Alice couldn’t imagine wanting to walk away from this place and pretend to be something she wasn’t, but she could see how a person could want to come home. “Maybe New York City isn’t everything he thought it would be.”
“Maybe so.” Mrs. Olivier looked up at the sky. “I hope Paul hurries. It looks to be comin’ up a cloud.”
Alice looked up at the sky, watching the thunder clouds building on the horizon. “We’ll be getting a good storm this afternoon, I’m guessing.”
“Love and thunder. They always go together.” Mrs. Olivier winked at her.
“I’ve never heard that phrase.” Alice refused to take the bait. Paul’s mother was going to be nosy after all. She was just easing up to it.
“No? My Papa used to say that. He’d rock on the porch and watch the afternoon storm, and every time he’d say ‘love and thunder always go together.’ He knew a lot about love, bein’ married to my mama for sixty years.”
Alice rubbed her arms and wished Paul would get there already.
“He said he could tell a man in love at fifty paces. Didn’t matter the age or the circumstances. It was something in the way he acted.” She tipped her head to the side. “I think I might have inherited that gift. At least where my boy is concerned.”
Alice almost swallowed her tongue in surprise. “Oh, no. It’s not like that.” Alice held up a hand. “We just met.”
“That’s no account. Love doesn’t care how long you been knowin’ each other. But are you saying you don’t have feelings for my boy? Maybe you were expecting something else when you kissed him t’other night?”
Awkward. Alice would have been offended except that Mrs. Olivier’s tone was light. There was no condemnation, just a big dose of sass and a hint of teasing. But she still didn’t want to talk about it. Not on the steps of her church with all her neighbors milling around. “Mrs. Olivier―” she started.
“Call me Rosie,” she interrupted.
“Okay, Rosie, I know Paul is wonderful.” Alice let out a sigh. “He’s charming and really handsome and everyone loves him. Apparently, he’s also some sort of genius, too.”
This time, Mrs. Olivier waited patiently for her to finish.
“But there are so many differences between us.”
“He’s Creole like you. That should cover a lot of differences,” Mrs. Olivier said.
Alice bit her lip. “Yes, fine. He’s Creole and a great dancer and a good Catholic guy and protective and generous and everything I’ve ever looked for. I’m sure he’ll make a wonderful husband and a really great dad and―”
She broke off suddenly. Mrs. Olivier was looking somewhere behind her and Alice had a terrible suspicion that she wasn’t looking at Paul pulling up to the curb.
Alice turned slowly, afraid to see what she already knew. Paul stood right behind her, his expression a mix of total surprise and something else she couldn’t quite read.
He cleared his throat. “I tried to get your attention but you all seemed to be having such a good chat.”
Alice closed her eyes for a moment. He’d heard all of that and probably thought she was sending out wedding invitations. She couldn’t imagine how many women had tried the same thing. One kiss and then they’re picking bridesmaids. Well, not her. She certainly wasn’t looking for someone who lived in New York City and was constructing the ugliest building the historic district had ever seen, while seducing the nation’s young people with mindless video games that contributed nothing to their development. But that wasn’t anything she could say in front of the man’s mother. Even Alice had her limits.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling her sweetest smile, and following his direction toward the car. She could almost feel Paul and his mother exchanging looks behind her back. There was nothing she could do about it now, but as soon as possible, she’d excuse herself back to her own apartment. Nothing good could come from this. Especially since she’d resolved that Monday was the day she would file a complaint with the city over the construction of Paul’s new store. If she could get them to stop construction, even for a few weeks, he might just decide it was better to take his business to some other town.
***
Paul flopped backward onto his bed, arm over his eyes. The lunch had gone well, surprisingly. His mother and Alice seemed to get along just fine. They spent most of their time in the kitchen talking about food and avoiding him. Well, his mother kept trying to drag him into the conversation, but he stayed out in the living room with Andy.
Right before they had sat down to eat, a thunderstorm hit and the power flickered. Alice didn’t seem to think anything of it, but Paul wondered how old the electrical system was. He hadn’t wanted to ask her right then, but outdated electrical could be downright dangerous. The storm passed, Alice left for her own apartment, his mama left with a promise to come back in a few days, and Andy passed out on the couch in a food coma. Paul was left to his own thoughts. He paced the living room and watched the storm pass outside.
Everything I’ve ever looked for, I’m sure he’ll make a wonderful husband and a really great dad. Alice’s words kept echoing around in his head. Of course that sentence was going to continue with a but that included every detail she absolutely hated about him. Despite that, those words settled somewhere in his heart and he couldn’t shake them loose. He got a lot of compliments from women, but none of them had been particularly interested in whether he was a good person or if he’d make a solid partner and father. It seemed as if Alice didn’t care at all that he owned a huge company and had more money than almost everyone in the country.
Now hours later, he sat up and rubbed his face. It had been a long time since anyone thought those things didn’t matter. A few days ago he would have been outraged. He’d worked years to build his company, missing out on vacations and birthdays, putting in the long nights and most weekends. His fortune represented the entire decade of his twenties. But if he stripped away the company and the money, who was he? And that was why he sat on his bed in a darkened room at two in the morning, unable to sleep. He didn’t want to be that guy who didn’t have much to offer the world. He wanted to be the kind of person Alice saw when she looked at him.
