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French Quarter Kisses

Page 18

by Zuri Day


  “Pierre.” The word came out on an anguished breath, through trembling lips in a face strained with uncertainty.

  “Mom.” He stood there, planted to the floor as a tsunami of emotions swept through him. At once he was the toddler who clung endlessly to a mother’s bare leg. The kid who stole lavender irises from a neighbor’s yard for her birthday. The teen who’d refused to look back on a bus bound for Houston. The man who stared into eyes so like his own. The son who still loved his mother.

  His eyes skittered from the pain of hers to hands clenched tightly together. Hands that slowly opened, shaky arms that raised and stretched, offering a hug. Pierre stepped stiffly into her embrace. The one arm he wrapped around her waist was less for affection and more to keep him standing upright.

  “Oh, son!” His mother’s breath warmed his ear as she crushed herself against him. “Pierre, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I left you. I’m sorry for everything.”

  She continued to cry and mumble. Tears streamed down her face as she placed a hand on each side of his and stared into his eyes. Pierre stood still, his own eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Inside, he screamed with relief at seeing his mother’s pretty face. A bit older, her hair shorter and lighter, but otherwise basically the same as he remembered. His heart nearly burst with the emotion of the moment. But he held these feelings in a masculine grip of fear and pride. He’d loved this woman with his whole heart once, and it had been broken.

  “It’s hard to let go of you for even a moment.” With a final squeeze, Lana stepped back. “Please, come in.”

  Pierre entered the lavishly appointed room with wraparound windows that took in the French Quarter. Ironically, his restaurant was just beyond its view, rather like his mother had been from his for the past fourteen, almost fifteen years. He crossed the sitting room and looked curiously into the bedroom on his way to the windows.

  “They’re out, Bernie and Chloe, taking in the sights. It’s her first time here and I wanted this moment to be just between us.” Pierre continued to stare out the window. He wanted to stare at her, but to do so might break him. “Would you like to sit down?”

  “I don’t have much time. I’m on my way to the restaurant to prepare for the party.”

  “You can’t begin to know how proud I am of you.”

  He gave a sarcastic chuckle. “No, I can’t.”

  “I’ve followed everything you’ve done since you went on TV. Once I found Lisette online, I followed her, too. Like a voyeur, scavenging the internet for every scrap of news I could find on the two of you. You raised yourself and your sister better than I ever could, had I stayed here. What you’ve done on your own is beyond anything I could have—”

  “Why didn’t you come back?” Pierre spun around, his eyes boring into her with unflinching ire. “You found Grand-Mère dead. It shook you up. I get that. Life was hard for you here and when you had the chance to escape, you took it. I get that, too. But why didn’t you come back?”

  Pierre’s voice became firmer, louder, as he crossed to where Lana sat. “After arriving in the city of champagne wishes and caviar dreams, after getting a home and a husband and having a child and making a life...”

  His eyes glistened, but he dared tears to fall. The weight of the moment was so heavy Pierre’s legs could not hold him. He sat in the chair facing her, his voice now raw, low. “Why didn’t you come find us? Or even call? All those years that you saw us online. It never occurred to you to send a letter, an email, a tweet? To reach out to your children, the ones you abandoned? Why did you let us believe you were dead for all these years? Throw us to the wolves and leave us to fend for ourselves or get eaten alive?”

  Lana reached for a tissue and dabbed at tears that refused to stop flowing. “I understand your questions, Pierre, and I wish I could answer them. But, baby, there is no answer, no reason that would justify what I did to you and Liz. The woman who left New Orleans was frightened, weak, broken. Bernie’s offer to take me with him felt like a lifeline, not only from Katrina, but from the flood of failures that was my life. I didn’t tell him I had children. Given what had been happening with me and Liz’s dad, I was afraid to tell him, afraid that he’d leave me there in that mental ward. And I felt that if he left me there, I’d never walk out on my own. I convinced myself that it was okay to leave you with relatives. Told myself it was just until I got settled and found the right time to tell Bernie about you.”

