by Patricia Kay
Nicole constantly marveled at how low Julianne’s self-esteem could be. If either of them should have low self-esteem, it should be Nicole. Julianne was educated. She’d graduated from Louisiana State University with honors, and she’d been third in her class at Tulane Law School. Nicole, in contrast, had only a high school education. Julianne came from a well-to-do family who patronized the arts, who read extensively, who were sophisticated and well traveled. Nicole’s family, although she loved them and wouldn’t trade them for anyone else, were basically very ordinary people. Her oldest brother Neil, had been the only one of them to go to college, and he’d only gone for two years. And again, except for Neil, none of them were readers or travelers or interested in any kind of highbrow pursuits.
The Cantrelles were physical people. They liked to eat, to make love, to dance the spirited dances of their Acadian forefathers at the fais-dodos. They liked lots of children and noise and big family gatherings. The women liked to cook and gossip and take care of their men. The men liked to hunt and fish and take care of their women.
Julianne had never done anything to embarrass her family. Nicole had.
Yet, for all this, Julianne seemed to envy Nicole.
Nicole couldn’t figure it out.
* * *
Nicole didn’t find the time to check the Louisiana Bar Association roster until late in the afternoon. Seventeen Cantrelles were listed throughout the state, but three of them were her relatives, so she only typed fourteen names on Jack’s list. She smiled when she saw her Uncle Justin’s name. Outside of the members of her immediate family, her Uncle Justin was her favorite.
Of course, the fact that he and her Aunt Lisette had gladly welcomed her when she was pregnant with Aimee had something to do with her feelings. But she had always felt especially close to them. They were both warm, giving people, and she enjoyed being around them.
Nicole thought it was a darned shame they’d never had any children of their own. The two of them were meant to be parents. Instead, they’d lavished their generosity on Nicole and her sister and brothers as well as on the dozens of other Cantrelle cousins.
It was also because of her uncle that she had gotten the training to land a good-paying legal secretary’s position in New Orleans. Although Justin, at sixty-nine, was now retired from the practice of law, he had still been working four years ago when she had come to stay with him and her aunt, and he had put Nicole to work. She had learned so much in the year she spent with them—for they’d insisted she stay on until Aimee was six months old—that she’d had no trouble at all finding a job in New Orleans.
Remembering that peaceful hiatus and her uncle and aunt’s thoughtfulness made Nicole resolve to call them over the weekend. It had been awhile since she’d driven up to Lafayette to see them. Maybe she and Aimee could go soon.
Finally the day was over. Making sure she had the list of Cantrelle attorneys to give Jack, Nicole cleared off her desk. She dawdled as she gathered her things. Butterflies had taken over her stomach as she thought about seeing Jack in just a few minutes.
When she could stall no longer, she waved goodbye to her co-workers. Three minutes later she opened the front gate, half hoping Jack wouldn’t be there.
He was there.
Just like the day before, he leaned against his car, his arms folded across his chest, his right ankle crossed over his left. He wore boots, jeans and a light blue sweater. He had the rugged, outdoors look she’d always associated with Texans. The late-afternoon sun fired his hair with scarlet, and his eyes glinted ocean-blue, deep and mysterious.
Nicole felt as if someone had squeezed all the breath out of her. She hoped he wouldn’t see how nervous she was.
“Hi,” he said, giving her a half smile.
“Hi.” She tried to smile but couldn’t. She walked closer.
He straightened, reached for the door handle, but avoided her eyes.
He’s as nervous as I am! This knowledge helped to calm her. If Jack was nervous, that meant he at least cared how she felt. Now she could admit what had really been bothering her: that he, like Mark, did not respect her, that what had happened between her and Jack the night before would have been of so little importance to him that he wouldn’t care how she felt.
She lowered herself into the passenger seat of the car.
When he was seated beside her, he inserted the key in the ignition, then hesitated. Hand still on the key, he turned to look at her. “Are you angry with me?”