He stared down at his bare feet. He’d considered it a victory to get permission to build in the historic district, right in the middle of all the fancy buildings. It was his way of sticking it to everyone who looked down on him in high school, every person who ignored his mother when she went into one of those old stores, clearly not the kind of person who could shop there every week.
Paul stood and walked to the window, looking out at the river. The moonlight shone in the ripples of the water and the trees were like dark sentries, unmoving and ominous. He’d told Andy that his epiphany was about revenge and how it would eat him up from the inside, making him weak and doomed to failure. But maybe there was more to it. He needed to let go of the need for revenge, put his energy into helping the city, and then further. Not just in this town, but everywhere. Christmas donations to the Red Cross were fine, but throwing money at a charity corporation once a year didn’t mean he was making a real difference.
A plan began to take shape in the back of his mind and he opened his laptop, searching out contact information from several sites. As he clicked into his email, he saw another message from Alice. Paul forced himself to send the short note to the recipients he’d chosen before he opened her letter.
Dear BWK,
I hope you had a good Sunday. I spent the day thinking of that line of poetry from Gerard Manley Hopkins:
I have asked to be
where no storms come,
where the green swell
is in the havens dumb
and out of the swing of the sea.
Do you ever feel this way? As if you need a place “out of the swing of the sea”? I never have until now.
Did you enjoy the zydeco festival? I’m sorry again that we weren’t able to meet. I hope you practice Alexander Pope’s ninth beatitude. It’s
the safest way to live.
I’d like to be peaceful, I think I’m doomed to follow Louisa May Alcott’s path of resolving “to take Fate by the throat and shake a living out of her”.
Your friend,
Alice
Paul let out a chuckle. But his heart dropped as he read the note again and let the poetry sink in deep. Alice felt like she was being tossed around, a piece of flotsam on the ocean of life.
Dear Alice,
I enjoy imagining you with your hands at Fate’s throat. She has been kind to me, overall, but I’ve heard she can be an uncompromising, vengeful slacker, reluctant to give what is due. I whole-heartedly approve of your current plan of action.
The zydeco festival was pure excitement, from start to finish. I didn’t stay long. I’m afraid Pope’s ninth beatitude of expecting nothing and never being disappointed didn’t apply to me, though.
I, too, long for a place out of the swing of the sea, but... Do you know how Walt Whitman said that we should let our soul stand cool and composed before a million universes? I’ve never been that type. On the outside, perhaps. But inside I’ve never been able to stand unmoved before any beauty or deep emotion. And so we end up like Goethe, who said the soul who sees beauty may sometimes walk alone. Or live out in the swing of the sea, in our case.
Your friend,
BWK
Paul sent the email and closed the laptop, setting it on his desk. He crossed to the bed and dropped onto the covers, staring up at the ceiling. That probably made no sense at all. He was exhausted and his brain seemed to be tied up in knots. He wished he could shelter Alice, give her the peaceful life she wanted.
He leaned back against his pillows and shut his eyes. Maybe this was all he would ever get, late night email with poetry sprinkled over it like bitter chocolate shavings. He should just accept that reality.
His phone dinged and he rolled over, picking it up from his nightstand. A touch of the screen and Alice’s response popped up.
Dear BWK,
Are you back home now? You must live on the West Coast. It’s very late here. I can’t sleep. There are so many worries tonight that I didn’t have a week ago. Some are personal, some have to do with my store. All of them (except one) are probably silly in comparison to most problems. Like the fact that I need to get an alarm system installed and I don’t know anything about them. I hate high tech things and I’m afraid I’m going to lock myself out of my own house.
As for the one problem that’s not so silly, you know that I inherited this bookstore. Well, the previous owner’s niece has filed a lawsuit against me, in hopes of receiving half the estate.
Paul bolted upright in bed. Alice was being sued?
We both know you can’t split a bookstore. (I don’t even share shelf space.) If Mr. Perrault had wanted to give her the store, I think he would have. But he’s not here so he can’t tell them that. There’s nothing to be done, really. Just waiting and wondering if the judge will decide this stranger deserves half of the store she’s never seen.
I’m trying to be “like barley bending in low fields by the sea” as Sara Teasdale wrote, but I’m afraid I’ve never learned how. It’s always served me better to be unyielding, hard as stone. But under all this pressure, I feel as if I’m flint, ready to splinter into a thousand sharp blades.
Your friend,
Alice
Paul sat still, resisting the urge to slip on his shoes and walk down the hallway to Alice’s apartment. He knew she was awake and he knew she would answer. But unfortunately, Alice hadn’t told Paul about the lawsuit. She told BWK. So, even though he felt close to her, she had chosen to share this trial with someone she’d never met.
He pulled out his e-reader and opened a book he’d uploaded a few weeks ago. In moments, he found what he was looking for.
Dear Alice,
When you get your alarm system, remember two things: choose the one you think is the simplest because if you’re not comfortable with it, you won’t use it. And when you get the system installed, use it every time. That’s all the wisdom I have on that.
