Page 61 of Christmas at Black Cherry Retreat
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Tom groaned as he read Fee’s text. How the hell did she think he’d sleep tonight now?
More complications. Meet me at Cafe du Monde in the morning at eight. Love Fee.
Talk about cryptic. He hoped Dupre hadn’t rejected her. Underneath her layer of bravado he’d sensed Fee needed to make a connection with the guy. Tom wanted to rush over rightaway and reassure her she could do without Allain Dupre with his flashy house and million dollar restaurants.
Let me come to you now. Please. Love Tom.
He sent the terse reply and the phone beeped with an immediate answer. Tom knew what it’d say before he glanced at the screen. A polite refusal.Be like that you stubborn woman. For two pins he’d go around to Dupre’s house and throwrocks at Fee’s window to make her talk to him but there were multiple problems with his crazy scenario. The first was that it’d probably end with Dupre calling the cops on him. The second, and most important, was that Fee would flay him alive. Neither appealed.
He’d call for room service and get something to eat because it was that or head into the city and find a bar which was a lousyidea. An hour later he stretched out in bed after stuffing himself with crawfish étouffée. The spicy Cajun shellfish dish, served over boiled rice, was his new favourite food. He smiled at the idea of trying to persuade Aunt Ina to add it to the Mockingbird’s traditional “meat and three” Southern menu.
Tom closed his eyes and tried not to think about Fee but at six in the morning he gaveup. He took a long, cold shower in an effort to feel less corpse-like. When he stepped out of the hotel his eyes adjusted to the half-light as the first golden slivers of dawn crept into the morning sky. Setting off down St.Charles Avenue he started the nearly three mile walk towards Decatur Street. If nothing else it should work off some of his energy. Tom was relieved Fee hadn’t dragged themhere in the height of the summer when he’d heard the humidity was so high as to drench anyone stupid enough to linger outside for more than a few minutes.
Tom didn’t pay a ton of attention to all the fancy houses although he imagined Fee would have a field day with them through her camera lens. When he turned onto Camp Street the ordinary homes there appealed to him much more. A few housessprouted Christmas decorations already but most were clinging on to fall with bright orange pumpkins on the front steps and seasonal wreaths hung on the doors. He’d read in a guide book about the metal wrap-around awnings signifying the corner grocery shops that’d long since gone and got a kick out of spotting one still in place. Once he reached Chartres Street the French Quarter really beganand the number of hotels, restaurants and bars increased. He was tempted to stop for coffee but pressed on and walked through Jackson Square. Tom wasn’t in the mood to play tourist and headed straight for the Cafe du Monde.
Any place selling coffee twenty-four hours a day, 364days a year got a gold star in his books. They only closed once a year on Christmas Day or if a hurricane gotclose enough to threaten the city. Tom wasn’t used to walking so far on hard tarmac and sank into a metal chair at one of the street-side tables. Fee wouldn’t be here for half an hour and the overwhelming smell of hot dough frying and sugar tempted him to order a plate of beignets. Tom craved his coffee strong and black this morning and inhaled the first cup in short order. The touch of chicory bluntedthe edge of the dark roast and he gave silent thanks to the Acadians who’d brought the recipe with them from Nova Scotia. He selected his first beignet and sank his teeth into the soft square doughnut sending a cloud of icing sugar over the table and himself.
While he ate he studied the square and admired the old cathedral at one end and the ornate buildings around the edges. Tom guessedthey’d once been family homes but now were divided into ground-floor shops and restaurants with apartments over them. The residences were all fronted with intricate wrought-iron balconies draped with hanging baskets overflowing with extravagant dark green ferns. There was a distinctly foreign air about the area and Tom enjoyed the contrast with Pine Ridge.
Few people were around this earlyand Tom stretched out his legs, put his hands behind his head and rested his tired eyes.
‘Haven’t you got anything better to do, cowboy?’ Fee gave Tom’s arm a quick poke. She’d sneaked out of the house so she wouldn’t have to explain herself to Allain. After last night’s debacle she’d had enough drama.
Tom’s eyes flew open and he leapt to his feet. He threw his arms around herand pulled her against his warm, solid body. ‘I’ve been so damn worried about you I haven’t slept a wink.’
‘I need coffee. Now.’
‘Are you okay to eat here? It’s not exactly health food.’
‘You can help me out with the beignets and it’d be great if they could make the coffee with skim milk. I’ll have a glass of water too.’
‘No problem.’ He gestured to a passing waiterand quickly placed their order. ‘Come over by me. I’ve missed you too much to just stare at you across the table.’
Fee didn’t object and sat in the chair next to him. The mild weather was perfect for sitting outside and Tom’s fingers stroked her hand in a quiet, soothing rhythm. Out on the street things were starting to come to life as the locals headed off to work and the first touristsbegan to meander around. A musician was setting up his saxophone next to them and getting ready to play for tips.
‘Interesting place, isn’t it? If they didn’t have such god-awful humidity for months on end and get pounded by hurricanes at regular intervals I can think of worse places to live.’
‘I take it you don’t plan to move here anytime soon?’ she teased and was rewarded byone of his wide, sexy smiles. ‘Not even if you could bring Pine Ridge with you?’
He shook his head violently. ‘Nope. Not goin’ to happen.’
The waiter appeared with a loaded tray and set down their food and drinks before leaving them alone again.
Fee stared at the three golden beignets dredged in icing sugar and before she could be tempted pushed two straight onto Tom’splate. She took a sip of coffee. ‘I miss this so badly sometimes. This is nice and mellow but I still mustn’t drink it all.’
‘You’ve got more willpower than I’d have, sweetheart.’ Tom chuckled.
‘Pain like stabbing knives in your stomach will do that to you trust me.’ Her dry observation made him wince. ‘Hey, it’s okay.’ Fee squeezed his hand. ‘I’m learning to manage and stayingclear of alcohol and the painkillers I used to rely on helps the most.’
‘You’re a strong woman.’ His eyes, as dark and decadent as the richest chocolate, rested on her. ‘I already had one plateful of these before you came,’ Tom admitted, picking up a beignet and giving it a rueful smile. ‘It’s time you explained your mysterious text.’
The swift change of subject threw her for asecond and Fee took a small bite of warm doughnut before setting the rest back down on the plate. She fiddled with the paper napkin, screwing it up into a tiny ball and unravelling it again before proceeding to tear it into shreds. Stumbling over her words she told Tom about the meeting at the airport and Allain’s house. Fee didn’t do too badly until she reached the part about her mother and Allain’sreaction to the story about her childhood.
Tom laid his fingers on her cheek and she leaned into his familiar touch. ‘You’re being too hard on yourself again. None of this is your fault.’ The knot of tension gripping at her stomach eased. ‘I’m not convinced Allain comparing you to your mother was so terrible.’ He smoothed her hair behind her ears and pressed a gentle kiss on her mouth.‘I’m pretty sure you got most of your beauty from her plus she’s obviously a very focused, independent woman and that’s nothing to be ashamed of.’
‘I’ve never thought about it that way before,’ Fee murmured. ‘All I’ve ever seen is the lack of intimacy we have with other people…’ His eyebrows rose and she couldn’t help grinning. ‘I’m not talking about sex.’
