Dealing with Gabrielle was hard work. Alex had made me promise not to rattle her cage, but the truth was it didn’t take much to wind her up these days. Every time I saw her, she looked like she was about to burst into tears.
Adam followed me as I walked up the path to the house, carrying my little bunch of lavender with both hands like a nervous bridesmaid. Gabrielle was on the veranda in front of an easel, stabbing at it with a brush. She usually favoured pretty pastel landscapes. From where I stood, it looked as if she was trying to murder the canvas.
“Hello Gabi,” said Adam, stepping forward to kiss her cheek.
“Oh, Adam,” she beamed. “I was so excited when Alex told me you were here. I’m sorry I missed you this morning.”
“It was early.”
“I hope Alex went easy on you.” The Parisienne wasn’t renowned for sly smiles. She surprised me by pulling one off perfectly.
“I survived.” He pointed at the canvas. “What are you working on?”
I couldn’t see the painting from where I stood, but Adam’s frown spoke volumes. “What’s it supposed to be?” he asked.
“Nothing. Just colour. Do you like it?”
“Sure,” he replied, not very sincerely.
The Parisienne dropped the brush into a jar of turpentine. I got the impression she didn’t particularly like it either.
Adam sat down on a wicker chair near the door. I glanced at him in time to see him motion with his head for me to give up the lavender.
I thrust it at Gabrielle as she reached for the screen door handle.
“For me?” she asked.
I felt like a primary school kid giving the teacher flowers. “Yeah, but there’s a reason.”
She eyed me suspiciously. “Did you do something?”
That is precisely why I hate being gifted flowers. Every bunch I ever got was by way of apology, usually from Fiona and sometimes from Ryan. They’re nothing more than a big fat sorry wrapped in a bow.
I shook my head. “No. Nothing. I just...” I straightened up and with a nod of encouragement from Adam, found my voice.
“Aed fairies, they’re Estonian,” I told her. “Unborn babies supposedly take the form of Aed fairies. They hang out in the garden because they love to play.”
She blinked at me a few hundred times, but didn’t speak. I took it as an invitation to continue.
“The problem is, when it’s time to come into the house and take the form of an actual human child, they get side-tracked because they love the garden so much. That’s where the lavender comes in.” I pointed at the bunch in her hand. “Sewing sprigs of lavender into the hem of the curtains helps them find their way inside. The wind blows the scent into the home. They follow the fragrance of the garden.”
Gabrielle looked down at the lavender in her hands. I couldn’t be sure what was going to happen next. As far as she knew, I didn’t know a thing about her fertility problems. Not only had I called her out on it, I’d sold Alex out too. She now knew he’d told me.
“And you believe this will help?” she asked.
I shrugged. “The way I see it, if your baby is an Aed fairy right now, he probably just needs a bit of direction. This is Alex’s kid we’re talking about. I’m Alex’s kid too. We like to play outdoors.”
Her next move astounded me. She threw her arms around me and drew me into a tight hug. “Tu es bien la fille de ton père,” she whispered.
I looked quizzically at Adam over her shoulder. He winked at me and smiled.
Gabrielle released me and headed into the house, mumbling something about making a pot of tea. I walked to Adam and he reached for my hand, pulling me into his lap.
“I think she appreciated that.”
“What did she say?” I asked curiously.
“She said you’re your father’s daughter.”
Her strange sentence stuck with me. Just as we were leaving, I snuck down to their bedroom. I don’t know what made me check but I walked over to the window, immediately noticing two sprigs of lavender pinned to the lightweight curtain. Alex had beaten me to it. He’d already told her about Aed fairies. I am my father’s daughter, and if things worked out how they were supposed to, I’d soon be sharing him.
