by JM Dragon
Quinn stood and walked menacingly toward Sheila when the door swung wide.
“Arnold, what are you doing here?” Sheila shrilled.
“Stopping you from bringing Sutter’s down with a defamatory accusation to one of our employees. Sheila, from this moment on, you are relieved of your position, and please don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” Arnold gave his sister a glare.
“You can’t do this, I own half of the company,” she said, her voice wavering.
“Well according to you we don’t have a company. I figure you should sell me your shares and I might even be generous if you do it today.” Arnold walked up to Sheila into her personal space.
“Ridiculous, Arnold, you are not yourself,” Sheila agitatedly replied.
“More myself than I’ve ever been. Are you going to leave, or shall I have security eject you?” Arnold crossed his arms over his chest.
“You wouldn’t?”
“Oh yes, I would, and you know it.”
The siblings had a standoff and Quinn was amazed when Sheila simply picked up her purse and left the room.
“Tim, get me Driscol on the phone. You can use this office.” He pointed to Sheila’s door and Tim scurried in that direction. “And if they don’t talk, camp outside their door.” Tim nodded and entered the room.
He turned to Claudia and gave her a warm smile. “I’ve heard all about your ability to supply the right type of caffeine fix—why not surprise me.”
“Got it, boss.” Claudia breezed out of the room.
Arnold turned to Quinn and gave her a serious look.
“So what task do I get?” she tentatively asked.
He walked toward her with a smile. “Not a task exactly just this.” He pulled her into a hug. “Figured you need this after your exploits and I’m glad you survived. If you want to talk, I’m here.”
Quinn’s heart felt like it would burst as tears welled, hell they didn’t well, they flowed. Her head dropped onto his shoulder and she sobbed like a baby.
†
Amalie Desrosiers looked over the land her son had embraced in a way he never had his birth country of France. It had always hurt. Perhaps that was why she had been hard on Genevieve when he had sent her to France after her American mother died. There were so many decisions to make, and how could she decide if they were the right ones? Hers had obviously been abominable. Until that fateful fire, she had not seen Genevieve since she left France on that rainy morning, twenty-five years earlier. She had not seen her granddaughter that long-ago morning, she had remained in her room licking her wounds from their words, or rather her accusation the night before, about Genevieve’s lack of commitment. It had taken her dear best friend, Sophia, to explain that family forgives no matter how many years had passed. Before she died, Amalie needed to accept that and make the journey for reconciliation, regardless of her failing health.
Genevieve’s car appeared and she watched as the vehicle came to a halt. Dee stepped out first and then opened the tailgate. I like that young woman, she has inner strength.
Genevieve slowly left the vehicle and walked to the back of the SUV.
Then they carried what looked like a rose tree toward the house, eventually placing it carefully on the path close to the steps.
“Grand-mère, it’s Matriarch. She’s home and I think with care she will live.”
The beaming smile Genevieve emitted was so like her son that she choked back tears. What was so important about this rose? She did not understand. “Genevieve, it is a…”
Dee sprinted onto the porch and stood next to her.
“This is the rose you gave your son many years ago when they first started the business.”
“The same rose?” Amalie gave the young woman at her side a surprised look.
“Yes. It’s the symbol of Desrosiers…our mascot I guess.”
“Thank you.” Amalie placed a hand on Dee’s shoulder. With the aid of her cane, Amalie took the steps down from the porch and walked toward her granddaughter. There was only one thing to do—she pulled her into a fierce hug.
“I love you dearly, Cherie.”
“I love you too, Grand-mère.” Genevieve gave her bewildered look.
Eventually they broke apart and Amalie looked over the rose.
“She is sick, Cherie, I’m not sure she will live.” At the startled look on Genevieve’s face she tapped her cane. “I think I know a potion that might help. Many years ago, when I was working in the business with your grandfather, it was what Alaine called our rescue elixir. I will need some herbs and if we get right to it, by the morning it should have enough power to help.”
“Thank you, thank you. We can do this can’t we, Dee?” Genevieve grinned.
“Together we can do anything, Gene.”
Amalie smiled at Dee’s words. “Excellent. Now let’s get to work.”
†
Dee watched Gene traverse the porch of Desrosiers House at least five times since she’d drawn her car up the drive, switched off the engine, and simply sat watching the love of her life. The clock on the dash gave credence to her timings. Gene had gone through so much in the past three weeks and finally they thought all the problems were behind them. Yet you’d think she had a bee in her bonnet at the rate she paced the wooden boards. What the hell could go wrong now? Climbing out of her Honda Civic she smiled as she mounted the steps to the porch, with unsettled nerves.
“Hey, are you training for a marathon you haven’t told me about?”
The pacing stopped. Gene turned to her and for a split-second Dee saw anguish in the features of the woman she loved. Then it disappeared and Gene threw up her arms.
“No, I’m hardly a marathon type of woman.”
Dee smiled and quickly broke the distance between them and took Gene in her arms and kissed her deeply. It was some time before they came up for air.
“Oh, I don’t know, depends on what the marathon is all about,” Dee whispered and gave a saucy wink. She watched as Gene went several shades pinker. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, why do you say that?” The nervous response told its own story. Dee hadn’t worked for this woman for a decade and a half without know that something was wrong.
