The Pepper In The Gumbo: A Cane River Romance (26 page)

BOOK: The Pepper In The Gumbo: A Cane River Romance
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                                                                        ***

            After
he heard the petition had been approved, Paul retreated to his room. Andy knew
better than to bother him. Paul had been worried that Alice would be crushed
when her petition was denied. He should have been worried about his company.
Along with BWK’s
beau geste
that rescued her store, but doomed the
balance of their friendship, Paul had never felt so low.

            The
hours crept by and it was time for bed. He tossed and turned, finally getting
out of bed and spending hours on the Browning Wordsworth Keats site, responding
to fans and catching up on email. It made him feel just a little better.

            When
the sun rose, Paul slipped down the stairs and trudged down the block to
Babet’s. Even the smell of maple-cured bacon and hot grits didn’t lift his
mood. He ate without really tasting it, then carried an order of biscuits and
sausage home for Andy. The air seemed colder, wafting off the river and across
the sidewalk, sending a chill through his T-shirt. Paul zipped up his
sweatshirt and thought of New York City. He loved the bustle and the smell of
Autumn in the city. He’d never thought of it as home, exactly, but he really
didn’t belong here, either.

            The
hallway was quiet as Paul opened the door and slipped inside. He didn’t want to
see Alice right now. They’d laughed together the night before, joking about
lawsuits and legal maneuvers. It wasn’t funny now.

            Andy’s
eyes lit up when he looked in the bag. “Biscuits? You’re a real friend. Or
you’re trying to make me fat so you get all the girls.” He looked up. “Sorry.
That came out wrong. I know you’re… you’ve got problems…”

            Paul
shrugged. “No big deal.” He dropped onto the couch wishing he’d had at least a
few hours of sleep. Watching the Saturday-morning financial reports wasn’t the
way Paul liked to start the day. The overly-somber reporters and the dire
projections irritated him.

            He
sat up as the next segment opened. Pictures of the Natchitoches historic
district flashed across the screen, tall historic buildings lining the river. A
news anchor intoned, “A temporary stay was approved today against ScreenStop,
the billion-dollar tech company, and its newest flagship store.” The picture
changed to one of the distinctive brick roads in Natchitoches and a horse drawn
carriage frequented by tourists. “Local residents objected to the construction
of the modern building in the historic district of Natchitoches, saying it
illegally bypassed zoning laws. The grand opening of the store was scheduled
for the twentieth of this month, withJared Darren scheduled to perform.”

            The
picture cut to a crowd of people outside another ScreenStop store. A
spotty-faced boy with shaggy hair spoke into the camera. “I’ve been waiting for
this release for months. Then I read about the scavenger hunt and the prize so I
emptied my college account to pay for tickets down there. Now it’s canceled. I
hope they’re gonna refund me all my money.”

            The
picture flashed to the Natchitoches ScreenStop store, abandoned and silent. Several
dirt movers sat idle where the parking lot should be. “The company spokesperson
declined to comment at this time. Though ScreenStop stock is expected to dip in
response to the current troubles, long-term predictions for the company are
still strong. However, time will tell whether they will be able to hold onto
their fan base after this disappointment.”

            “It
wasn’t residents. It was only
one resident
. This is bad. This is really
bad.” Andy stared at the screen, both hands clutching his head.

            The
reporter continued on with the rest of the news and Paul muted it. “We need to
make sure this opening happens.” He grabbed a laptop and logged onto the
official ScreenStop site. The red seraph glowed brightly against the black
background. Paul paused, thinking of Alice’s copy of
Seraphim and Other
Stories
. That symbol once had meaning just for him, a blend of his favorite
poetry and his gaming passion. Now it was intertwined with Alice, just like
everything else in his life. Everywhere he looked, he was reminded of her. He
couldn’t understand how in just a few weeks she had become so much a part of
his life. Or maybe she always had been, her life mirroring his from the
beginning. Maybe they had walked around the world for years, unaware of each
other as their lives flew forward on a trajectory that would finally collide
right here in this tiny town.

            “Need
help, sparkly vampire?” Andy was watching him, a worried look on his face.

            “Funny.
And no, I got this.” Paul shrugged off his thoughts. “We’ll have to make sure
the warehouse is up to code for that kind of crowd. We’ll fly down Tom Wallace
and Nancy Sandoz. They handled the Houston opening on a tight timeline.”

            “I
really didn’t think she’d get it approved,” Andy said. “You’ve got to hand it
to her. On the outside she’s so sweet and pretty, but inside she’s ruthless.
She’s not afraid to crush anybody in her way.” He grimaced as he reconsidered
his words. “Sorry.”

