“Alone? You?” Tasha blurted out. “With a man like Julian at your side?”
“You have a man like Andre at your side,” Camille reminded her. “It’s not stopping you.” Camille, Tasha was sure, hadn’t meant that to bite as much as it did.
“It’s different with me and Andre than it was for you and Julian.”
“Not really.” Camille wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “None of the de Laurent men have entered into marriage in the traditional way. Every one of them had to have a logical reason. Maurice, when he married Julian and Andre’s mother…he did that because he needed her money. And again when he married Claudette…he needed a mother for his children.” Her face held a solemn expression. “And Julian, well, you know his story. My point is that whatever induced the de Laurent men to marry, it doesn’t mean they love us any less.”
“Camille, I pray every day that I can get over it. Maybe someday I will.” She lowered her head.
“But right now you just need a little time to heal.” Camille patted Tasha’s hand.
“Avignon isn’t that far away.” Tasha looked up, seeing Camille’s smile. She needed her friend in her life. “You’ll come see me, won’t you?”
“I’m going to come see you so often that you’re going to get tired of me.”
“I doubt that.” Tasha laughed and then Camille laughed, too.
Laughing felt good. Tasha hadn’t done much of that lately. Maybe one day she’d feel the urge naturally, and not have to have it coaxed out of her. Until that day she was going to need the support of her best friend—who was also Andre’s family.
Claudette was on a mission, she was going to find Andre. Finally, an idea had come to her. One she thought just might work. As far as she could see, there was only one way to convince Tasha that Andre loved her more than he wanted the Renault fortune.
She caught up with him in the hidden alcove in the east garden. He was sitting with his arms stretched out along the back of the bench in front of his unborn child’s memorial statue.
Quietly, Claudette claimed the empty spot on the bench beside him. “Tough times. How are you holding up?”
Andre hesitated a moment and then turned to Claudette. “My misery is of my own making.” He looked at her for a brief time and then guided his attention back to the memorial stone.
“We’ll that’s not entirely true.” As soon as she said it, she regretted it. The family was in enough turmoil without adding a fight between Andre and Maurice into the mix. “It’s nobody’s fault, really. You had a lot of responsibilities piled on you when faced with your grand uncle’s will. It would’ve been hard to please everyone.”
“Yes—” He looked at Claudette again. “But the one person I should’ve been concerned with pleasing, I didn’t.”
“That’s hardly fair, Andre,” she said in an unwavering voice, then waited a bit before adding in a more casual tone, “You know what I think?”
He chuckled. “What’s that?”
“I think you need to forget about what you should’ve done, and concentrate on what you should be doing now.”
“There aren’t many options…that I can find, anyway.”
“Oh, sure there is. You just need to put your mind to it.”
“Any suggestions?”
“Well, for starters you need to take this memorial…” She pointed to the stone. “And move it into the gardens at Belle Vallee. It needs to be close to Tasha so she’ll have somewhere to talk to her one child who’ll never be born.”
Andre’s face brightened. “That’s a great idea.” After a moment, his smile quickly faded. “I don’t think it’s going to get me far with Tasha, though. I’ll do it. But I think I need something more drastic than that to prove myself to her.”
“What exactly do you need to prove to her?” Claudette posed the leading question. This was a decision Andre would have to conclude all on his own—or at least he needed to think it was all his idea.
“That I love her more than I care about that money,” he said in a lackluster voice.
“And how are you going to make her see that?” Claudette looked at Andre. His eyes were vacant. He’d need a bigger push than she’d given Julian when he was about to lose Camille. “Put your mind to it, Andre. How will you convince her that you love her more than the money?” She paused to let the idea take root in his mind. “There is a way. Think about it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
TASHA WAS AMAZED AT HOW QUICKLY the two weeks had flown by since she’d moved into Belle Vallee. In that brief time, she’d completely settled in and couldn’t imagine herself ever having lived anywhere else.
Andre had moved the memorial stone for the baby they would never have to the south garden just off the back of the house. She appreciated that. It made it easy for her to feel like she was spending time with her unborn baby’s spirit. It calmed her.
