Accidental Heiress

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Accidental Heiress Page 7

by Nancy Robards Thompson

The four women glanced around the shop, taking in the molds decorating the walls, the gift baskets artfully arranged on glass shelving, the confectionary displayed in the old fashioned cases and on the marble wrap stand. Then a woman with a blaze of curly, fire-red hair and a demeanor that was nearly as vibrant stepped out from a back room.

  “Hello,” she said, again, this time in heavily accented English. “Good morning to you.”

  That was Maya. Margeaux would know her anywhere—even from the days when Maya’s mother had run the shop and she’d simply been her apprentice.

  Maya’s broad smile was nearly as warm as the color of her hair. “Someone’s in love. I can smell it as strong as a Don Juan rose in full bloom.”

  In the span of a heartbeat, Margeaux felt all eyes on her and a blush capable of melting all the chocolate in the shop crept up her throat.

  Maya tilted her head to the side and furrowed her brow scanning the four women. Her gaze flickered past Margeaux, then snapped back.

  “Congratulations, it’s you,” she said. “It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it? But no fear, this time you will get it right. But you need to be truthful with him.”

  Margeaux froze, but Maya had already moved on. She was smiling apologetically at the others. “No worries, your turns will come in due time. Don’t worry, everything will work out fine for everyone. Isn’t love a wonderful thing?”

  With all eyes on her, Margeaux felt the blush spread to her cheeks. Her thoughts drifted to Henri, who was working today. Even the mental picture of him made her heart beat faster.

  You have to be truthful with him.

  That could mean many things, she justified. It could mean she should be truthful about her feelings for him. It didn’t mean she should tell him about the baby.

  “Shame on me. I have not even introduced myself. I’m Maya.” She took Margeaux’s hand. “You are Margeaux Broussard, are you not?”

  Margeaux nodded. Oh, boy, had Maya seen Malone’s Daily Mail piece?

  “I am terribly sorry for your loss. The entire world grieves with you. I am honored that you have come to my shop in your time of need. I will do everything in my power to help you feel better.”

  Oh. How nice.

  If Maya had read his article, that certainly wasn’t the reaction Margeaux would have expected.

  The others introduced themselves to Maya almost reverently. Rumor had it that Maya’s mother had fancied herself a matchmaker. Maybe Maya had that gift, too—as well as psychic ability.

  “What may I get for you?”

  Warmth seemed to radiate out of Maya’s every pore. Margeaux felt every bit as drawn to her as she did the chocolate Maya made.

  “We’d like some chocolate,” Caroline said.

  “Well, you’ve come to the right place.” Maya gestured grandly to everything and nothing in general. “Did you have something in mind, or would you like for me to make some suggestions?”

  The women murmured, each of them gazing around.

  “Perhaps some samples, oui?” Maya offered.

  The women flocked around the wrap stand, and Maya looked at each of them. “All right, let’s see…one at a time.” First, she looked at Margeaux. “You’re the easy one since you’re already in love and he loves you, too. So, let’s start with you.”

  The girls squealed.

  “I knew it from watching you,” said Pepper.

  “I called it the first day when I saw his picture in the magazine,” said Caroline.

  “He was in a magazine?” asked Maya. “Is that true? Is he famous?”

  “Does it matter?” asked Margeaux, a little uncomfortable by all the attention. Henri had kissed her, he’d been her rock during the funeral, but nothing had been mentioned about the future beyond his comment about them having left a lot undone when they parted. She refused to read too much into that.

  Maya smiled. “You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?”

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out that. Her father had been a well-known public figure and a reporter from the past had reared his ugly head asking about issues that hit too close to home.

  But there was no way he could know the truth, despite what he chose to print. She had to stand strong.

  And there was no way she was going to jump to romantic conclusions about Henri and have her heart broken again.

  “My chocolates have medicinal properties,” Maya offered. “The right piece of chocolate can help a person solve their problems and fall in love. This is the one that’s right for you.”

  She held out a piece of heart-shaped dark chocolate. Margeaux accepted it graciously. Even if it didn’t have the medicinal properties Maya claimed, it was still darn good chocolate. Good for the soul.

  “This one can help the heart find its way. It’s especially helpful when you know what you want, but are afraid to go after it. Go ahead, take a bite.”

  With all the others looking on, Margeaux bit into the candy. It was the same chocolate with cinnamon, spices and rose petals that she’d eaten right before Henri had kissed her.

  It was challenging for Henri to take time off. Even during the slowest of times he found it hard to get away. He’d been called a workaholic more than a few times in his life with just cause.

  This may have been the first time he’d actually made it work so he could leave. But then again, it was the first time he’d had a good reason: Margeaux.

  During the time they’d been apart, he’d thrown his heart into his work, keeping an array of women, each more beautiful than the next, lined up for his pleasure. No one had the potential to become serious. Happily single, Henri had kept his little black book in constant rotation. He’d become a master at juggling and somehow managed to keep each and every woman in his life content and coming back for more, yet safely at arm’s length.