* * *
There was a time when going to dinner with the sparkly couple would’ve had me cowering in the corner. Those days were over. After what I’d endured in the past year, it would be a walk in the park.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t stir the pot a little. Jasmine Tate was Pipers Cove’s self-proclaimed supreme fashionista. I dug through the packing boxes in the spare room, found a gorgeous dress that Ivy had made for me and matched it with a pair of heels that were worth more than the Audi – the Audi in its current state at least.
“What do you think?” I asked, doing a twirl as I walked into the lounge.
Adam stared, wide-eyed. “I think we should stay in for the night.”
“I’ve been playing in the dress-up box.” I fanned out the bottom of my dress. “I’m going to give Miss Tate a run for her money.”
He flashed me a half-dimpled smile. “I think you’d do that regardless of how you were dressed, Charli.”
I walked over and straightened his already-straight collar. “You might struggle, though,” I teased. “I don’t want you to be jealous of Wade when you meet him. No tears before dessert, okay?”
His sexy smile matched my sexy black dress perfectly.
“I’ll try not to be too intimidated,” he promised.
“Good man.” I patted his chest. “Let’s go.”
* * *
The restaurant at the Tate vineyard exceeded my expectations. The converted barrel room had undergone some changes since the twins’ infamous twenty-first birthday party. It was now a quaint restaurant. It wouldn’t have given Billet-doux a run for its money but it was nice – more country chic than Manhattan chic. And thanks to the peak tourist season, it was almost a full house.
There were about fifteen tables, a large stone fireplace and dark wooden furniture. The white linens and tableware brightened the small space, making it seem larger than it was. Ryan would’ve been impressed.
Adam seemed impressed too. Like me, he’d been expecting shagpile carpet and disco balls hanging from the ceiling. We’d laughed about it on the drive out there.
We arrived before our companions. It was only half a reprieve though. Lily met us at the door and showed us to our table. “It’s so great to see you again, Adam,” she chirped, weaving between tables. “We all thought you’d split up and sent Charli packing.”
Nothing Lily ever said seemed to damage me. It was as if she had no filter. Whatever popped into her head is what she said. I couldn’t hold stupidity against her. Adam wasn’t as forgiving where the Beautifuls were concerned so I jumped in before he had a chance to reply. “Are you working here, Lily?”
“Three nights a week,” she confirmed. “Sometimes I think my parents only opened it so I’d have a job. It gives me something to do.”
I shot Adam a smirk. It was a modus operandi I was familiar with. I’d become part owner in Billet-doux for the very same reason. He pulled a face at me.
Lily seated us at a table in the back corner. It dashed any hope of making a quick escape if we needed to, but on the plus side it lowered the chances of anyone I knew seeing me socialising with the Beautifuls.
Jasmine traipsed through the door a minute later. Adam stood as she approached because he was polite. I remained seated because I wasn’t. She leapt at him and kissed both cheeks. “Aww, you came,” she said, whacking him in the arm with her little sequined clutch bag.
“Of course we came,” I chimed, trying to rescue him by diverting her attention.
Jasmine gave me the once-over. “Nice dress. You scrub up alright.”
There hadn’t been any scrubbing involved. I was dressed and good to go in ten minutes. I suspected it had taken her a lot longer to get her sparkly-slut Barbie look happening.
“W
here’s Wayne?” asked Adam.
“Wade,” she corrected. “Parking the car. It’s a bit tricky in the dark. Only one of the headlights is working.”
Adam nodded, stupefied. His look became even more stunned when Wade made his appearance, wearing a ridiculously tight T-shirt with a glittery tiger on the front. I must’ve missed the memo about sparkly animal motifs being in vogue this year. He also wore sunglasses, which probably added to his troubles when it came to parking at night.
Jasmine screeched his name as he walked in, making every diner look toward the door. “Over here,” she called, waving.
He took the glasses off and hooked them on the neck of his shirt. “G’day,” he crowed, approaching the table.
“Adam, meet Wade Davis. My fiancée,” Jasmine announced proudly.
Adam stood again and held out his hand. “Adam Décarie.”
