“I told you already. She just lunged on top of me and bit my neck like freakin’ Nosferatu—”
“Where were you when she ‘lunged’?” Andre quirked a knowing eyebrow.
“On the bed,” Hope snapped back defensively.
“You were in bed together?”
“No. Yes.”
“So…You were in bed together?” Andre belabored his point.
“She was in bed. I was tucking her in.” Hope’s voice rose even higher.
“Why were you tucking her in?” Andre frowned.
“Because she’d kicked the blankets off and it was cold.”
“Okay, so you were cold and you got out of bed to tuck the blankets back in?”
“Yes. No. She was in the bed. Not me.”
“Because you’d got out to tuck in the blankets,” Andre said.
“What did I just say? Are you even listening to me?”
“Now let’s all calm down. Remember, it’s a complicated scene for us to picture, sweetie.” Godfrey tried to placate her. “You and Jolie in bed together, on your very first night here. It’s just kind of hard to imagine.”
Hope went a shade redder, if that was possible, and her mouth worked but no sound came out. Godfrey frowned at her. Between Hope’s apoplexy and Andre’s blundering, someone had to be the mediator if they were to get to the bottom of this. If everyone kept calm he was sure he could guide them all toward a simple and viable explanation.
“To be honest, sweetheart, you’re not explaining things very well,” he said gently, reaching out to stroke Hope’s arm in support.
“You’re telling me.” Andre snorted. “No wonder Mom thinks they had sex on Jolie’s desk—”
“What! What?” Hope flew into orbit.
“Oh my God.” Godfrey gave up.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Hey, sis. You home?”
Andre’s holler drew Jolie into the living room. She’d been in the bedroom getting dressed for Thanksgiving dinner. Her job was to go down early and help set the dinner table.
“Here,” she answered and came to see him, tucking her shirt into her pants. “You made it. Boy, am I glad to see you.” She smiled in sheer relief.
“I bet you are. Don’t worry, I’m here to rescue you from the opening presentation. Though how it can be any worse than your financial report I’ll never know.”
“Most of ’em doze off during mine. By the end of the hour I’m practically talking to myself.” She shrugged, feeling a lot better at seeing his face.
“Oh, Mrs. Meyers says thank you for the flowers.”
“Huh?”
“I thought as much. Hope sent them, didn’t she? How’s that going, by the way?” He nonchalantly wandered over and examined the bookcase.
“Mmm. Okay, I guess.” Jolie didn’t want to reveal the mix-up to him; she felt lacerated enough. Besides, she still had to talk to her dad and find out why he hadn’t followed through on the damage control they’d planned. It was too humiliating if she had to do it herself, so she was inclined to hang on until she’d spoken to her father. “Hope loves the valley. She went for a stroll while I helped Dad stack wood. She’ll be back soon if you want to wait.”
“I knew she’d love it here. I hoped she would. But I’ll catch her later. Godfrey and I want to talk over something important with her.”
He turned to her, eyes shining with excitement. “You’ll never believe it, Jolie.”
“What?” she asked surprised at how charged he was.
“Well, Hope and I have talked about it before, off and on…but now Godfrey agrees.” He gave her his widest smile. It was so infectious she found herself goofily smiling back at him.
“What?” she asked eagerly. It had to be good news, he looked so happy. She picked up on his excitement, bubbling with curiosity.
“We’re going to ask Hope be the biological mother of our cubs.”
A loud buzzing filled Jolie’s ears, as if a low-flying aircraft was crash-landing in her lap. Tunnel vision reduced her world to a distant pinprick of blurred light. Her blood pressure fell through the floor, then bungeed straight back up to the top of her skull. She felt cold, hot, cold, ill. She felt ill. Her guts heaved and churned. Yeah—ill. Very, very ill.
“Jeez, look at the time. I better go and get ready. See you at dinner, sis.” With a slap on her back, he sprang for the door, leaving her standing there pale and sweating. Frozen in place, she found herself staring at her ghostly reflection in the mantel mirror, her stunned black eyes the only color in her chalk white face.