Andre was now the head of a multi-billion-dollar conglomerate, and moving to Avignon—the locale of Mont Claire’s headquarters—made sense, plus it’d allow him to be close to the new baby once it came.
They were both in agreement that he move his things into the east wing at Belle Vallee. The house was big enough that they wouldn’t have to run into each other unless they wanted to. Yet, they were both under the same roof and once the baby came, it’d be easy for him to see the child whenever he wanted.
This was a fine arrangement, at least until Andre moved on and then, sooner or later, fell in love with someone else. Tasha would never move on. She’d already loved with her whole heart. No one would ever be able to block out the shadow of Andre de Laurent. And she had no idea if Andre would ever be able to block out the shadow of the way he’d come to inherit Mont Claire and all his uncle’s holdings. She’d resigned herself to devoting her life to raising their child.
Of course, there was always the stigma of the first miscarriage looming over her. Losing this baby was Tasha’s greatest fear. To help, Andre had a doctor come around once a week to check the baby’s heartbeat.
Dr. Chapel had been around yesterday. Tasha was in her fourth month now, and the doctor had assured her the baby was doing fine. The sound of the baby’s heartbeat—loud and strong—confirmed it.
Today, Harvey Martel was scheduled to drop by with the divorce papers. All Tasha had to do was sign them.
The chime of an old-world doorbell brought Tasha back to reality. Jordan, Belle Vallee’s butler would answer it, and announce her guest in the main library off the entrance.
The staff was something she’d have to get used to. It wasn’t a totally foreign concept, she’d spent a year at Pacifique de Lumière, but having them at her disposal was, well, weird. Although she couldn’t imagine trying to clean this five-story castle by herself. She was a bit relieved when Andre explained that it was his responsibility to provide employment for all these people, so they could support themselves. After that, she got that it was also her duty to employ a personal maid. But Tasha had gotten so used to Rose at Pacifique de Lumière that she’d decided to bring her along as her personal maid.
The double doors to the library opened. Jordon entered with Harvey following close behind. “Madam…” Jordan addressed Tasha. “Mr. Martel.”
“Jordan…” She sucked in a deep breath, hoping to hide her exasperation of this so-called compromise. She was more than willing to let these people keep their jobs, but they had to stop being so formal. It was hard to relax with all this formal etiquette that kept happening around her. “Seriously. You don’t need to keep announcing people that I’m expecting. Just tell them to come on in.”
“Very well, madam.” Jordan bowed and backed out of the room.
“Might as well go with it.” Harvey shrugged and closed the door. “It’s what he’s used to.”
“Yes, and it’s the very opposite of what I’m used to.” She looked at the manila envelope in his hand. “Is that them?”
“The papers…” Harvey nodded.
Tasha sucked in a breath and c
aressed her tummy. She’d known it was coming, but that didn’t stop her heart from pounding its disapproval. Just breathe. She looked at Harvey and forced a smile. “Has Andre signed?”
“Not yet.”
“So I’m first.” She pulled in a breath, then slowly released it.
“If you’d like. Or you can wait for Andre.” He laid the packet on the coffee table. “I’ll leave them here. You both can go over them. Once they’re signed, have Andre courier them over to me.” Harvey stood. “It’ll all be legal.”
Just like that? Tasha was beginning to feel like she was attending a reading of a will. That’s what it felt like. Someone had died. Something had died. Her marriage. She just hadn’t got that until this moment. Up until now, it’d been hard to consider the death of her marriage when she was carrying Andre’s child. “Okay…” Tasha scraped her hand through her hair. “I appreciate that you delivered the documents in person.”
Harvey headed to the door and opened it. He paused long enough to say, “Well, that’s what Andre pays me for.” He chuckled and disappeared into the entryway.
Tasha looked at the manila envelope lying on the table. Having the papers practically staring her in the face filled her with dread. She’d known it was coming, but now that that day had arrived she wondered if she was doing the right thing. Was she truly ready to make a legal break from Andre?