Wade’s next move beggared belief. “None of that formal stuff here, mate,” he said, right before he hugged my poor terrified husband and belted him on the back. “Good to meet you.”
“You too,” choked Adam, wrestling free.
Jasmine clicked her fingers, beckoning Lily. She rushed over with menus. I quickly scanned mine, trying to work out what would take the least amount of time to prepare so we could get the hell out of there.
“Not bad digs, eh Adam?” Wade asked, peeking at him over the top of the menu.
“Very nice,” he replied, still sounding traumatised.
“The food is great too. They do amazing dolphin potatoes.”
From the corner of my eye I could see Adam’s expression change as confusion set in. I should’ve forewarned him that he’d be taking a crash course in Wade-speak.
“Dauphinoise potatoes?” he asked.
Wade stared blankly across the table at him. “That’s what I said.”
I squeezed Adam’s knee under the table as I spoke. “Adam’s French is a little rusty, Wade.”
“No worries.” He grinned. “It’s a complicated word to pronounce.”
Adam took a long sip of water that I was fairly sure he didn’t need.
“Your family is in the restaurant business too, right, Adam?” asked Jasmine.
In a million years, I’d never understand how they got their information. I thought Bente was good. Her journalism skills had nothing on the residents of Pipers Cove.
“My brother is, yes,” he confirmed.
“What about you, Adam?” asked Wade. “What do you do?”
Jasmine reached over and slapped his chest. “I told you,” she snapped. “He’s nearly a lawyer.”
“And you, Charli?” asked Wade, quickly recovering from the whack. I suspect he was used to it.
“Charli doesn’t need to work. Adam is loaded,” said Jasmine answering for me.
Adam took offense, as I knew he would. “Charlotte is an accomplished photographer,” he defended. “Her pictures are on display in Manhattan.”
The man had a way with words. Hanging my prints on the walls of Billet-doux hardly qualified me as accomplished.
“Really?” drawled Jasmine, widening her kohl-heavy eyes. “I should get you to take some pictures for my salon. I have my own salon now. Did you know?”
“No, I hadn’t heard. I assumed you still worked for Carol.”
Wade’s hand flew up, making me jerk back. “We don’t mention Carol Lawson. She’s the devil.”
Jasmine dropped her head, leaning down to hiss. “She wasn’t happy that I branched out.”
I actually wanted to hear the story but decided against asking her.
“Envy-ness,” scoffed moronic Wade. “That’s all it is.”
Adam glanced at me, silently willing me to get him out of there. I tried to make it as painless as possible. I switched the topic of conversation to their wedding plans – and that’s where it stayed for the next two hours.
The Beautifuls were at their best when talking about themselves. We were at our best when we weren’t answering intrusive questions; so it was a ploy that benefited all of us. We managed to finally escape after dessert, relatively unharmed and with all our wits about us.
As we got to the car, I stepped in front of Adam blocking his path. “Put your hand to your heart and repeat after me,” I demanded.
He did as he was told.
“I, Adam Décarie, solemnly vow never to accept dinner invitations from Beautifuls again.”
Grinning, he repeated the statement.
“Good. Well done.” I stepped aside and he opened the door for me.
“I think you enjoyed it,” he teased. “You seemed very interested in the discussion about chocolate fountains and ice sculptures.”
I slipped into the seat. “I was trying to be nice.”
“I’ve never known you to be nice where Jasmine’s concerned.”
“What can I say? I’m over drama.”
I’d seen enough of it to last me a lifetime.
December 26
Adam
The drive home from the vineyard was mostly silent. Charli was in a world of her own unless I asked her a question.
“It’s a full moon,” I noted, dipping my head to look up through the windshield. “My dad used to tell us that a man lived on the moon.”
“Jean-Luc told you that?” she asked, surprised.
I glanced across at her and smiled. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Hmm,” she replied. “It’s a nice story, but not true.”