When Hope returned from her walk Jolie had already left to help dress the table at Marie’s. It seemed every Garoul had a small task to contribute to the massive family feast, whether it was piling up firewood, or folding napkins, or willingly bearing the brunt of the food preparation. Though that last duty seemed to be the realm of the more senior female family members. It was definitely a matriarchal family.
Hope had seen that at once.
It was probably best Jolie had gone before Hope arrived. The mood she was in, she’d have swung a fire log at her, boss or no. Hopefully, later in the evening, she would take Jolie aside and reveal the trick Andre had played on her as payback for not correcting the rumor mill at once.
When he’d returned and described Jolie’s face, all three had a terrible fit of guilty giggling over pre-dinner martinis.
“I’m worried we’re being too cruel,” Godfrey, ever the ambassador of peace and goodwill, wondered aloud. “It might have been best to just confront her. In a reasonable fashion, of course,” he hastily added.
Hope still vented the odd little puff of steam when she thought about Jolie for any length of time.
“No. I really liked Claude and Patrice. Now I’m not sure I can look them in the face knowing they think I’m their daughter’s bit of office fluff. Thanks to Jolie, this weekend has become embarrassing and awkward. Let her stew in her own lying, underhanded juices.”
Hope felt no such pangs of guilt. This was justified retribution, and Andre had hit the nail on the head with his counter-tease. She’d have loved to have seen Jolie’s face for herself.
“Well, I’m going to tackle her about it after dinner. See what the big dollop was trying to pull, starting a story like that,” Andre said.
“And tell her the having your baby thing was just a joke,” Hope reminded him.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you should mull it over?” Andre raised his eyebrows hopefully. Godfrey snorted and Hope exploded into laughter.
“I swear,” she said to Godfrey, sidelining Andre, “these Garouls just get stupider and stupider the closer they get to home turf.”
Drying herself after a quick shower, she smiled ruefully as she recalled the weirdness of her first day in Little Dip. Then, noting the time, she moved through to the bedroom to dress for dinner.
“Okay, Taddy. Mommy’s gonna go get you a big ham bone,” she said. “And her name’s Jolie Garoul.”
Tickling Tadpole behind his good ear, she said, “Be good and guard the cabin until I get back. There’s Mommy’s best boy.”
Freshly dressed in a smart new blouse and skirt, she stepped out, gathering her resolve for her first and perhaps only introduction to the Garoul family en masse. She wandered down to Marie’s large cabin in the central complex, where she had arranged to meet the boys by the fire pit before they joined the rest of the family for Thanksgiving dinner. She was nervous about meeting the Garouls in general, and even more so now that she was aware they all thought she was associated romantically with Jolie. It still angered her that Jolie had allowed such a nonsense to color their whole visit here. Misunderstanding or not, Hope was Jolie’s guest and employee, and it was up to her to make sure this rumor was squelched, not dither around making things worse. She was glad Andre’s joke had knocked Jolie flat on her ass. She deserved it.
Marie’s cabin was the largest in the compound. A long table ran the entire length of the cozy room, bedecked with huge platt
ers of festive food. Delicious aromas and cheerful laughter filled the air as the huge fire crackled merrily away. Hope, Andre, and Godfrey were happily greeted as they entered. Jolie had headed down earlier, as her contribution to the dinner was helping set up the huge table.
“Hope,” Amy called, motioning her over to meet a tall, dark Jolie look-alike, “this is my partner, Leone, Jolie and Andre’s cousin.”
They shook hands greeting each other. Hope immediately warmed to the woman. She was very like Jolie in looks and stature, except more relaxed and outgoing than Hope could ever imagine Jolie being.
“Pleased to meet you, Hope.” Leone smiled. “How are you enjoying your visit?”
“I love Little Dip. What I’ve seen of it is beautiful, even for this time of the year. After the presentation is over, I hope to see some more before we go.”
“Oh, I’m sure Jolie will drag you all over it. Especially to her favorite fishing hole. We all love showing the place off to our guests. Patrice tells me you work with Jolie and Andre at Ambereye?”
“Yes, I’ve been PA to both of them.”
