He didn’t mind so much that Alice hated his company or his games. He was proud of what he’d accomplished. But now, watching her stand there, trying not to cry, was almost more than he could take. This wasn’t some philosophical disagreement over technology’s role in society. She was really hurt and it was his fault.
***
Alice fought back tears. She shouldn’t have left to go to lunch with Al. She should have stayed and supervised. One bad decision and the cable men had done damage that couldn’t be fixed. Not really, anyway. She was sure she could find someone to fill the holes and patch the wood. But it was one more way she had let down Mr. Perrault’s memory lately.
Sure, Paul was the one who should have been watching, but ultimately, the responsibility was hers. She’d agreed to let him put in cable, just like she’d agreed to the alarm system. Was she making these changes for her, or just because she had a weak spot where Paul was concerned? The previous tenants had mentioned cable and she’d told them it wasn’t possible. They’d lived in the building for two years but Paul and Andy would only be here a few weeks. Obviously, Alice was making decisions without thinking them through. And the Perrault’s beautiful building was suffering as a result.
What was done was done. She needed to shake it off and be a gracious guest. She looked up at Paul and her eyes went wide. He stood there, head down, and hands in his pockets. He looked as if he had run over someone’s kitty. Of all the times they’d argued, he’d never looked upset. Defiant or amused or exasperated. Never like this.
“Hey,” she said, reaching out. She touched his sleeve. “It’s not…” She almost said it wasn’t a big deal, but that wasn’t true. “It’s not the end of the world. These things happen.”
“Do they?” He seemed angry. “Seems like you took care of this place pretty well before I got ahold of it.”
“Well, you don’t really have ahold of it,” she said, smiling. “A month lease isn’t forever.”
“Yeah, who knows what else I’ll do before we bug out of here.” His shoulders slumped.
It was funny. When Eric pouted, Alice wanted to smack him. When Paul did the same thing, Alice wanted to cheer him up. Maybe it was because Eric was always pouting over something Alice had done, but Paul was upset with himself. Alice slid a hand down to his wrist.
“Come on. Let’s go eat. It might not be so bad after we’ve had some ribs.” She tugged him toward the kitchen and he pulled his hand out of his pocket, their hands twining together easily. They walked to the counter and sat down on the stools.
Andy cleared his throat. “I think I need to say something. Paul said he always wanted to live in an old place like this. He never would have let them do that. He left me in charge. This is my fault.”
She glanced at Paul. He’d never said that he loved the building that much. But he also shouldn’t have let Andy take over. She sighed. “It’s okay, Andy. It’s done. It happened. I’m over it. Let’s eat.”
Mrs. Olivier had said nothing until now but she came around the counter and wrapped Alice in her arms. “I’m so sorry. And I just knew you were a special girl.”
Alice didn’t want to let go of Paul’s hand but since his mother was hugging her, she thought she’d better participate. When Mrs. Olivier stepped back, Alice was grinning. “Because I’d rather eat ribs than argue?”
Paul snorted. “Nothin’ special there,” he teased. “That applies to most of Natchitoches.”
Mrs. Olivier turned to the oven. “Funny, you two. I better warm these up real fast. Have a biscuit and some beans and slaw, y’all.”
They took turns dishing out the food and Paul asked the blessing. Alice smiled at the Louisiana Creole words, so familiar and yet still so strange coming from him.
Alice took a biscuit and then turned the bag for a closer look and cocked her head. “Who’s Tiffany?”
“Who?” Andy got up and peered over her shoulder.
“It says ‘call me, I can show you around. Tiffany’,” Alice said. She looked from one to the other and noticed Paul’s face had gone red.
“I think that was the waitress,” he said, clearing his throat. “You want slaw with that?”
“Poor Paul. He can’t go anywhere without girls throwing themselves at him,” Mrs. Olivier said. “It’s just not right. These girls don’t have any raisin’, the way they carry on.”
“You should be at some of these game-release parties, Mrs. Olivier. The last one, he was trying to make a speech and the whole front row was flashing him. He could hardly remember what he was trying to say,” Andy said, chuckling. “I just wish I hadn’t been in the row behind them. But that’s the perk of being the CEO, I guess.”
