He understood. It was the age-old dilemma of a small town: stay or go. Those on the edge of technological innovation never got a choice. They always had to go. “Tell me what I can do. What do you need?”
She took a few deep breaths, as if struggling for control. “I knew you would help. I knew, if I just asked, you would…” Her voice trailed away as her dark eyes filled with tears.
“Can you get a copy of the grant application? We could work from there.”
She nodded. “Sure can.”
He reached for his wallet, getting out his business card. “My email address is there. Send the application to me and I’ll find out where to go from there.” He shifted uncomfortably as Mrs. Joubert wiped her cheeks with both hands. “I’m glad I can help. It’s really nothing.”
Shaking her head, Mrs. Joubert reached up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You were always such a good boy, Paul. You’ve grown into a wonderful man. Your mama must be so proud.”
He patted her awkwardly on the arm and waved as she left the diner, still sniffing, although she was smiling.
The conversation in the diner had dropped while they were talking, and Paul looked up to see more than several pairs of curious eyes on him. He turned to the side, leaning against the wall, and took out his phone. He really didn’t want anyone asking what that was all about. In fact, he wished he’d remembered to tell Mrs. Joubert not to say anything. Paul stared unseeing at his phone’s screen, hoping the line would get significantly shorter in the next few minutes.
The door opened and Andy stepped through, glancing around the diner. His expression was a combination of determination and discomfort. “I’m guessing they’re not going to have my favorite organic, free-trade, Honduran coffee beans here.”
“Probably not.” Paul was relieved to see Andy. He was showered, shaved, and had on jeans and a button-up shirt with a tie. The guy looked like he wasn’t sure if he was on vacation or going to work. “I just ran into my sixth-grade teacher.”
Andy let out a bark of laughter. “Did she say she always knew you’d make it big?” It was a joke between them. Andy knew exactly what it was like to excel in a field. Everyone and their cousin wanted to say they called it way back when, all the way to infancy.
He nodded. “Actually, she did.” At Andy’s look of disgust, Paul held up a hand. “And she’s the only person who can say that honestly, besides my own mother.”
“Well, I’m glad you got to see her, then.” He shrugged, looking around the diner. “You’re going to get a lot more where that came from, the longer we stay here.”
“Yeah,” Paul said. “Also, I may have promised to build them a technology center for the elementary, middle, and high schools. And pay for the teachers they hire.”
Andy made a noise that was between a gasp and a cough. “Build a what? Where?” His face drained of color. “Oh, man. I knew letting you come back here was a mistake.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking absolutely horrified.
“I didn’t make that promise lightly.”
“No, I’m sure you meant every word of it. And I’m sure you plan on following through.” Andy blew out a breath. “This isn’t how it works, Paul. You don’t just start handing out money. The company should really set up a charity arm, and then you make sure the taxes are straight, and then you―”
“I know. It’s going to be a long process. And I didn’t just hand her a check.” He stared out at the tables of tourists and locals, watched the faces, sure for the first time in a long while that he was doing the right thing.
A waitress appeared and greeted them, her blond ponytail swinging from side to side as she led them to a tiny table near the back. Her pink-check dress was a little too big, as if she’d borrowed someone else’s uniform. She handed them menus. “I’m Jenny and I’ll be your waitress today. I’ll get you some water while you take a peek at the menus.”
“I think we already know what we want,” Paul said, smiling. He was going to die of starvation if he had to wait much longer. “We’ll both have whatever special comes with hash browns, bacon and eggs.”
She frowned, her pretty face scrunched up in confusion. “Sure, we can get you somethin’ like that. There’s the California special that starts with a braised romaine salad with fresh figs, or there’s the Mediterranean smoked ribs with Texas caviar.”
Paul took a moment to process those options. That didn’t sound like the diner food he remembered from his childhood. “Anything with grits, bacon, hash browns, eggs?” he tried again.