“Aah, you’re the one who keeps their inoculations up to date, then,” Leone teased.
“It’s actually in the job spec.” Hope threw a surreptitious glance around the room for Jolie, but didn’t see her. Maybe she was lurking in the kitchen doing her chore for the day.
“Hey.” Andre came over to join them, catching the tail end of the story. “I’m way the better boss. I’m much more reasonable than my vice president. Where is she, by the way?”
“She was banished out back last time I saw her,” Amy said.
“Seems she’s all fingers and thumbs today. She dropped a pie.” They all winced.
“She can be such a klutz sometimes. Remember the summer of the bees?” Leone turned to Andre, who winced again at the memory.
“We spent an entire afternoon sitting up to our necks in the creek until the swarm left. I was terrified. I had bad dreams for years about that mad buzzing sound.” He shuddered. “Jolie blundered into a hive and brought an angry swarm down on the rest of us,” he explained to Hope.
“And don’t forget the summer of the skunk,” Leone said. “We had to sit in a tub of cold tomato juice then.”
“And you still smell.”
“Oh, grow up, Andre.”
“Jolie was responsible for that, too?” Hope asked.
“Yeah, she brought bees and skunks down upon us like the plagues of Egypt,” Andre said.
“Her name means joy…what a misnomer.” Leone rolled her eyes.
“Ignore them. Jolie was a bit of a loner as a kid,” Amy said to Hope. “She didn’t join in a lot—”
“Because when she did all hell broke loose,” Leone interrupted.
“Then there was that flock of geese that chased us for miles. I can’t recall how she pissed them off, but, boy, were they mad,” Andre said.
“She was just the quieter twin, and she had a big blowhard like Andre to follow. Talk about theatrics.” Leone took the opportunity to get a dig back.
“It’s not theatrics…it’s a love of life.”
“Never listen to them.” Amy tugged Hope gently on the sleeve and they moved aside leaving the more boisterous Garouls to escalate their childhood arguments. “They wind each other up disgracefully at events like these. Jolie was a great kid. She just did her own thing a lot of time. I’ll bet she’s relieved Andre has appeared to do his share at the board meeting.”
“I haven’t seen her since breakfast. I’ll go find her, maybe see if our schedule for tomorrow needs to be tweaked. You said she was out back?”
“Yes, straight through the kitchen, you’ll see the door to the back porch.”
“I’ll catch you later.” With a smile Hope left.
She found it hard to equate her taciturn boss with the clumsy child described by her peers. Then again, there was an emotional clumsiness with Jolie. Perhaps she had transcribed her earlier awkwardness onto other areas of her life? Or perhaps she was just a recalcitrant twin, content to let a monumental show-off like Andre plow the social furrow for both of them.
As she passed through the kitchen, Patrice looked over and called, “Are you looking for Jolie, dear?” Hope nodded. “Tell her to come back in, her banishment is over. I’ve cleaned the floor, and dinner’s about to be served.”
“Okay. I’ll go get her.” Hope smiled and exited the kitchen. She found Jolie sitting on the back step, chucking stones viciously across the dirt path into the trees.
“Hey, your mom told me to call you. Dinner’s ready.”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” she answered tersely, her interest in the gravel at her feet increasing. Hope sat beside her. “You’ll mess your skirt, the step’s dusty.”
“It’ll brush off.” Hope was unconcerned. Still Jolie wouldn’t look at her, so she continued. “You sulking because you killed a pie?”
“No,” she mumbled defensively. “Wasn’t my fault. I just walked past and the stupid thing fell off the counter. It was perched right on the edge.”
“And they banished you.”
“So they could clean. I was going to do it, but Mom chased me out. She hates having me and Andre in a kitchen. Something always goes wrong…or missing.” Her voice was tight and sullen.
“So. What broke your smile, then?”
“Nothing broke it.” Another small stone was lashed across the dirt and rattled into a bush. There was a moment of silence as they watched it disappear in a small puff of dust. “You.”
With that she stood and stalked off into the trees.
“Me?” Hope’s question rang after her but was ignored. Hope sprung to her feet and chased after her.