Alice paused mid-bite. The idea of Paul surrounded by beautiful young women willing to do anything to get his attention made her stomach go sour.
“Andy,” Paul spoke quietly, but something in his voice must have told Andy that now was not the time to reminisce on the good times they shared at those parties.
Alice searched for something to say that wasn’t related to how many women loved Paul. Andy’s T-shirt caught her gaze. “Your company logo is a seraph, isn’t it? At first I thought it was just an angel, but then I saw the other sets of wings. With the red and black, it’s really striking. I heard companies pay a lot of money for just the right design.”
Looking down at his chest, Andy nodded. “True. But Paul came up with this. It’s from some book he likes.”
“Oh, one of the Heinlein books?” Alice asked.
“No, just… Some old thing.” Paul stood up and went to the sink to wash his hands.
“He’s got all sorts of weird little names registered around. All of our games are officially trademarked under Fifty Wim―”
“Andy,” Paul interrupted, voice urgent. “Let’s not talk about the company right now. Okay?”
He shrugged. “Okay. It’s not like I was teaching her how to code. We’re just being sociable.”
Alice poked at her coleslaw. She didn’t think for a moment that Paul was shielding her from shop talk. Andy was going to say something she wouldn’t like, and Paul was telling him to keep a lid on it. Maybe there was something worse than the game store opening. If so, she couldn’t imagine what it was.
“I’m real glad you could come to dinner. Paul probably wished I wouldn’t be such a busybody. I know you young people like to hang out without all of us old people listening in to your business,” Mrs. Olivier said. She was smiling but something in her dark eyes seemed not as friendly as they had been the other day. She’d probably heard about Alice filing the petition to stop construction by now. Maybe Mrs. Olivier wondered why Alice was suing her boyfriend because Mrs. Olivier assumed they were dating.
Alice swallowed a bite of coleslaw and nodded. “Thank you for inviting me. It’s true, I don’t usually spend a lot of time with my boyfriends’ parents.” She choked on the last word. “No, that’s not what I meant to say. I meant to say friends’ parents.” Alice had no idea why her mouth had decided to betray her. She studiously avoided looking at Paul, her face burning.
Mrs. Olivier paused, a cookie sheet filled with barbecue ribs in her hands. She looked from Alice to Paul and back. Then she opened the door and slid in the ribs. “And how many boyfriends have you had, Alice?”
“Mama,” Paul growled under his breath. “Let the girl eat.”
“Can you pass the biscuits?” Andy said. “These are great. So tasty. Fluffy. Just the right amount of…” He frowned at the one in his hand, “…dough.”
“It’s okay,” Alice said. She loved those two for trying to run interference, but she knew Creole mamas. They found out the truth, whether you wanted them to or not. “I haven’t dated that many. I like running my store. I’d like to have a family someday but I’m not lonely.”
“Plus, you don’t know anybody willing to take on that many cats,” Paul said. He winked and Alice had to laugh. He was the only person in the room who knew how accurate that was.
�
��So, then,” Andy started to say. He looked innocent to Alice but something in his expression must have tipped off Paul.
“Hey, pass back those biscuits,” Paul interrupted, a little too loudly.
Andy ignored him. “What would Alice Augustine look for in a boyfriend?”
“Current residency,” Alice said.
Andy guffawed in surprise.
“Temporary or permanent?” asked Paul.
Alice smiled. He’d known what she meant. “Permanent.”
“I guess Al’s out, then. Didn’t he say he lived in Lafayette?” Paul sounded a little smug.
“I s’pose you’re right.” She pretended to be disappointed. “Or he can just drive over here every so often.”
“And some people can fly over here every so often in their personal jet,” Paul said.
“Now, hold on.” Mrs. Olivier stood there, arms crossed. “Let’s just get to the meat of the matter here.”
Alice felt her smile fade away. She obviously deserved the truth talk because she’d just been flirting with the woman’s son, but she still knew that it wasn’t going to feel very good.