            “I’m
not crushed.” He focused on the screen. “Just surprised. I wasn’t thinking this
would happen, either.”

            Andy
didn’t say anything for a moment. “She sort of reminds me of you, actually.”

            “Oh,
no. Ruthless?” Paul sat forward, trying to type and talk at the same time.
“Nothing like me.”

            “Sure
she is. Maybe it’s the Southern charm. She’s soft-spoken― wait, until we
poke holes in her mantel piece.”

            “She
didn’t even yell.” Paul flinched inwardly at the memory. She’d forgiven him but
he still felt bad.

            “True.
But I guess it’s more about how she’s so concerned for how things should be,
like she’s from a hundred years ago. People don’t act like that now. I get the
feeling she really didn’t want to sue, but she was doing it for some kind of
ideal, the greater good.” Andy seemed like he was just warming up. “She’s
making a sacrifice. Everyone’s going to be angry, but she went ahead with it
because she believes she’s right. Even if she suffers for it.”

            “
Beau
geste
,” Paul mumbled.

            “What?”

            “It’s
from a book. Here, should I say, ‘inconsequential lawsuit,’ or ‘minor legal
speed bump’?”

            “The
second one,” Andy said.

            “Okay,
almost done.” He wanted Andy to stop trying to figure out Alice’s motivations
and how she was working against herself. His sleep-deprived mind couldn’t
tangle with the problem anymore. He had a company to drag out of the internet
gossip sites.

                                                           

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Once a new part of technology rolls over
you, if you’re not part of the steamroller,

you’re part of the road.”― Stewart
Brand

                                                           

            Alice
ran her hand over Van Winkle’s sleeping body and tried to sense the usual peace
of a Saturday morning spent in By the Book. The bright, fall sun shone through
the side windows, and the familiar scent of old books and good coffee filled
the air. It should have been the most perfect of mornings, but all she felt was
a knot in her stomach and an ache behind her eyes.

            She
hadn’t slept well. She hadn’t heard anything from Paul, hadn’t even glimpsed
him in the hallway. Of course he wouldn’t want to talk to her, but somewhere
inside there had been a tiny spark of hope that he could separate this lawsuit
from the two of them. It had been foolish to expect that kind of charity. Her
whole body felt heavy and sluggish with the knowledge.

            She’d
paired a dark blue silk top with delicate pearl buttons, and a fitted skirt. It
usually made her feel pretty and feminine. Today, nothing could shift her mood.
The only thing she had to look forward to was Charlie coming in for the day.

              
Alice treasured their weekend girl time,
with no interruptions from Bix and his unintentionally embarrassing remarks. They
would sort inventory, or pore over catalogues, chatting like only two book-lovers
could. Charlie would try to convince Alice to read something with a dragon or a
broadsword on the cover, while Alice would try to convince Charlie to read
something else, anything else. When they closed, Alice treated Charlie to
dinner at Babet’s Diner. Charlie reminded Alice so much of herself at that age.
Charlie’s family was happy and intact, but something about Charlie’s teenage
worries reminded Alice of the girl she’d been, raised by a mamere in a house
full of older brothers. Sometimes, a girl needed to talk to someone who wasn’t
related, and Alice was happy to be that person. Not that she had a lot of life
experience, but she tried her best.

            “Miss
Alice,” Charlie said, already talking as she came through the door. “I won’t be
helping you today. Or any other day. I can’t believe you kept ScreenStop from
opening.” She was panting with anger.

            Alice
stood up, struggling to switch between the idea of a normal Saturday in the
store with Charlie, and the angry girl who stood before her. “Okay, come sit
down and let’s talk. Let me explain why I―”

            “No!”
Charlie crossed her arms over her chest. “I always thought you were cool, bein’
a girl and havin’ your own store. But that’s not really important, is it? It’s
about how we treat each other.”

            “But
I had a reason for the lawsuit. It’s not what you―”

            “You
can’t explain it. Not in any way that changes what you did. I just can’t
believe you’d do this to Paul, especially after how he offered that grand prize
for the scavenger hunt. You just don’t get it and you never will.” Charlie
turned back toward the door, blond hair flying out behind her.

            Alice
stood there, shock coursing through her. She reached for her necklace, and
realized for the hundredth time that her parents’ rings weren’t there. Their
loss made every situation worse, like a second wave of pain.