“Me?” She grabbed her arm.
“You,” Jolie repeated moodily, trying to free herself.
“You’ve got some nerve blaming me, when you’re—” Her words were cut off as she was pushed roughly back against a tree. Jolie’s dark, flushed face thrust into hers.
Hot breath brushed across her cheek as Jolie snapped, “You can’t do it. I won’t allow it.”
“Do what?” Hope was confused, and a little bit intimidated, but refused to show it. Instead she masked it with a look of angry belligerence.
“Carry his cubs.”
“Cubs?” Now Hope was completely confused. What was Jolie so upset about? But before she could process the weird twist and turns of their conversation, Jolie covered her mouth in a hard, rough kiss. It was bruising and clumsy. Hope’s head banged against the tree, and her teeth gouged into her own lip.
“Ow.”
Jolie pulled back instantly, her face scarlet, her eyes huge wells of embarrassment, anger, and something else. Distress. Hope sank into the open look, plunging into the exposed soul of the woman before her.
It was a raw, instantaneous moment. She was for one eternal second completely connected to the irrational complexity of Jolie Garoul’s heart. Involuntarily, Hope reached out to touch her.
“Jolie? Hope?”
Patrice called from the back porch; dinner was ready. Jolie abruptly broke away and bounded back toward the cabin, her long stride opening up a gap Hope could never close.
“Hey,” Hope called after her. “We’ve got to talk,” she told the swinging kitchen door. Jolie had gone. And this would have been the perfect time to do it. Sighing, she brushed herself down and followed.
Hope’s mouth felt crushed and numb. Her chest was constricted.
Air had to squeeze into her tight lungs. She forced herself her to breathe deeply. Any sensible and rational conversation would have to wait it seemed. But she knew something she’d never even thought about before. In that rough, clumsy, totally amateurish kiss, and in that deep baleful gaze, she spied a world of longing. A world that surprised and intrigued her with its intensity, and she wasn’t sure what to do with it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Hope was surprised to find herself not sitting next to Jolie, or even Andre. It seemed Ma
rie and Patrice had split the seating arrangement to encourage mingling and conversation around the vast dinner table. Hope found herself between a lanky teenager, who introduced himself as Paulie, and Connie Fortune, which amazed her. She had been a fan of Connie Fortune’s work for several years, especially her wildlife series. And now she was sitting beside the reclusive artist at a Thanksgiving dinner. They happily chatted away for several minutes, allowing the Garouls to descend on the serving bowls like a swarm of starving ship rats. When everyone’s plates were eventually piled high, they filled their own, all the while chatting about Connie’s portfolio and art and nature in general.
“Thank you for the praise. It’s always nice to meet someone who likes my work. Before you go home you’ll have to visit my studio. It’s a little cabin set back from the others. About a half mile past where you and Jolie are staying.”
“This must be a wonderful place to work. How did you come to live in Little Dip? If Jolie hadn’t been driving, I’d never have found it. It hardly leaps off the map.”
“Well, for the most part I’ve been working with Marie and Garoul Press—”
“But you were a well-known wildlife illustrator long before that.”
“Wow, you do know your stuff.” Connie looked pleased that Hope genuinely was interested in her work, especially the earlier pre-Garoul phase. “Actually, I was on a hiking holiday in the mountains following a tip that rough-legged hawks were nesting in Little Dip. So, naturally I trespassed, and met the formidable Dr. Marie Garoul. It’s a long story. One day I may tell you all about it, but I’m much more interested in you and Jolie. It’s wonderful that she brought you along to meet us.”
“Oh, let’s just look on it as a business trip first and foremost, shall we? Jolie won’t relax until we get the finance presentation over and done with.” Hope carefully slipped out from a potentially embarrassing conversation. She didn’t want to promote the misinformation floating around. But curiously, she didn’t want to be the one to expose it either.
Jolie’s clumsy kiss out in the backyard had clued her in to the subtle complexities of the situation. Hope knew she didn’t have a full picture of what was happening, but she was prepared to wait a little longer to at least try and speak to Jolie about it.
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