“How is it that you can be fixin’ to sue Paul and want to step out with him at the same time?”
“I’m not―”
“She’s isn’t―”
“Oh, y’all are givin’ me a head ache. I thought we could get some things straightened out here but we’re goin’ in circles for the umpty-umpth time.” Mrs. Olivier threw her hands up in the air.
“It’s not personal, Mama,” Paul said. He seemed chastised.
“Well, it should be.” She glared from one to the other. “If I expect anything from you, it’s to keep things personal. Only big city folk act like business ain’t personal.” She turned. “And that goes for you, too, Andy.”
“Yes, Mrs. Olivier,” he said. And there wasn’t a hint of a smirk.
Alice stared at her plate. Paul’s mom was right. Pretending that there wasn’t a person behind ScreenStop wasn’t right. But she didn’t know how to separate this man from the building down the street. He’d acquired a construction permit despite the zoning bylaws and she couldn’t just ignore it, either.
She took a biscuit and cracked it open. She still didn’t agree with the way Andy and Paul made a living. Games were a colossal waste of time. But she was beginning to understand how ignoring technology wasn’t the answer, either. It had introduced so many people to the old books that were once almost forgotten, and the e-reader gave Bix back the ability to enjoy books again.
She caught Paul’s eye and looked away. She’d been so sure she was right. Now she just didn’t know what to think.
***
“I’ll walk you back,” Paul said, getting up. They were stuffed full of ribs and all the fixin’s, happy and fed. But it was getting late and Alice looked tired. A little sad, too.
Mrs. Olivier reached out and gave Alice a quick hug. “Don’t be a stranger. And pray about that petition you filed.”
“Mama,” Paul groaned. That was the Christian way of saying “I know you’re wrong but you won’t take my word for it, so God will have to explain it to you.”
“Take care, Alice,” Andy said, waving from his chair. He was stretched out, one leg over the arm. His T-shirt had sauce on it but you could hardly tell. “I’m sorry again about the holes.”
Paul could tell Andy felt bad, but he was also sure he didn’t really understand why it mattered.
“It’s forgiven,” Alice said, smiling. “But who knows? Maybe I’ll sue you next.”
Paul snickered. It was weird that they could talk about it like it almost didn’t matter. But legal papers were no laughing matter, especially when the opening had been scheduled for months.
“You don’t have to walk me back. I live down the hall.” She smiled up at him.
“My mama didn’t raise me like that,” Paul said, opening the door.
“Actually, your mama has some sense, and would say, ‘She lives twenty feet away,’ but suit yourself,” Mrs. Olivier said.
Paul pretended not to hear her comment or Andy’s laughter. He followed Alice into the hallway, closing the door. They walked to her apartment in silence. He wanted to say something, now that they were finally alone, but nothing occurred to him. He wanted to reach out and take her hand again, but for some reason he couldn’t find the courage.
“Your mama is a good woman. I like her,” Alice said as they reached her door.
He nodded. “She’s worked hard and she expects a lot from me. But she also… it’s hard to explain. She’s got a generous spirit.”
“Real giving, like you? I know Bix sure appreciates his e-reader.” Her eyes were greener than he remembered, probably from the golden light of the hallway fixtures.
“No, she reminds me of a Gerard Manley Hopkins line: ‘I say that we are wound with mercy round and round as if with air’.” He paused, unsure if he should have brought up poetry at all. “She’s merciful. When someone disappoints her, she wraps them in mercy. I know everybody loves their own mother, but to me, she embodies grace when it seems the world only values revenge.” His need for revenge had brought him all the way back to Natchitoches.
Alice’s lips turned up in a soft smile “She’s wonderful. And my friend Mr. Perrault loved that Manley Hopkins. He liked his line about ‘a man living with a few strong instincts and a few plain rules, that he seemed of cheerful yesterdays and confident tomorrows’.” Her smile faded. “It sounds nice, doesn’t it? So simple. A recipe for the perfect life.”