She smiled brightly. “I’ll just have the chef fix you some plates up, ‘kay?”
“Thanks a lot.” As she walked away, Paul shook his head. “Braised romaine with figs? Weird.”
“Sounds good to me. And no weirder than you promising to build a few computer labs, complete with teachers,” Andy said.
“About that… I had an epiphany,” Paul said.
Andy’s brows went up.
“See, I went into By The Book this morning and―”
“Oh, boy.” Andy interrupted. “I knew it had to do with her. I saw the way you were looking at her yesterday. Isn’t there a rule about getting involved with the landlady?”
“No, it really isn’t about her. Just let me explain.” Paul held up a hand. “I was looking for directions and then her ex-boyfriend came in and we got into a fight―”
“You what? Why?” Andy looked a little panicked.
“He insinuated something about Alice and my fist decided it didn’t like his face.” Paul held up one hand, looking at his swollen knuckles.
Andy closed his eyes for a second. “And this was your problem, how?”
He didn’t have any answer to that question.
“I’ll call the lawyers when we get back to the apartment. They’ll need to know about this in case there’s a lawsuit,” Andy said almost to himself.
“So, after that, I was walking down here and this kid stopped me and talked about how Commander Lorfan was obsessed with revenge. I realized it sounded a lot like myself,” Paul said.
“What? Wait, did you know Alice before you met her yesterday? Like back in high school or something?”
“No. She’s the bookseller who wrote to the Browning Wordsworth Keats site yesterday, the one I was emailing on the plane. But that’s unrelated.”
Andy’s eyes went wide. He said nothing now, just waited for the rest of the story.
“About Alice, I didn’t know how everything would go. Really. And the realtor had just said the apartment was in the historic district so I had no idea that we’d be living upstairs with her.” He paused as Jenny came by with ice water. She shot him a glance as she heard the last few words of his sentence.
As soon as she was gone, Andy spoke. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say this whole thing was a set up. It’s too coincidental. What are the odds? Either you’re the luckiest guy on the planet, or the unluckiest. I’m afraid to find out which it is.” He shook his head. “Okay, your secret identity has been exchanging love letters with our landlady who hates you in real life.”
“Not love letters,” Paul protested. “Just book talk.” And he wasn’t convinced Alice hated him. Maybe intensely disliked him.
“I still don’t know what this has to do with your sudden crisis,” Andy said.
“Epiphany,” Paul said. “This kid understood that the story was central to a good game. You know a lot of people think it’s only the graphics that make a game successful, but you and I and every serious gamer knows the story is crucial,” Paul said. He had Andy’s attention now. Moving to Natchitoches for two months was a crazy idea and dragging Andy along was even crazier, but Paul knew who was the heart of ScreenStop. Andy believed that technology had to be as beautiful and distinct as possible, with the attention to detail only a consummate craftsman gave. And when they created a game, above all else, Andy believed in the story.
“Go on,” Andy said.
“He was talking about how Reena took down Command
er Lorfan with the trap that promised revenge, knowing he would take the bait.” Paul shifted the water glass in his hands, watching the rings of condensation on the table overlap. “I realized that I am the Commander.”
Andy made a noise in the back of his throat.
Paul hurried on. “I’m doomed if I don’t get a handle on my need for revenge. I came here to show off to all these people who thought I wouldn’t amount to anything. I wanted to rub my success in their faces, make sure they saw how rich I am, how I don’t need them and their bigotry.”
“And how’s that going so far?” Andy gave him a sly look that was just short of a smirk.
“Pretty well. You know I got everything I wanted without even trying: the site, the building permit, everything.”
“And that’s a problem? I don’t see why we have to try to fix what’s not broken.”
Paul leaned forward. “If it’s for the wrong reason, then it could be a very big problem.” He thought back to Tater, the way he described the Commander. “Right now, I’m the guy everybody loves. I’m invincible. But give it a few weeks and I could be knee deep in small-town politics because I’m obsessed with being right.”