“No! Of course not!”
“Are you sure?” His eyes shone with concern.
“I’m sure.” The last of her embarrassment melted away. Knowing that he didn’t think less of her, knowing that what she thought and felt was important to him—made all the difference. She smiled. “I’m very sure.”
His answering smile warmed her heart. He reached over and squeezed her hand, then started the car and they were on their way.
* * *
Everything was going to be all right, Jack thought. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t going to tell him to get lost. He could feel the relief sliding through him. “Did you have a chance to check the bar association roster for me?” he asked.
“Yes. I’ve got the list in my purse.” She patted the enormous tote bag she never seemed to be without.
“Along with about a hundred other things, I’d guess,” he teased. “I’ve never understood why women need so many things. All I carry is I.D., money, a comb, a handkerchief and my keys.”
She grinned. “We women need slightly more than that.”
“Such as?”
“Oh, let’s see.” She began ticking items off on her fingers. “Wallet, coin purse, checkbook, tissues, unmentionables, makeup, comb, brush, hair lifter, hair spray, perfume, a notebook, a pen, a flashlight, keys, I.D., breath spray...” She opened the bag and looked inside. “My can of Mace, nail clippers, nail file, nail polish, an extra pair of panty hose in case I get a run, my lunch, a bottle of aspirin, my collapsible toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss...” She chuckled, pulling out a bottle. “Mineral water.”
“Mineral water!”
“I believe in being prepared.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Is that it?”
She was struggling to keep a straight face. “Nope. I also have a book in here.” She lifted it out—a paperback novel with a shiny cover. “And a cup, my coupon container, my address book, a sewing kit...” As she talked she took these items out of her bag. “I’ve also got a screwdriver, a bottle opener, a pair of scissors, safety pins...what else? A bag of pretzels for Aimee... a half-eaten box of raisins... Aimee likes raisins... gum, one of Aimee’s hair barrettes...” She frowned. “Now what’s this? Oh, I know! It’s part of a toy.”
“Nicole, this is ridiculous! How do you ever carry all that junk?”
She gave him an indignant look. “Junk? This isn’t junk. These are the necessities of life!”
They both laughed as she refilled the voluminous tote bag, and Jack fully relaxed for the first time that day. He was grateful to her for making it so easy on them both.
His relaxed state lasted until he reached Nicole’s street. Then she said softly, “Jack, pull over for a minute, will you?”
He gave her a quizzical look, tried to quell his sudden uneasiness.
“I want to talk to you, and I don’t want to be sitting in the driveway where Margaret and Caldwell can see us and wonder what we’re doing,” she said.
He pulled over to the curb and cut the engine. The early-evening stillness settled around them. He turned toward Nicole.
She ducked her head for a moment, then raised her chin and looked at him. Her dark eyes gleamed in the shadowy light of a street lamp a few feet away. “When you asked me if I was angry, and I said I wasn’t, I meant it, but...”
He ignored the sudden tightness in his chest and kept his voice light. “I had a feeling there was going to be a but. ”
She sighed. “This is hard to say, because maybe I’
m making an assumption that isn’t true, but... well, the only way I can continue to help you is if we keep our relationship strictly business.”
“Are you going to keep helping me?”
“I want to, but I won’t be able to if.. .if anything like last night happens again.”
Jack sighed. He knew what she was saying made sense. Hadn’t he been saying the same thing to himself all day long? Why was it, then, that he didn’t feel relieved that she had reached the same conclusion? Why this curious, hollow, let-down feeling? “Am I allowed to ask why you feel this way?” he said stiffly, knowing he was being unfair, knowing she was right, yet unable to help himself.
Now it was her turn to sigh. When she answered, there was only the barest trace of a tremor in her voice—the only giveaway that she was the least bit agitated. “Before I answer that question, will you answer one of mine?”
“All right.”
“Do you like your job?”