“But it’s hard to tell which rules to make your ‘few’, right?” He understood. Some people said it was just the Golden Rule, or just some little catchphrase, but there were always more. You start asking questions and the rules added up until you couldn’t keep track of them all.
“And which instincts do we follow?” she said, her eyes fixed on his. “Is it the instinct to stand up for what’s right? Or the instinct to protect what’s been passed down?” She bit her lip. “Or the instinct to love a man who seems to be in opposition to both of those?”
Paul felt her words slip under his rib cage and lodge somewhere near his heart. “Maybe that man isn’t really in opposition at all,” he said. He couldn’t convince her that he wasn’t trying to destroy the historic district. He couldn’t even prove that he cared about her building.
She stepped toward him. “I want to believe that. I really do,” she whispered.
Paul slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. Their first kiss had been slow and hesitant. This one was the almost the opposite, with both of them rushing together, as if afraid they would be interrupted at any moment. If Paul had ever wondered if Alice thought about him when he wasn’t around, he knew the answer now. This wasn’t a casual kiss, the kind that happened as a matter of fact at the end of a date. It was the kind of kiss that built for days and finally came to fruition almost like a miracle.
When she drew back from him, her eyes were bright with some unnamed emotion. For a woman who described herself as flint, she was warm and soft, yielding to his touch. She let out a shaky breath, her sigh feathering against his jaw. “I should go,” she said, her words barely more than air. Her arms were around his neck and one hand slid down, tenderly cupping his face, then dropped to her side.
He nodded, trying to focus on something other than her lips. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, but the words just wouldn’t arrange themselves in his brain and come out his mouth.
She gently untangled herself from him and stepped back, searching her pocket for her key. He stood there while she put it in the lock, smiling a little at how long it took her to get the door open. He would have offered to help except he wouldn’t have been any better. He felt completely undone.
She slipped inside and started to close the door, smiling at him through the crack until it met the door jamb and he heard a click. Paul stood there for another minute, still feeling his heart pound in his chest, seeing Alice’s bright
green eyes, feeling her touch.
He walked back down the hallway, barely noticing his surroundings. Andy had said this was a bad idea. He said Paul and Alice were like Romeo and Juliet. Paul had never liked that play, thinking of it as beautiful words for an ugly story and a horror movie ending. But for the first time, Paul understood Romeo. Even if they really were doomed to be in eternal opposition, he didn’t really care. He wanted to be with Alice, no matter the cost. And he had never felt that way about any woman, ever before.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A satellite has no conscience. ―Edward R. Murrow
For Alice, Friday morning was starting off all wrong. Last night’s kiss was still humming through her veins and it was hard to concentrate long enough to make breakfast. The second time she burned her toast, she gave up and headed downstairs. As she walked through the back door, she accidentally set off the alarm and it took her what seemed like hours to remember the code. Completely rattled, she turned and tripped over a cat dish, showering Darcy with water. He let out a hiss of anger and retreated somewhere in the store to sulk and repair his pride.
She really just needed some coffee. Her dreams had been fractured with vivid flashes of city hall, her lost necklace, and Paul’s kiss. Alice set the pot and stood there, trying to center herself. The coffee machine burbled quietly and she felt herself gradually relax. A smile touched her lips at the memory of how she’d been so nervous about Paul in her store, only to find him sound asleep. He’d looked much younger there, passed out in the overstuffed red chair. She turned, smiling at the memory, reliving that moment. The coffee machine finished its cycle and Alice reached for the pot… only to see she’d forgotten to add the grounds and had brewed a piping hot pot of water. She groaned in frustration and quickly started over.
She smoothed back her hair and straightened her wrap dress. When she was especially out of sorts, she liked to wear something with lots of color. The bright pink-and-purple pattern usually lifted her spirits. But it wasn’t working today. She addressed the front of the envelope and tried not to sigh. She had hoped to meet BWK in person, but it was never meant to be. Still, she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have a conversation with someone who loved these old books as much as she did. That was something she hadn’t known since Mr. Perrault, and she missed it.
Along the Cane River: Books 1-5 in the Inspirational Cane River Romance Series Page 23