Andy nodded. “Okay, I can see it. So, you’re over it? We’re going home and just coming back for the opening?” He took a sip of his water. “I can’t say I’m complaining. This humidity is unbearable. I feel like I just stepped out of the shower, all the time.”
“No, my epiphany wasn’t that I shouldn’t care. It’s that I need to put my bitterness to better use.”
Andy raised an eyebrow. “Like building computer labs for all the schools.”
“Right.” Paul looked up, glancing around the crowded diner. He’d been walking around, his defenses up, waiting to run into people he used to hate and who had kept him from exceling. Now he looked to see if there was someone he used to know that needed help.
Andy sat back and let out a long breath. “I’ve always admired you, Paul. I admire your work ethic and your fire. You were determined to prove everybody wrong and it drove you to study the hardest, work eighteen-hour days, find a way around a problem when everyone said it couldn’t be done. I could count on you to never give up even when our CEO left us in the lurch, and our first big launch was ruined by that massive bug.”
“You think I’ve lost my fire? You think I’m going soft now?”
Andy shook his head. “No. Just the opposite. My dad worked two jobs to help put me through MIT. When I graduated I thought he’d be proud because I’d done what he never got to do, get a college degree. One night I asked him if he thought about those high school teachers who wouldn’t help him apply for college. I was sure he’d say he pictured them every time he got four hours of sleep or worked the graveyard shift.”
Paul could feel a pulse pounding in his head. He knew just what Andy’s dad had said. Paul thought of all those people who’d stood in his way. Every time he was too tired to go through some code that wasn’t working, he thought of them. And he gave it one more shot. Paul didn’t want those people to win. Even now, he could bring up the memory of their names and faces at the merest suggestion.
Andy leaned forward. “He told me he never gave them a second thought. The only thing that got him out of bed in the middle of the night was the idea of me getting to go to college.”
The words sank deep, resonating with truth. Paul stared down at his glass.
“Bitterness can get you pretty far in life. But love always takes you farther,” Andy said.
“You’re a wise man, Andy.” Paul heard the roughness in his own voice and cleared his throat.
“One who’s proud to call you friend,” he said. He reached out a hand and gave Paul a fist bump. “And now that we’ve streamlined your new plan to take over the city, I hope the food is on its way. I’m going to start eating the napkins soon.”
Paul snorted. Neither of them enjoyed heart-to-heart talks. This was about as deep as they’d ever get. But it felt good to know Andy understood.
Paul thought of what was coming that evening, that he’d decided to tell Alice he was Browning Wordsworth Keats. It would be perfect. He was sorting things out, making a new start. He opened his mouth to tell Andy, but the waitress arrived, bearing plates of hot food.
By the time he’d worked his way through half the sausage links and all the hash browns, Paul thought maybe he’d wait a little longer to drop that particular bomb on his friend. A guy could only handle so much drama in one day.
Chapter Thirteen
The march of science and technology does not imply growing intellectual complexity in the lives of most people. It often means the opposite.—Thomas Sewell
Alice pulled her hair back from her face and frowned at her reflection. The music was as loud in her bedroom as it was outside on the stage outside, with the first band starting off the night with a bang. She turned her head, squinting at her reflection. Mamere always said it was better to tame her curls than let them loose, but Alice felt as if her whole life had been spent trying to tame the untamable just because her grandmother had said so. She secured the top in a loose bun and let the rest fall around her shoulders. It wasn’t a great style for dancing with the swing and jitterbug moves, but she didn’t care. Not tonight.
Alice passed over the tube of beige lipstick and uncapped a bright red. Tonight was one of the few nights where she could really dress up, and it wasn’t for the shop or for a date. This festival connected with the deepest parts of her family heritage and she honored it the only way she could. She would overcome her introverted self, head to that dance floor, and show the tourists how real zydeco dancing was done. Her childhood friend Julien Burel would be there, along with his four brothers, and probably every one of his cousins. Alice never longed to be the center of attention, but tonight she would step onto that stage and dance for every member of her family that couldn’t.