She reached for the envelope, but yanked her hand back before she actually touched it. If she opened the envelope then she’d be faced with the task of signing the papers, effectively ending her marriage.
She let out a sigh, pumped her fist and reached for the envelope once more. Picking it up by the slightest tip of one corner, she slid it off the table toward her. Holding it up in the air, she inspected the exterior. There was nothing on the outside except Andre’s handwritten name.
Tasha sucked in a breath and for the first time seriously considered opening it. Well, you did ask for this, she reminded herself. “Since when have I ever gotten anything I’ve asked for?” she muttered.
Well, it’s now or never. From somewhere deep inside, Tasha found the courage, or maybe it was stupidity, to open the envelope. She ripped the top off and peered inside. Nothing but papers. Gently, she pulled the document out and started reading.
It was mostly mumbo-jumbo about the party of the first part and the party of the second part and other nonsense like that. It wasn’t until she’d perused through about half of the document that the clouds began to clear. She wanted to read it carefully to make sure the agreement she and Andre had come to hadn’t been changed. She doubted Andre would change it, but she wouldn’t put it past Maurice. He wasn’t exactly happy that Tasha wanted to divorce his son.
There was no decree of divorce, no bequeathment of one hundred million dollars to Tasha. There was no declaration that their unborn child would be Andre’s heir apparent to Mont Claire Enterprises. But…if Tasha was reading this thing right, Andre had given up any claim to Mont Claire Enterprises. Instead of divorce papers, this looked like a document to relinquish the company and all its holdings to Tasha.
That couldn’t be right. Tasha tossed the papers onto the coffee table and grabbed her cell phone. Now she regretted not opening the envelope while Harvey was still at the house. She punched his number into the phone and waited.
“Martel,” he answered.
“Harvey, it’s Tasha de Laurent.”
“Tasha…what can I do for you?”
“I was just reading over the papers and I must be reading it wrong.” She stopped and took a deep breath. Was she nuts? She exhaled and added, “I thought these were divorce papers, but it seems to be some kind of transfer of property?”
“No. Those aren’t divorce documents. They’re simply a transfer of ownership,” he said. “As soon as you sign, Mont Claire, the houses, and the money Andre inherited from Edouard Renault will belong to you.”
“Me?”
“You. It’s one hundred percent yours.”
“Holy shit,” she said, disconnecting the call.
Tasha had called Andre, and now she stood at the double French doors looking out over the garden while she waited for him to arrive. She could see her Angel’s memorial stone from where she stood. She liked that and was thankful that Andre had been thoughtful enough to move the statue to Avignon.
Looking down at her baby bump, she laid her hand on it and gave a little caress. At four months along, she was starting to feel a sense of confidence in the doctor’s prognosis for a healthy pregnancy this time.
The doorbell chimed, but she didn’t jump this time. Maybe she was getting used to it. That was good. She’d be here for a long time. This was, after all, going to be her baby’s childhood home. Tasha wondered if she’d find it hard to leave this place in twenty years. Maybe. Probably.
The doors to the library opened up. Tasha was expecting to see Jordan, but instead found herself face-to-face with Andre. He stopped just inside the door with one hand behind his back. He stood there looking at her with those eyes and that smile. Both turned her inside out.
“You ring the doorbell now?” She ramped her voice up a notch on the stern meter, hoping to quell the desire overcoming her.
He chuckled and shook his head. “No, that wasn’t me. It was the florist.” He waved a bouquet of white roses at Tasha. “These are for you.”
They were beautiful, not to mention her favorite. “Thank you.” She took the flowers and glanced away, feeling the heat from blushing warming her cheeks. Lord, she was a fool for that man.
“You’re welcome.” He looked at the envelope in her hand. “Is that the papers?”
That brought her back to reality. She poked the envelope at his chest. “What is this?”
“It’s my declaration.”
“Declaration…?” She felt her brow wrinkle. “For what?”
Andre moved toward her and took the envelope from her, then dropped it onto the table. He slipped his hands around hers, saying, “I’m trying to prove myself to you.”
“By turning Mont Claire over to me?” she asked. He nodded. “But Andre….”