  Sydney had been the closest he’d come to settling, and he hadn’t even been able to go through with it with her. She was gone now, headed for Dallas. And though he wished her well, he’d never been more certain that they’d been all wrong for each other. He’d said it more than once but still maintained that she was a fabulous woman and deserved someone who would love her the way she deserved to be loved.

  It also struck him funny that Margeaux had showed up at exactly the right moment—of course, it had been for her father and not for him. But for a moment he wondered if his hesitancy with Sydney had been because he’d somehow sensed Margeaux’s return, because deep down he’d always known Margeaux had always been the one for him. He’d never loved anyone else.

  Never had and never would.

  Now, as he slammed the trunk on his loaded car, he got behind the wheel and drove away from his own home and toward Colbert’s to pick up Margeaux to make the trek to Avignon that Colbert had mandated.

  As he turned up the long, winding drive, he wanted nothing more than to go away with her, to get away from the hustle and demands of work. It had been wonderful meeting Margeaux’s friends. It was wonderful the way they’d stood by her, coming over here and staying longer than they’d planned after her father had passed.

  But he was equally glad that they’d said their goodbyes yesterday, that they’d gone back to Texas so that he and Margeaux could have the time they needed to reconcile the past with who they were now.

  He had a feeling that even though they’d grown, they were one and the same as they’d always been.

  The girls were gone.

  They’d left early that morning. After Margeaux had driven them to the airport, she’d come home to an empty house and that’s when the magnitude of exactly how alone in the world she was set in.

  She’d wasted a good hour wandering from room to room. Though she’d thought she’d reacquainted herself with the house when the girls were there, she hadn’t realized just how much of a stranger her childhood home was. It had seemed full of life when her friends’ laughter had colored the silence, but without them, the place seemed cold and unfamiliar. Like a person she used to know, but co
uldn’t remember why she’d once been so comfortable around her.

  Adjusting to being alone would simply take time. She knew that, though it didn’t make it any easier. So, after she’d packed, she’d gone into the garden to take pictures.

  No matter where she was, she felt the most at home behind the lens of her camera. When she’d discovered photography, she’d found a new window to the world. It was always the best approach to getting comfortable with new situations, and rediscovering old ones for that matter.

  Even so, she was glad when she heard Henri’s car tires crunch the gravel in the driveway outside.

  Margeaux left the garden, stashing her camera away as she walked back into the house. Her bags were packed and waiting by the front doors. Before he even had a chance to knock, she was wheeling her suitcase out onto the porch.

  “Ready to go?” Henri kissed her on both cheeks. Somehow she found the more formal greeting disappointing compared to the way he’d kissed her senseless the other night. It was the first time they’d been alone since then, and Henri had been warm toward her, but not with the same passion he’d shown that night. Had it simply been the wine talking? Two old friends seeking comfort in the familiarity of the way things used to be?

  Her thoughts drifted to what Maya had said about already having found her true love, and the thought made her stomach turn inside out. But the memory of Maya’s suggestion that she be truthful with him flat out made her stomach hurt.

  “I’m ready to get out of here, if that’s what you mean,” she said.

  A lot had happened since that kiss. Her father’s funeral, the tabloid article, and, of course, A.J., Pepper and Caroline had been there. Not exactly the circumstances to reconnect. But now they were alone and heading out of town. Together. If anything would test the waters, surely this would be it.

  The thought made her equal parts nervous and giddy.

  “Here, let me help you with that.” He picked up the bag. “While I’m putting this in the trunk, you might want to take a look at this.”

  He handed her a large envelope.

  “Pascal dropped it off this morning. I imagine it’s instructions from your father for this leg of the journey.”

  She opened it and glanced inside, only to see a series of smaller, sealed envelopes. Each one was labeled with instructions as to when they should be opened. Margeaux’s hands only trembled a tiny bit as she drew out the envelope labled “Begin.”

  Chapter Six

  They took the auto ferry across the channel that flowed between St. Michel and France. It was a relaxing ninety-minute ride during which they enjoyed a glass of wine and shared a fruit-and-cheese plate in the boat’s café.

  “I have news,” he said.

  “You do?” Margeaux absently picked up a piece of apple and bit into it. Her gaze was trained on Henri.

  He nodded. “Sydney turned in her letter of resignation. Her last day will be the day before we get back from Avignon.”

  Margeaux’s eyes widened and the thought that the news would make her so happy made Henri smile along with her.

  “Where is she going?”

  “To Texas, of all places. I think she’s going to get in touch with your friends.”

  Margeaux shrugged. “Well, at least she’ll know someone there.”

  “I’m sure she’ll become one of the girls in no time.”

  Margeaux toyed with the bitten apple slice, looking as if she wanted to say something.

  “What?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  Then it was almost as if the words bubbled up and out of her on their own. “I’m surprised she went. I really think she had feelings for you.”

  Henri shrugged. “I’ve made it perfectly clear where I stand on that issue. She’s a wonderful woman who deserves someone to return her feelings. I did not.”

  “Why not?”

  Because I love you. They were both adults. He should just be able to tell her how he felt. Say those words he could never say all those years ago.

