin, both men still standing. “What’s wrong with you two?” she asked.

  Quentin shrugged. “Nothing. Just a little nervous I guess.”

  Miss Alice chuckled warmly. “Boy, you know you don’t have anything to be nervous about. Just get up there and do your best. Make your daddy proud.”

  “I don’t know why he’s nervous,” Troy said. “He’s already played for Harper, Miss Alice.”

  Miss Alice leaned back in her seat as she looked first at Quentin and then at Harper. She leaned in, the gesture conspiratorial as she crooked her index finger in Harper’s direction. She
leaned her face next to the young woman’s and whispered loudly enough for both of the men to hear, her gaze resting on Quentin’s face.

  “That boy has a crush on you,” she said.

  Quentin felt a wave of heat rush to his cheeks as he blushed profusely. He shook his head then turned away, moving to the stage and the band that was setting up to perform. Troy laughed as he dropped down into the seat beside the matriarch. Miss Alice laughed heartily, clapping her hands together in front of her.

  “Miss Alice, you shouldn’t tease him like that,” Harper said.

  Miss Alice laughed again. “I’m not teasing. That boy likes you and you like him, too. But you need to be careful. You two are still going through some things. Y’all need to take it slow.”

  “You tell ’em, Miss Alice!” Troy added. “They’re like little puppies together. It makes my skin crawl!”

  Harper laughed with him. “We are not like puppies!”

  “You don’t want me to tell Miss Alice about that naked thing you two have going on!” he teased.

  “What?” Miss Alice exclaimed. “Naked!”

  Harper’s giggles swept around the table. “Oh, no you didn’t!”

  The moment was interrupted when Rachel entered the club and made her way to the table. “Hey everybody,” she chimed.

  Miss Alice and Troy greeted her warmly.

  Harper’s good mood dampened ever so slightly. “Rachel.”

  “Harper.”

  The two women gave each other the stink eye as Rachel took the seat beside Troy.

  “This is so exciting!” Rachel exclaimed. “I’m excited to hear Quentin play.”

  Harper turned to look at her. “You’ve never heard Quentin play before?”

  The woman shook her head. “No. Why?”

  Miss Alice chimed in as she lifted her wineglass to her lips. “Harper has. Quentin’s been playing for her,” she said nonchalantly.