She took a small photo from the front cover of her Bible and held it up. Mama and Papa smiled up from a porch swing, their arms wrapped around each other. Alice stared at their faces, letting their happiness ease the ache in her chest. They’d had a good life, surrounded by two of the largest Creole families in Cane River. Alice remembered family reunions that went on for days and days, with music and food to rival the festival that blared outside. She remembered her mama’s green eyes and her papa’s singing voice. She remembered how they whispered together in the kitchen and how her mama blushed when they got caught kissing. Alice wondered if they’d known how blessed they were, or if it was just normal life for them. Day by day, doing what came naturally, loving each other, loving their kids.
When they’d died in that accident, something had changed. Her mama’s family had blamed her papa’s people for letting him drink too much that night. Her papa’s family had blamed her mama for saying she had to get home to her babies instead of staying the night with his folks.
Alice closed her eyes against the memory of the knock at her mamere’s screen door. It had been almost morning, the pale light of dawn filtering through the sheer curtains. Her brothers always got to sleep on the roll-away cots upstairs while Alice got the divan in the living room. She was the littlest and didn’t mind curling up tight so her feet didn’t dangle off the end. The screen was locked, but the door was left open to the night breeze. Alice remembered the creak of the boards as she tiptoed to the door, then the sound of her bare feet as she took off running for mamere when she saw the policeman through the screen.
In time, her brothers were flung far and wide across the country, as if they’d sat down and decided to each take a corner. And by the year Alice turned seventeen, she was the only one left at home with a grandma too old to make sure she was being raised up right. Mr. Perrault and his wife became her family. The bookstore became her refuge. For an angry girl who felt invisible and forgotten, they became her saving grace.
Alice gently placed the picture back in her Bible and set it by her bed. She touched the rings at her neck, feeling the warmth of
the gold under her fingers. She was a quiet woman who didn’t like to leave her store, who preferred her kitties to people. But tonight was different. She would dance tonight for her mama, for her easy laugh and deep green eyes. She would dance for her papa, for his singing voice and how he had an easier time speaking with French tourists than his cousins from Georgia. She would dance for her brothers, who never came home, and for her mamere who knew she was sad but couldn’t remember why. She would dance for the two families torn apart by a terrible decision. She would dance for what was left.
***
“Hey, you think this shirt is okay?” Paul smoothed down the white, Armani dress shirt and stood in front of Andy.
Andy looked up from his reading, confusion on his face. “You’re picking out clothes for Monday’s meeting? I thought you were scanning in that book of Christina Rossetti poetry.”
“I already did. Maybe the blue striped Lauren? That one is tailored. And you think tucked or untucked?” Paul frowned down at himself. “I thought I’d wear jeans, but maybe I should get the Westwood suit. With a nice belt. And the Gucci shoes. Or maybe just the slacks and the vest?”
Andy put down his book. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention a clothing brand before.”
“Maybe they don’t all go together. Should the shoes be the same brand as the pants?” Paul felt himself starting to sweat. It didn’t help that it was still at least eighty degrees and the humidity wrapped his skin like damp towel.
“What’s going on? Are we getting visitors?” Andy tilted his head. “Not that girlfriend who giggled all the time. I’m convinced she must’ve had some sort of compulsive disorder.”
“No, nobody’s coming up here. I’m just headed out to the festival.” Paul rubbed his hands together. His palms were sweating. He had no idea how he was going to dance with Alice without her noticing.
“And you’re just going out there alone?” Andy crossed his arms.
Paul shrugged. “I won’t be out late. I’ve got to be up for church in the morning. You already said you could hear it just fine inside.”
Along the Cane River: Books 1-5 in the Inspirational Cane River Romance Series Page 14