“Charlotte!” I tried to sound shocked. “Are you telling me there is no man on the moon?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Your dad suckered you.”
“I’m so disappointed.”
“You should be. He got the tale totally wrong. A woman lives on the moon. Her name is Clotilde. She’s a French fairy.
I smiled ahead through the windshield. “I like her already.”
“I thought you might.” She giggled. “It’s her job to guide lost mortals to their happiness,” she explained. “If you look up at the full moon and ask her nicely, she’ll hook you up with your bliss. She drops La clé de la vie down to you.”
“The key of life,” I translated.
“Your French has improved since dinner, Monsieur,” she praised, making me laugh. “Not all shooting stars are stars. Sometimes they’re just La clé de la vie dropping to earth.”
“So what do you do with the key?”
“You have to find the gate it opens. And when you do, you find your bliss.”
“Have you ever been tempted to call on Clotilde, Charlotte?”
“Not since I met you,” she replied. “I’d be too worried that the key she dropped me wouldn’t fit your gate.”
* * *
I think I enjoyed Charlotte most when she was on home turf. She was calmer, happier and far more settled. She also liked to sleep late.
I decided against waking her that morning and opted for a run along the beach instead. Getting to the trail by cutting through the back yard of the house next door was something I’d done a hundred times. It was vacant the last time I’d been there so no one minded.
It wasn’t vacant any more. I was embarrassed, but the policeman who was standing there as I broke through the bushes, just looked confused.
I came to a stop and ripped my headphones from my ears. “Hello.”
“G’day.”
“I’m Adam.” I pointed behind me. “From next door.”
He frowned. “I’m Flynn. I live here. Charli never mentioned you were coming.”
“Was she supposed to?”
He shrugged. “None of my business. How long are you in town for?”
That was none of his business either. “A while,” I muttered unwillingly.
“Charli’s a good girl,” he announced, frowning at me. “She doesn’t deserve a hard time.” He sounded like a poor imitation of her father – someone who actually had the right to try menacing me. I had no idea what he was accusing me of, so I said nothing. “Where is she this morning?” he as
ked, craning his neck as he looked past me.
“Asleep.”
Constable creepy stared at me for a long time, leaving it up to me to speak again.
“Okay then. Well, I’m heading to the beach.” I pointed to the trail. “I won’t cut through again. This house was vacant last time I was here.” With a bit of luck, it would be vacant next time too.
“Are you planning to visit often?” he asked.
Who was this dick? “Over and over again, Flynn.”
I don’t know if he said anything else. I put my headphones back in my ears and made a run for the trail.
* * *
I got home an hour later, showered and had breakfast before returning to the bedroom. Charli’s position hadn’t changed. I looked down at my creature of mayhem and felt like the luckiest man on earth, for no other reason than I loved her. Life without Charli was structured, organised and dull. Any normal man would’ve been thrilled to give it up for her. I was beginning to realise that there was something really wrong with me.
I lightly traced the arch of the tan lines where her panties rode up, making her stir but not wake up. I made my own line up her back, kissing my way up to her shoulders. Finally, she woke. She turned over and I fell down beside her on the bed.
“Sorry,” I whispered insincerely. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“What time is it?” she mumbled, grabbing my arm to check my watch.
“Not too late. Go back to sleep if you want to.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“Watch you some more,” I replied unashamedly.
She breathed out a quiet giggle. “That’s wrong on so many levels, Adam.”
“Au contraire, Coccinelle. I find it fascinating.”
“Really?” she asked dryly.
I skimmed my finger over the white line on her hip. “Strange things happen when you escape Manhattan.”
“Like?”
“Like, you get these cute little tan lines,” I replied, grabbing her.
“I do,” she agreed, wriggling. “Sunshine will do that to you.”
I picked up a wisp of her hair and twisted it around my finger. “Your hair gets lighter too.”
“Sun, and probably salt.”
“You’re happy here, aren’t you?”