As for the once-lost-now-found niece, perhaps you should stop trying to bend.
An emerald is as green as grass,
A ruby red as blood;
A sapphire shines as blue as heaven;
A flint lies in the mud.
A diamond is a brilliant stone,
To catch the world's desire;
An opal holds a fiery spark;
But a flint holds fire.
I think you should ignore Sara Teasdale (she’s a bit of a moper, to be honest.).
Take Christina Rossetti’s advice and be fire.
Your friend,
BWK, who is still in Natchitoches
Paul sent the message and then stood up, walking to the long window and staring out at the river. The apartment was quiet, the city was hushed. It seemed like the whole world was asleep, except for two lonely people.
He heard the ding of his phone from where he stood but didn’t reach for it. He couldn’t guess her response. Would she ask him to meet her? Would she ask where he was staying? For some reason, his stomach was twisting with nerves.
Picking up his phone, he held it in his hand, feeling the cool metal against his fingertips. If she asked him to meet her, then he’d go through all the emotion and anxiety he’d felt before the dance. And even though he knew it was selfish, Paul didn’t know if he had enough bravery to try and tell her twice in one weekend.
He touched the screen and her response popped up.
Dear BWK,
Yes, be fire!
Tomorrow, I’ll spark the flame.
Thank you.
Your friend,
Alice
Paul felt the huge grin spread over his face. That’s my girl, he thought. And moments later, tried to erase the idea. She wasn’t his girl. She was a lot of things to him but she wasn’t his.
He shut off the phone and fell into bed, a smile still touching his lips. He fell into sleep like falling under water, all at once. He dreamed of bright sparks and her kiss and piles of old books. He tried to keep them apart, knowing even in his dream that it would be a disaster, but in the end, it all merged together into a towering flame.
Chapter Seventeen
We live in a society exquisitely dependent on science and technology, in which hardly anyone knows anything about science and technology. ―Carl Sagan
Alice gave herself a silent pep talk. She was about to do something she could never have imagined just weeks ago. She was going to sue Paul Olivier and her beloved city of Natchitoches. She had only one friend who might be crazy enough to file that kind of paper for her and she quickly looked up his number. A few minutes later, she set the phone back down, her heart pounding in her chest. Randy Rittenberg, an old high school friend who lived in LaFayette, asked her more than once if she was sure she wanted to go ahead with it. Once she’d convinced him she wasn’t backing down, he agreed. By noon, he would fax the papers to city hall. She would have to go down there, sign and file them.
Alice picked up the old rotary phone and dialed again, letting the loud ringing in her right ear act as a sort of wake up call. Two cups of coffee weren’t enough to get her sluggish brain moving after a night of worry. After BWK had given her a pep talk, she’d finally been able to rest, but that had only been a few hours before dawn.
“Mayor Cointreau speaking,” said a gravelly voice.
“Hello, mayor. It’s Alice Augustine, from By the Book. I was hoping we could meet sometime today and talk about that new store that’s going up in the historic district.”
There was a long silence at the other end and Alice could imagine Mayor Cointreau straightening his tie. It was a nervous tic, like other people cleared their throats. “I suppose you can come by, if you like, but everything’s already been approved. I can hear them working on it from here.”
Alice took a deep breath. “I’ve decided to file a petition seeking a temporary injunction
with the city to block the construction of ScreenStop in the historical district. And I’m going to sue to seek the enforcement of the zoning laws.”
There was another long silence and this time she couldn’t imagine what he was doing. Finally he said, “I don’t think you could win that case, Alice.”
“I’m claiming undue hardship, since that store will bring down my property prices.” Alice hadn’t been sure what sort of claim she could make but Randy had given her several options, the best of which was that By the Book would suffer.
“I would suggest you rethink that course of action. We went to a lot of trouble to make sure ScreenStop could build quickly and without issues. Whatever has happened between you is no cause for that kind of behavior.”
“What?” She nearly choked on her words. “Nothing has happened. I mean, it’s not what you’re thinking. I decided this before―”
“If you do find someone to file this, I’ll have to come out and say that I’m against your actions and that the city supports Mr. Olivier.” His tone was cold.
That was pretty clear and nothing that she hadn’t expected, but it was still hard to hear. “I understand,” she said and hung up the phone.
If Alice had ever wondered how Paul had gotten that building permit without it going through the board, she knew now. The application hadn’t followed the city bylaws. No matter what Paul had said, or what he’d been told, that store was being constructed without being properly approved.
The knowledge made her furious and hopeful at the same time. If she could prove it, she could stop it. Alice wiped her hands on her linen skirt and took a deep breath. She didn’t mind tangling with city hall. Authority figures had never bothered her. It was the thought of facing Paul after he discovered what she’d done.
Be fire. Alice held on to those words, repeating them to herself as she slipped out from behind her desk and paced the small front room. She needed to let her anger spark itself into something that would create change, not just let it smolder inside, growing hotter and more painful.
Along the Cane River: Books 1-5 in the Inspirational Cane River Romance Series Page 18