  “But the right time never came.”

  Lana shook her head. “Life moved so fast. Everything happened so quickly. My mind spinning with new places and people and a completely new, totally foreign way of life. I was terrified of failing again. Determined to erase the struggling, abused teenaged mom and become the sophisticated doctor’s wife that Bernie deserved. In the middle of that chaotic, terrifying first year, I learned I was pregnant. I came the closest to telling him then. One night as we lay in bed and he shared his happiness at becoming a dad. He was already forty-nine by then and resigned to never having children.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I couldn’t. Too risky, I thought. Too much to lose. I’d tell him after the baby... There was always a reason and at the same time there was no reason ever good enough. The more time passed, the bigger the lie became in my mind. Then when I found you two online and saw how well you were doing, amazingly really, I thought it better that you didn’t know. Again, I don’t know why I felt that way, Pierre, but I did. I didn’t feel worthy of being in the life of someone so amazing as you. So handsome and talented, with such a big heart. One that helped his sister be successful, too.

  “I don’t know what will happen after tonight. More than a decade of pain and neglect can’t be wiped out in a moment. But I want to thank you for coming here, letting me see you and hold you and smell you like I did when you were a baby. And for going out of your way to make Lisette happy. She’s going to be over the moon.”

  The door opened. A kindly looking older man with salt-and-pepper curls and an authoritative demeanor stood there, clearly surprised to see Pierre was still present.

  “I’m sorry, hon,” he said to Lana, his warm brown eyes sending love that could be felt across the room.

  Behind him the lively chatter of two teens faded as they entered, saw Pierre and Lana, and stopped behind Bernard.

  Lana looked at Pierre.

  “It’s okay,” he told her, as he took in a tall, lanky beauty who looked more like him than Lisette did, just as she’d told him.

  Introductions were made, a bit awkward but not hostile. When Pierre left moments later, Lana asked to hug him again. He gave her permission, and this time, he hugged her back.

  Chapter 30

  Roz pulled in front of the valet stand at Pierre’s restaurant. The wheels had barely stopped rolling before a handsome young man with bright eyes and a sincere smile stepped up and opened her door.

  “Good evening, ma’am. Welcome to Easy Creole Cuisine.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You look beautiful tonight.”

  Roz opened her mouth to protest, swallowed the objection and matched his smile. “Thanks.”

  She smoothed her dress’s velvety fabric over her stomach more to quell a sudden case of nerves than anything else. It was crazy to be anxious. In a twist of fate, she’d been not only the catalyst for this dinner happening tonight, but the grand event’s premiere planner. She knew that everything inside the small private room was now perfect. That the floor had been covered with furry white carpeting. Deep red covers transformed the chairs and were secured with wide iridescent, beaded bows. The twelve-foot tree that anchored the corner opposite the room’s entrance was also decorated with Lisette’s favorite color—in bling. The boxes beneath the tree were filled with thoughtful gifts, some with name tags. Others to be used in games that were planned. The DJ had arrived just before Roz left the restaurant to shower a
nd change, and minutes after Pierre entered the side door looking delicious and devilish dressed in black. She knew he was there to finish what Riviera and the other cooks had started, to make sure every dish was perfect for his baby girl. They talked for less than five minutes before she headed out, but he’d called her after leaving the Ritz. Roz knew that Lisette’s dream would come true.

  When Roz entered the room, its final transformation almost took her breath away. She pulled out her phone and snapped pictures of the sparkly wonderland. Hearing laughter, she looked up and saw Stefanie flirting with the DJ. “Figures,” Roz mumbled, walking over with a smile.