            Paul
had won over everyone in town in just a few weeks. He’d given Bix an e-reader
and suddenly Bix was on Paul’s side. Charlie had been sucked into the promise
of a party with some kind of big prize. She tried to think clearly, but anger
spiked inside. Paul thought he could buy off the world. Maybe that’s why he’d
bought the Arthur Rackham portfolio the very first day. For just one horrible
moment she wondered if his interest in her was part of a plan, if his kisses
had an ulterior motive. She brushed the thought away. Paul would have to be a
sociopath to be so appear so generous and noble, but be so scheming in real
life.

            The
little bell on the door jingled and Mrs. Olivier walked through. She carried a
large leather tote and was dressed in a pale-blue linen pantsuit. Alice stood up,
but didn’t speak, feeling like a frog on the highway in the headlights of an
oncoming truck. Last night, Mrs. Olivier had been polite, if a bit blunt. This
morning might be a completely different matter.

            “Mornin’
Alice,” she said.

            Alice
nodded. She adjusted the front of her blouse and smoothed her skirt over her
hips.

            “You
look lovely. Are you going out?” Mrs. Olivier might have just been asking an
innocent question but Alice was almost positive she suspected Alice had a lunch
date lined up.

            “No,
I just thought it was…” She looked down.

            “Pretty?
But you always look pretty.” Mrs. Olivier smiled. “Now, I’m sure you know why
I’m here. You hear that?”

            Alice
shook her head.

            “It’s
the perfect silence of a building not being constructed.”

            “Oh,
yes. The petition.” She felt her cheeks go warm. She never should have gone
over to dinner. Now it felt as if she were repaying their hospitality with a
stab in the back.

            Mrs.
Olivier reached out and took her hand. “Alice, dear, I understand you love this
neighborhood, but so does Paul. He would never hurt it in any way.”

            “It
just doesn’t fit here, Mrs. Olivier. I’m sorry.” Alice straightened her spine. Paul
couldn’t love this place as much as she did.

            Mrs.
Olivier took her hand back. “He’s heard that a lot in his life, you know. That
he doesn’t fit somewhere. He doesn’t belong. I think that was his plan, in the
beginning, to come back and prove that he really did belong.”

            Alice
wanted to clarify that she’d said the
store
didn’t fit, but really, Paul
and his store were linked. She tried to imagine Paul being denied entry
anywhere, and she couldn’t. To her, he seemed to own the world. “I can imagine
it was a shock to learn he couldn’t just smile his way into this historic district.
Well, he did for a while. But there is a reason we have these laws. A store
like his doesn’t fit here.”

            “I
want to be honest with you.” Mrs. Olivier seemed to be choosing her words
carefully. “But first I want to say how much I like you. On any other day, in
any other season, I would be forcin’ you two together. I woulda hand-picked you
out of a crowd of pretty girls.”

            Alice
felt her face go warm.

            “You
think that stopping his store will save Natchitoches. You think it will keep
our people speaking Creole, keep our kids from movin’ away. But it doesn’t work
that way, honey. The more you fight to keep ‘em, the faster they run away.”

            “I
can’t just give up and forget everything my family had,” Alice said. “I owe it
to them to carry on our traditions.”

            “I
know, Alice. But that has nothin’ to do with Paul’s company.” She sighed. “Let
me put it another way. What are you doing to help keep our ways alive?”

            Alice
blew out a breath in frustration. She’d always thought she was a mentor to
Charlie, but that hadn’t really worked out. She was running a bookstore and
wasn’t that enough? But that didn’t have much to do with Creole culture. And
that was the heart of Alice’s gripe with technology. It was smoothing out all
the edges of her people, blending them until they weren’t any different than
any other.

            Mrs.
Olivier went on. “Paul thinks we need to keep people here, if we want
Natchitoches to stay Creole. The kids leave for the city and never come back. The
schools here just don’t have the equipment. Our kids are leavin’ school without
the basics they need. Paul met up with an old teacher and now he’s fixin’ to
fund a grant for the schools, for computer and science labs.” She held up a
hand at Alice’s look. “You think I’m just braggin’ on my boy, but I’m tryin’ to
explain. You can’t waste all your energy on petitions and lawsuits. You got to
do some good.”

            Alice
clamped her mouth closed. Mrs. Olivier made it sound as if Alice was litigious
and petty, while Paul was out educating children of Natchitoches.

            “So,
we’ve got that outta the way.” Mrs. Olivier took a deep breath. “Now, this part
isn’t real nice, either, but it needs to be said. I know my boy, inside and
out. He’s a good man. And you know I like you. But he deserves a woman who will
commit to him and support him in everythin’ he does.”