“I love my job.”
“What do you like best about it?”
Jack hesitated, but her honesty with him compelled him to be honest with her. “The stimulation, the challenge, the travel, the excitement and adventure.”
“Jack,” she said softly. “You and I are poles apart in what we want out of life, and I think you know that. There’s no room in my life for a casual love affair. I don’t want to get too deeply involved with someone who’s going to move on to the next adventure as soon as he finishes his business in New Orleans. I don’t want to get hurt again.”
Jack was ashamed of himself. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I’m sorry.”
She immediately turned toward him, touched his forearm. “No, don’t blame yourself. What happened just... well, it just happened.”
Jack yielded to the impulse to cover her fingers with his own. A sharp sense of loss stabbed him. “I hope we can still be friends,” he said, his voice husky with regret.
“I want that, too. More than anything.” She gently pulled her hand away.
His skin still tingled from her touch. He wished... he wasn’t sure what he wished. He wanted to tell her how much he admired her, how much he wished things could be different between them, but he didn’t say anything.
Because Nicole was right.
They were poles apart.
Anything other than friendship between them would just be asking for trouble.
Chapter 7
The weather turned cool again, and some of the leaves began to change color. But Nicole didn’t have much time to enjoy the nice weather because for the rest of that week and into the following week she had to work overtime every night. Julianne had a full caseload, and in addition to doing Julianne’s work, Nicole had been assigned a new associate attorney—Barry Sylvester. She complained to Julianne, who, in turn, complained to Claude Villac, the office administrator, but he was adamant.
“We’ve got a hiring freeze on now, and Nicole is the only secretary, besides mine, of course, who isn’t already handling more than one attorney’s work. Use your paralegal more.”
“I felt like telling the old geezer that there was a darned good reason why I’ve had you exclusively, and that’s because I’ve got the heaviest caseload!” Julianne said, voice spewing disgust, as she repeated the conversation to Nicole. “I’ll make it up to you, chere, ” Julianne mimicked, in a perfect imitation of Mr. Villac’s French accent—an accent he cultivated to remind everyone of his roots as a descendant of an aristocratic and influential Creole family who had helped shape New Orlean’s destiny. “And they’d darned well better! When my name comes up for senior partner, they’d better remember who’s bringing in the most money around here!”
Julianne was the best trial lawyer in the firm. Before hiring her, Fortier, Montegut, and Villac had rarely handled any criminal cases. Now, although the old guard decried the notoriety some of Julianne’s cases had brought to them, all had to privately admit that the income and referrals that came as a result of her skill and hard work were welcome.
But Nicole had her doubts that Julianne would ever be named a senior partner. No woman had ever made senior partner in the firm’s one-hundred-and-sixty-four-year history.
“He did say,” Julianne added with a grimace, “that the situation was only temporary. That as soon as the hiring freeze is lifted, they’ll get someone else to do Sylvester’s secretarial work.” She sighed. “And I guess I will have to use Francesca more.” She made a face, and Nicole couldn’t help laughing. Francesca Lamont, the paralegal Julianne shared with another of the junior partners, was the office joke. “Perhaps you could teach her how to file,” was Julianne’s parting shot.
Nicole laughed again, resigned to her fate. She knew that if Julianne hadn’t been able to budge Mr. Villac, no one could, because even though Mr. Villac might not vote for a partnership for Julianne, it was obvious to everyone in the firm that he had a soft spot in his heart for her.
Besides, there was a silver lining to Nicole’s overloaded schedule. Because she was so busy, she hadn’t had much time to think about Jack.
She hadn’t seen him in nine days—since the previous Tuesday—although they’d talked several times by phone. He had spent the previous week following up leads connected with the fourteen attorneys whose names she’d provided him, and he’d just gotten back to New Orleans the previous evening. She and Aimee had been snuggled up together on one of the love seats when Jack had called to let her know he was back and to report on his progress.