  The two friends went outside and were talking to Buddha when Lisette and her entourage arrived. They stood in silence as the uniformed driver opened the door with a flourish and seven stylishly dressed ladies exited the car. As beautiful as they all were, Lisette was a diamond in the cluster of jewels. Her long black hair was swept up in a loose chignon with a few wispy curls tumbling over her shoulder. Roz’s gift to her, a deep red velvet stretch mini with long sleeves and peekaboo shoulders, emphasized the hourglass shape that regular workouts and good genes had designed. Roz watched her carefully walk toward the steps on beaded heels.

  Buddha raced down to help her ascend. She stopped and gave Roz a big hug.

  “This is so beautiful!”

  Roz laughed, hugging her tightly. “You haven’t even seen the room!”

  “I don’t have to. Pierre told me it was amazing, just like you.”

  “He said that?”

  “I added that last part.”

  Roz walked inside with Lisette, wanting to see her face at the big reveal. They reached the closed door. Lisette started to open it, then turned once again.

  “I talked to Mom earlier today. She told me about calling you, asking for your help in changing Pierre’s mind. I know you tried. Thanks for that.”

  “You’re welcome, Liz. Don’t give up on your brother. Healing takes time.”

  “I know.” Lisette took a deep breath, opened the door and screamed. The DJ fired up the music. Cocktail hour had begun.

  Roz sneaked away and found Pierre in the kitchen.

  “They’ll be here at eight,” he whispered. His eyes almost sparkled as he gave Roz a quick kiss, then stirred the gumbo appetizer a final time. He reached for a spoon, dipped it in the pot and lifted it to Roz’s lips. She blew on it gently before tasting it.

  “That’s almost better than sex,” she whispered back.

  “You think so, huh? Later on, trust me, I’ll make sure that’s not the case.”

  At seven forty-five, thirty invited guests found their names on ornamental place cards and sat down. Roz walked over to Lisette and led her to the center table, where they both seated themselves. Roz purposely placed Lisette with her back to the door.

  “Who’s sitting in those seats?” she asked.

  “Pierre will sit here,” Roz said, pointing to the chair beside her. “Then three lucky winners will get to join the princess center stage.”

  “Then we’ve got to rig the game, because my two besties need to be here and we have to make sure Craig is sitting next to me.”

  “I thought I felt some rhythm between you two. He’s cute.”

  Lisette winked and beamed.

  Just before eight the door opened and a line of waiters entered carrying the first course. Pierre entered behind them. He’d changed from his chef’s whites and wore a black Armani suit with a black silk shirt and striped tie.

  “When are we going to start the game?” Lisette whispered. “I want my friends to join me.”

  Roz looked beyond the birthday girl’s shoulder. “I think we’ll fill those seats right now. We have some late arrivals.”

  With a slight frown, Lisette turned around, just as Lana entered, followed by Chloe and Bernard. Lisette’s mouth dropped as she stared wide-eyed at Roz and Pierre, then over at the rest of her family. She ran to hug them, her joy so effusive it lit every corner of the room.

  * * *

  Several hours later, a partied-out Roz and exhausted Pierre entered his home and headed straight for the bedroom.

  “I think I’m going to take a bath, babe. I don’t have the strength to stand up for a shower.”

  “Should I join you?”

  “I was hoping you would.”

  Pierre filled the tub, turned on the jets and then eased into the swirling water. He reached for Roz as she entered and pulled her against him. She shifted to lean her head on his shoulder.

  “Tonight was amazing, babe. Lisette was so happy,” she murmured.

  “I know. When we took the family picture I don’t know which was brighter, the flash or her smile.”

  “What did you think about Dr. Stern?”

  “I didn’t want to like the man who took away my mama. But she told me how he reacted when she finally came clean and told him about us.”

  Roz looked at him. “What did he do?”

  “She said he cried. Can you believe that? A stranger crying for us? She said it hurt him to know that she’d carried that burden alone all these years, and that they could have raised more children together.”

  “Wow.”

  “That’s what I said. Mom wants us to plan a vacation, go somewhere all together where we can talk, and get to know each other.”

  “Sounds like a wonderful idea.”

  “Will you come with me?”