            “I―
I agree.”

            “Well,
then. You can see why I’d be here askin’ you to stay away.” Something in
Alice’s expression must have touched Mrs. Olivier because she leaned close
again and gripped her hand. “I can see why Paul loves you. But this isn’t good
for him. It’s tearin’ him up inside.”

           
I
can see why Paul loves you.
The words echoed around Alice’s brain. She
wanted to object but she couldn’t seem to get back on track.

            “So,
I’d like you to give him some space.” She let go of Alice’s hand and smiled.
“Maybe after this has all blown over, we can go out to coffee and chat. I met
your mama and daddy a few times. They were real good people and they’d be right
proud of you. I’d like us to be friends, Alice. But not right now. Not while
you’re standin’ in the way of all the good things my boy is trying to
accomplish here.”

            She
turned around and left, the little brass bell jingling one more time. Alice
lowered herself into her desk chair and tried to catch her breath. Did she just
get dumped by the mother of her not-really-boyfriend? That was a first.

            She
reached out and ran her fingers through Van Winkle’s fur. Mrs. Olivier
mentioned a grant for the schools and Alice wished she could dismiss it as
crazy mama bragging, but knew it was true. It was just like something Paul
would do. He was generous and kind. If he knew the schools were struggling in
the sciences, then he would help any way he could. The kids might know how to
post to Facebook on a smart phone, but they wouldn’t know anything really
useful, like Excel, or go even further into real programming.

            She
rubbed her forehead. She’d been so focused on the mindless entertainment but it
all went hand-in-hand. She wanted to ban one, without the other, and it didn’t
work that way. It might end up sending Cane River back to the Dark Ages like
Charlie had said.

            She’d
gotten what she’d wanted. Paul hadn’t seemed like he was going to hate her for
it, if that kiss from the other night was any indication. But somehow, she
hadn’t thought about all the other people involved. His mother, Bix, Charlie,
the whole town. She’d won and there was no turning back now.

                                                                        ****

            “We’re
making an official statement later today. That’s all I have to say right now.”
Paul tried to zip up his sweatshirt and wave the camera out of his face at the
same time. Reporters crowded in, shouting questions as he power-walked down the
sidewalk. He’d gone to Babet’s for a little breakfast and the reporters met him
as he came out the front door. He hadn’t expected the news of Alice’s injunction
to cause such a media circus.

            “Is
it true the lawsuit comes from an ex-girlfriend?”

            “Is
it true she’s your high school sweetheart?”

            “Are
you still living with her?”

            “Who’s
the other woman?”

            “Did
you promise to marry her?”

            “Is
there a baby on the way?”

            Paul
stopped short and turned so fast the woman tripped over the back of his feet.
“This wasn’t personal. I do know the petitioner. It has nothing to do with us
as a… as friends. Now, that’s all. You’ll have to wait for the official
statement.”

            He
walked the block to By the Book, doing his best to ignore more and more absurd
questions. Then he paused, undecided, a few feet from the front door. If he
walked around the back, they’d camp out in the alleyway. He’d have to get a few
of the security guards from the warehouse down there to guard the entrance to
the apartments or they’d have reporters lurking in the stairwell. Going through
the front, they might assume he was just visiting another store. He stepped
forward, putting his hand on the knob, and then stopped.           

            Looking
through the glass door, he saw Alice in the middle of the room. Her expression
was one of shock and horror as she took in the madhouse just feet away. Her
gaze locked on his. Paul saw clearly, for the first time, what his arrival in
Natchitoches meant to Alice. Her life had been wrapped in peace and beautiful
words, cushioned and protected from the ugliness of the world. It was a utopia
and one he had never clearly seen, until now.

            Paul
dropped his hand from the knob, sourness rising in his throat. Involving Alice
in his life had been a mistake. She had tried to tell him, tried to fight what
he was bringing to her town. He hadn’t listened, just barreled through like he
always did, so sure he was right.

            He
turned his back, pushing through the crush of reporters until he made it to the
sidewalk. Pulling out his phone, he dialed Andy.

            “We’ve
got a problem.”

            “Another
one? Where are you? And what’s all that noise?”

            “Reporters.
You’ve got the rental car and I need to get out of here.”

            “Okay,
it’ll be a few minutes. You can’t get into the apartment?” He could barely hear
Andy but there were thumps and rustling as if he were packing up his briefcase
in the middle of the meeting. His voice was muffled, as he covered the phone.
“Sorry, everyone. We’ll reschedule for this afternoon.”

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