  The boat rocked gently as the pregnant question swayed between them unanswered.

  The problem was Margeaux was fragile right now. With her father dying and this fact-finding mission thrust upon her, she had a lot to process right now. The last thing she needed was for him to put more pressure on her.

  He would tell her in good time. In the mean time, he would show her.

  “How do you explain love?” he asked. “Why is it that two people have chemistry and others don’t? If I knew the answers to those questions…”

  For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw disappointment register in her eyes. But then she turned and looked out the window, squinting at the vast ocean and he couldn’t be sure.

  “Did you know she will be working for Pepper’s father?” Margeaux asked. Actually, he did. And that was fine.

  “I guess it will be a win-win situation for everyone.”

  The boat docked in Nice, France. From there, it was a two-and-a-half hour drive to the outskirts of Avignon.

  She’d been rather quiet on the journey. So, he’d opted to give her space, rather than trying to get her to open up or hold her hand like he had at the funeral or kiss her like he had that night after the dinner.

  Even though he longed to do all those things.

  Just give her room. Everything will sort it self out in due time.

  It was after four o’clock when they finally reached Avignon’s rampart walls. The sun was falling in the western sky, and the city was beginning to take on a late-day golden hue as evening bathed the ancient buildings and cobblestone streets in light and shadow. It was perfect light for taking photos and Avignon would definitely be a photogenic city. But she didn’t have the heart to ask Henri to stop the car now so that she could disappear behind the camera. Photography was such a solitary endeavor, and right now, she wanted to be with him.

  The golden light would return tomorrow. This moment with Henri would never come again.

  Inside the city’s walls, they passed shops, homes and several bed-and-breakfasts. It was considerably colder and windier here than it was in St. Michel and bundled-up pedestrians and the occasional bicyclist hurried past with purpose.

  Since they were staying for two weeks, Henri had rented a two-bedroom house. It would be much more comfortable and private than a hotel or rented room. Colbert had left money for room, board and incidentals. He’d asked Henri to make the arrangements since he would be more familiar with Avignon than Margeaux would after being away.

  Henri turned off the busier avenue onto a quiet road, stopping the car on a narrow cobblestone street lined with mature trees and stone buildings. The house was set off from the street by hedges and a wrought-iron gate.

  As he and Margeaux got out of the car, pulled on their coats and walked toward the house, they saw a man in a black coat open the front door of the house and approach them from the other side of the gate.

  As Henri waited for him, he glanced at Margeaux and it struck him that for the next two weeks they would be living together. Granted they would have separate bedrooms, but it would be just the two of them in this house. It seemed so natural and it dawned on him that neither of them had questioned it.

  In many ways it was like a new beginning.

  The rental representative made quick order of giving them the cursory tour, collecting the deposit, giving them their keys and getting on his way. He left a business card with his name and number in case they needed anything.

  As far as Henri was concerned, he had everything he needed right here.

  The place smelled vaguely of lavender and mothballs, with hints of Margeaux’s cinnamon chewing gum. It was clean though cluttered with knickknacks and kitsch—lace doilies, porcelain figurines and paintings that looked as if they might have been done by a local artist. The paintings shared wall space with floral painted plates, rough-hewn needlepoint pieces and framed photographs.

  The decorating job was not to Henri’s taste, bu
t to him it was more beautiful than any other place on earth, because Margeaux was there.

  They left their bags in the entryway and decided to go out and look for a place to eat. They hadn’t eaten since the snack on the boat several hours ago, and they both agreed they were hungry.

  They chose a place around the corner from their house, right on the main road. Lace curtains adorned the café’s glass door. Henri started to pull open the door but a wild gust of wind caught it and whipped it open, making the string of bells on the glass sing and dance a frantic jig.

  “Whoa!” Henri called, laughing. “That’s some wind.”

  When he finally got a hold of it, he held open the door for Margeaux. She stepped inside and was immediately greeted by the delicious aroma of something savory. Her stomach growled in appreciation.

  It was warm and cozy inside the café, and a pretty middle-aged woman in a black shirt-waist dress appeared from a back room and greeted them with a cheery, “Bonjour! The mistral opened the door for you. Please don’t let him in.”

  She laughed.

  “Bonjour,” they called in return.

  “Sorry about that,” Henri added. “It got away from me.”

  “It’s no problem,” she said. “Happens all the time. Sit anywhere you’d like. I will bring menus to you.”

  They chose the table by the window and took off their coats because it was so warm in there. By the time they were settled, the woman had returned with menus, a breadbasket and a carafe of water. She placed the items in front of them with a practiced efficiency.

  Her warm smile was painted deep red and her eyes were the color of well-brewed coffee, a beautiful contrast to her ivory complexion. She had an ageless look.

  “Today’s special is boeuf bourguignon,” she said. “I’ll give you time to look at the menu, and I’ll be right back to take your order.”

  When she returned, Henri ordered the steak and fried potatoes and Margeaux the special. Since it was so cold outside, she needed something hearty to warm her from the inside out. The justification had her thinking about being warmed from the outside in by Henri. It would be nice to feel his arms around her.

 

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