  “I’m not family.”

  “Yes, but you’re the reason I have one again.”

  They kissed.

  “Hey, how’s the job search going?” he eventually asked.

  “Slow.”

  “Are you okay financially? Because if not, don’t be proud. Let me know. It’s because of me you’re not working.”

  “I appreciate that, but right now I’m okay. As long as I can pay my mortgage, I can survive.”

  “You could always move in here. I’m hardly home and there’s plenty of room.”

  “What, so you can throw me out the first time we have a fight? No, thank you. I only stay in homes where my name is on the paperwork.”

  “Hmm.”

  The two finished their bath and climbed into bed, ready to make love. Their minds said yes. Their bodies said no. Pierre asked for a morning rain check, and they spooned their bodies together beneath the covers. Roz went to sleep with a smile on her face, totally unaware that she’d given Pierre an idea for the perfect way to show his eternal gratitude.

  Chapter 31

  Roz stepped out of the shower into one of three rooms that made up the master bath. Pierre’s offer for her to move in was more than generous, and had surprised her. The house was beyond amazing, more beautiful than any she’d ever seen or imagined. But Roz had worked hard to become a home owner and felt more comfortable in her nineteenth century bungalow than she’d ever felt growing up in Eastover. Those emotional scabs from her formative years had healed, but the scar remained. She wondered if she could ever be comfortable in a house that could fit her bungalow in it ten times over.

  After brushing her curls into a ponytail, Roz shimmied into her underwear and headed to the walk-in closet for the colorful maxi she’d recently ordered online. Just as she stepped into black, flat sandals, Pierre walked in and wrapped his arms around her.

  She gasped. “Pierre! You just scared the bejeebers out of me!”

  “Sorry about that,” he said with a laugh.

  “Sure. Sorry, not sorry. What are you doing here?”

  “I live here, remember?”

  “You know what I mean. It’s seven o’clock on a Saturday, the restaurant’s busiest night. Did you forget something? You could have called and I would have brought it to you.”

  “I didn’t forget anything, but I did come to pick something up.”

  “What?”

>   “You.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, and it looks like you’re dressed up to go somewhere, so my timing is perfect.”

  “Really? You’ll come with me to an art exhibit? You might like it,” Roz continued, reaching for a pair of silver hoops and a bracelet to complete her outfit. “It’s over at the—”

  “Doesn’t matter where it is,” Pierre interrupted, grabbing her hand. “We’ll have to do that another time.”

  “Pierre, wait. You can’t just change my plans like that and expect me to go with you.”

  “Why not?”

  “How do you figure that what you have in mind is better or more important than the plans I’ve made?”

  “Because I made the plans, that’s how I know.”

  Roz stopped, pulled her hand out of his grip. “I’m serious, Pierre. I’ve been looking forward to seeing this exhibit ever since I heard it was coming to town. Not only that, but this is work related. I’ll be taking notes for a story that will hopefully sell.”

  Pierre leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he pondered her statement. “Look, I took the night off to spend it with you. You were right with what you said the other night. We’ve never had a proper date. Except for Mondays, I’m always working. And I’m not even off then. You deserve more than Monday night, early mornings and French Quarter kisses in the middle of the night.”

  “Listen to you, sounding all poetic. French Quarter kisses, huh? Did you come up with that all by yourself?”

  “Was that special?”

  “Quite. I appreciate you wanting to take me out. I just wish you’d called to let me know.”

  “Tell you what. We’ll do both. Make a quick stop where I wanted to take you and then, if you still insist on going, stop by wherever it is you want to go.”

  “If according to you we’re doing both, I won’t have to insist, will I?”

  He kissed her on the nose. “You’re so smart. Now come on. I don’t want to be late.”

  Roz was peeved, but she bit back a sarcastic response, grabbed her purse and walked with Pierre to the garage. She headed toward the SUV, but he passed it and continued on to his “baby,” the black Ferrari.

 

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