“So it was another dead end?” Nicole asked, trying to ignore the pleasure she felt at hearing his voice.
“Yeah. It turns out this guy did have a daughter, but the ages don’t match up. If he would have only agreed to talk to me on the phone, I could’ve spared myself a trip to Shreveport.”
Nicole could hear the weariness in his voice. “You’re discouraged, aren’t you?”
“It’s hard not to be. The thing is, I can’t spend much more time on this. My leave is technically up on Monday, although I called my boss earlier today and told him I wouldn’t be back to work until after Thanksgiving.”
Nicole’s heart plummeted at his words. She tried to keep her dismay from showing in her voice. “So you’ll be going back to Houston,” she said quietly, admitting to herself for the first time since she’d said she wanted a ‘strictly business’ relationship, that there had always been a glimmer of hope that somehow, something would happen to allow her to explore her growing feelings for Jack.
“What... what are you planning to do tomorrow?” she said.
“I still have five attorneys to check out. I’ll get back on that.”
For a moment they both fell silent. Then Jack said, “Well, I guess I should let you go. You’re probably busy.” There was a note of wistfulness in his voice, Nicole thought, or was that just wishful thinking on her part?
“I was reading to Aimee,” she admitted, reluctant to say goodbye, “but I was almost finished.”
There was an awkward silence. Then he cleared his throat and said, “I’ve missed seeing you.”
Nicole’s heart contracted. Oh, Jack, I’ve missed you, too. Good resolutions forgotten, she said, “You sound like a man in need of company.” Ignoring her inner voice, which was telling her she’d be sorry, she plunged on. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow? I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.”
“Julianne—my boss—and I are planning to go to a favorite haunt of mine—a Cajun restaurant-dance hall called Michaul’s. It’s a great place with great food. Would you like to go with us?”
“That sounds like fun. But I don’t dance.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s fun to watch. There’re a lot of regulars who go, and they can really dance. Do you like Cajun music?”
“I love it.”
Nicole smiled, glad she’d asked him. He needed to relax and have some fun and forget about everything. She was a big girl. She could handle one evening in his company. There was no harm in b
eing kind to him. Besides, she told herself, Julianne would get a kick out of meeting him.
“What time do you want me to pick you up?” he asked.
“Oh, you don’t have to come out here to get me. We’ll meet you there.”
“It’s no trouble.”
Nicole gave in with no further argument. She ignored the small voice inside that said, now, this isn’t a good idea. She refused to examine her real motives. She was just being a friend. Jack was lonely. He was discouraged. He didn’t know anyone else in New Orleans. She’d do the same for anyone.
But after they’d hung up, and she’d gone back to Aimee and the Dr. Seuss book she’d been reading to her, Nicole admitted that even though all those reasons she’d given herself were true, there was another, more compelling reason she’d invited Jack to go out with them the following evening.
She couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing him again.
* * *
Friday dragged.
Barry Sylvester, who was turning out to be a real pain-in-the-neck with his eager-beaver, who-can-I-impress mentality and his supreme confidence that his law degree made him at least twice as intelligent as Nicole, drove her crazy the entire morning.
He hovered over her desk, asked her five times if she’d finished the Houghton brief and made her redo a letter three times—because he changed his mind about what he wanted to say. The last time he had told her she would have to redo the letter “because I’ve made some corrections”—and made it sound as if she was the one who had made a mistake—she nearly hit him.
Finally, just before noon, Nicole marched into Julianne’s office, shut the door firmly and said through gritted teeth, ‘If someone doesn’t get Barry off my back, I may kill him.”
Julianne pursed her lips, studied Nicole’s furious expression for a few seconds, then stood. She sighed. “Okay. Tell him I want to see him.”
Five minutes later, a red-faced Barry emerged from Julianne’s office. He sent Nicole a murderous look, but she didn’t care. Barry was a jerk. He had a lot of growing up to do.