“Look…” Andre released her hand and sat down on the couch. He grabbed the envelope and pulled out the papers. “I’m prepared to do whatever it takes,” he said, looking around for a pen. After locating one in the coffee table drawer, he signed the document in all the appointed places and handed it to her with a smile. “Now, all you have to do is sign it and it’ll all be settled.” He must have seen that she was about to object, and butted in, “If you still want a divorce, the papers will be delivered tomorrow. But at least I’ll know that I’ve done everything I possibly can to prove to you that I want you more than I want Renault’s fortune.”
Tasha shook her head. “There has to be a better solution than this,” she said in a quaking voice. “It’s not fair for me to take everything from you just to make myself feel secure.” Tasha dropped down onto the couch and buried her face in her hands. Taking Andre’s inheritance from him was not what she’d wanted at all.
“If that’s what it takes.” He sat down beside her and graced her arm with a gentle touch. “Honestly, Tasha…without you the money means nothing.”
“Well, I like insecurity a lot better than guilt.” She gave Andre a determined look. “I don’t want either of us feeling like we’re playing second fiddle to a bunch of money.”
“You want to give it away?”
She stared at him, unsure about whether or not he was serious. “No, I don’t want to do that either. It’d be careless to throw away our baby’s birthright.”
A grin touched the corners of his mouth. “That is sound thinking.” He tilted his head to one side. “So what do we do…aside from divorcing?” Andre shook his head. “I really don’t want to divorce.”
“Neither do I.” Tasha lowered her eyes and stared at the document on the table. Giving her the whole of Mont Claire had been a grand gesture, but it wouldn’t fix things. It would only turn the tables.
If only he’d given her half.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
WHEN TASHA WAS SIX MONTHS ALONG, Claudette and Camille threw her a baby shower at Belle Vallee. Family friends came from all over France and Europe, and Tasha’s parents came from the U.S. Of course, Jim Gordon hung out with the men at Pacifique de Lumière, while the women played their party games and stuffed themselves with cake in Avignon.
Tasha had quickly tired from all the reverie, and had claimed a comfortable chair in the west salon, where the shower had taken place, vowing not to get up again. She gazed at the table stacked with gifts still in their wrappers, all very fine things, she was sure. But right now all she wanted to do was take a nap. She rubbed her bulging belly with her left hand. Andre’s rings glittered on her ring finger.
Claudette slipped gracefully into the chair at Tasha’s side. “You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. What’s on your mind?”
“I’m just thinking about how close we came to losing this house, not to mention Mont Claire.” Tasha sighed heavily.
“Cecily Garceau was a determined woman.” Claudette glanced around. “I suppose all this can induce people with very few scruples to do all sorts of things.”
Tasha nodded and then shrugged. “She seemed so adamant that her great grandmother had been wronged.”
“I’ve done a little research on that score.” Claudette patted Tasha’s arm. “Jacques and Claire Renault were Andre and Julian’s great-great grandparents. Jacques’ sister Emilie was Cecily’s great grandmother. Jacques’ fortune was founded on diamonds in South Africa, then he moved into real estate among other things. His sister married a man who was, by all accounts, thought of as a scoundrel. He was an Englishman, Marvin Bishop. Anyway, Jacques gave Marvin one million dollars right after he married Emilie. Marvin blew the entire dowry within two years and then came back for more. Jacques Renault was not a man to throw money away, but he had his sister to think about, so he offered Marvin a job. Marvin declined, and in fact was very angry that Jacques would not just give him more money. He forbade Emilie to ever see her family again. The poor girl was in love.” Claudette shrugged. “And the rest is history.” Claudette shook her head. “So you see, Jacques Renault did everything he could, short of becoming Marvin Bishop’s personal bank account, to take care of his sister. She could’ve left Marvin. Jacques would’ve taken care of her, but she chose not to. I can understand though, how her descendants would have grown up hearing a distorted version of the truth. They say Marvin carried a great chip on his shoulder for the rest of his life…and it was a very long life. He lived well into his nineties.”
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