Page 9 of It Happened In Paris

“You think that’s a way to live? Alone and out of a suitcase?”

“It’s what I choose,” I snapped back.

“No, it’s running away. You told me once you wanted a family. I see right through you and how you can’t move on from the past. Well, you may have stopped your wedding from happening, but Janet still has you by the balls.” She squinted and peered down her nose at me, begging me to challenge her assessment.

“I was heartbroken, Mother. Devastated. Excuse me for not getting over her fast enough for you.” I couldn’t bite back a harsh response.

Suddenly, a little girl dressed in pajamas came out of the kitchen, running into Vivian’s arms. The sight of the mother holding her daughter pierced through my shield. My eyes gluedto them and followed their movement back into the kitchen, which didn’t escape Mother’s notice.

She glanced their way, then back at me with intentions as clear as the diamonds on her fingers. “She’slovely, Richard. I’ve always admired Vivian’s pluck as I dealt with her while planning Rex’s wedding.”

I stiffened, retorting like a child. “I’m not settling down.”

She gave me a look of pity, lined with smugness. “You’re not getting any younger, either. Let me help you. I’ve spoken with a matchmaker. We can hone in on a few women who?—”

“I need some air.” I couldn’t take it any longer. The warmth of the room turned into a stifling heat that threatened to choke me.

I stepped away, loosening my tie, and leaving her and the festivities behind. Outside, the cold bit at my skin, but I welcomed it as a reminder that I was still in control, the master of my fate. At least for now.

I slowly paced the wrap-around porch of the brewery, smartly built, remodeled from a Victorian home. The snow fell quietly here in Holly Creek, admittedly beautiful and serene, versus in the city where the white drifts between the skyscrapers held less romantic appeal. The chill helped sharpen my senses.

Eventually, I made my way on the porch to the back of the building, protected by an overhang off the roofline. I paused by a row of patio heaters and chaise lounges. The glow from the brewery back door cast long shadows across the floor. Otherwise, the only light came from the moon above.

I pulled a cigar from my coat pocket and lit it, the brief flare of the match illuminating my face. Not a nasty habit, only something I did when I needed to drown my sorrows. Dad smoked cigars, too, and often when things troubled me, I lit one. I felt his calming presence while the smoke curled into the night air.

Inhale. Exhale.I leaned against the railing, letting the quiet settle around me. My mind, a mess of contradictions, tangled up in thoughts of Paris so long ago and the deal with Adrien that went sour… the one that had me tucking my tail and licking my wounds all the way back to New York.

When my blood work had come back proving my drink had indeed been tainted with something at Club Aces, I vowed to ruin Adrien, but I had no proof he had anything to do with it. With a bruised ego, I couldn’t let it go.

I had contacted friends in France with connections to thePolice Nationale, spreading word of suspected drug activities at Club Aces. I’d heard they’d raided the place, and eventually the business folded. My family would be dismayed if they ever found out I had anything to do with it. My father had more honor in his business dealings than I’d displayed in the Club Aces fiasco.

I let my tie hang down and undid the top button of my shirt, the entire ordeal choking me, filling me with regret, especially considering Vivian had gone back to Adrien after our night together. She had a child with him. And now she was here—but I couldn’t seem to walk away.

“Have you ever been to Egypt to see the pyramids?” a tiny voice asked behind me, startling me and breaking the silence.

I turned, scanning from the opened back door, until my eyes landed on a girl wrapped in a blanket on a chaise, a picture book in her lap. She clutched a large stuffed tiger in one arm. Huge, curious eyes peered up at me from the tiny face of a little angel. The one who moments ago was in Vivian’s arms.

I quickly snuffed out the cigar. “I have,” I said, crouching down to her level, intrigued by her presence and her question. “What book do you have there?”

“Santa gave it to me. It has pictures of the world.” Her finger pointed from one page to the next of the slim book. A cute darkringlet fell down her forehead as she scanned the one she was on.

“Do you know what they have at the pyramids?” I asked. She shook her head. “Camels. I rode one. Not very comfortable, but they get the job done,” I said with a grin.

She giggled, a bright sound that cut through the cold like a crystal bell. “Did you really ride a camel?”

“I did,” I replied, feeling a warmth in my heart that had nothing to do with the heaters. “It was bumpy, but I didn’t fall off. Not even once.”

“Did you ride it across the whole desert?”

“Only part of it.”

“I want to ride one.” She flipped another page in her book. “Have you seen a mummy?”

“Yes, I have.”

Her eyes grew enormous, like saucers. “Have you been inside a real pyramid? I would like to see one someday. I want to see all the world when I grow up.”

“There’s a museum in the city with mummies on display.” As patron of most of the museums and major galleries there, I had access to plenty of history and culture.

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