“Just a friendly question.” Dee kissed Gene again and then walked over to the far side of the porch. “To be honest you seemed agitated when I drove up. Not that I don’t blame you for all that you’ve been through.”
“You are right, as always. I am.”
Dee blinked a few times, surprised at the response. “Can I help?”
She watched Gene thread her fingers together several times before placing a hand on them. “I love you, nothing you can say will change that. Let me help if I can. Please?”
Gene dropped into the nearest chair and Dee followed suit.
“Grand-mère has had a fall at her home. She broke her left leg in two places and is in the hospital. Her friend Sophia called me and asked…” Gene stopped speaking.
Dee’s heart dropped. Now she understood or at least thought she did. Talk about imperfect timing. Amalie had only returned home four days ago after spending two weeks with Gene. Sucking in a silent breath she smiled and took Gene’s hand.
“You must go, darling. She needs you.”
“How can I go, Dee? The business is in ruins and I’ve only scratched the surface of organizing the rebuild. Grady needs to know that Desrosiers considers it a priority to get people back to work as soon as possible.”
Disappointed that this was the reason, but understanding why, Dee stroked the fingers in her hand.
“Just because you are not here doesn’t mean that the rebuild won’t happen. Right?”
“Right.” Gene frowned, “But…”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want to leave you, Dee. If I go will you come with me?” Gene’s eyes stared intently into hers.
Dee clutched Gene’s hand tighter and stared into her tear-filled eyes.
“I’m saying
this but wish like hell I wasn’t. Amalie needs you right now, Gene, and I think if you didn’t go and something worse happened, you would never forgive yourself.” She shrugged. “I’m going to miss you every single second you will be gone but I’m certain in my heart that you will come back to me. We have lots of years left together, Gene. Amalie is not so fortunate.”
“Why can’t you come with me?” Gene’s face puckered.
Dee sighed. She didn’t need to ponder that question very long. “Like you, Gene, my family is important. My mom needs me now until we know dad is out of danger. The doctors, as you know, say another stroke may happen again. I can’t be thousands of miles away. I’m sorry.”
This time her hand was squeezed. “I guess we are both tied to our families. I just…well...” Gene pulled her as close as the seating allowed. “I love you, Dee. A part of me wants to say to hell with everyone else and be selfish.”
Dee’s heart thrummed so hard she was sure Gene must hear it. “Me, too, but then we wouldn’t be the people we are, and we would never have loved each other. I figure we’ve waited sixteen years to be together, another few weeks can’t do us any harm. What do you think?”
“I love you.”
“Good enough.” Dee snatched a kiss and then stood, pulling Gene up with her. “Let’s go and explore that love intently inside. It will keep us going when we are apart.”
Epilogue
Gene smiled as she settled on a chair opposite the kitchen counter. Her heart was no longer weary but thumped enthusiastically. Her eyes never left the woman who caused this. Watching as Dee donned an apron and began to muster up the ingredients of a Spanish omelette, Gene’s thoughts travelled to her extended absence…
The first three weeks away extended to ten weeks. Amalie was diagnosed with a severe hip problem and the doctors insisted on surgery two weeks after Gene arrived. This turned out to be a colossal disaster. Her grand-mère was allergic to one of the drugs given on the operating table and they almost lost her. Her strength to live amazed Gene, and she was released a week later from intensive care to a high-risk ward. Over the month she was in the hospital they spoke of all the things they might have shared together and hadn’t because of mutual stubbornness. Eventually laughing, they decided that it must be a family trait.
Her grand-mère had insisted she go home to Dee. At no time did she mention the business, even though Amalie had bailed the company out and the rebuild had been initiated.
“The plans are what you want, Cherie?”
Gene pursed her lips. “Honestly, Grand-mère, I make perfume not architecture or know what makes a concept building. What do you think?” She thrust the plans toward Amalie.
There was a low chuckle. “You think I know better?”
Gene caught her grandparent’s gaze and saw a light appear in the aged eyes.
“Yes. The body might age, Grand-mère, but the mind, oh I know you are still at the top of your game.”
The chuckle increased to a belly laugh. “Are you giving me permission to make decisions on the new Desrosiers factory in Grady? Remember, I am very determined.”
Gene leaned in and hugged her tight. “Right now, maybe, always, that’s what I need. Dee has that aptitude. Something, I should have learned from you years ago. I feel so foolish Grand-mère. I’m a disappointment to you and maybe Dee…”
“Your Dee understands you being away longer than you both thought?”
“Yes,” Gene confidently answered…
“Dee to Gene. Are you receiving me?”
Gene bit her lip as she looked at the amused expression on Dee’s face.
“Sorry, I was lost in thought.”
“You absolutely were. Dinner is served.” Dee laughed. She pointed to the kitchen table all set with omelets steaming.
“I’m so sorry, Dee‒.”
“Never be sorry with me, Gene. I love you.” Dee’s lips traced hers and her body throbbed for a more intimate interaction.
As they sat at the table, Gene picked up a napkin and then stared at Dee, who tried to disguise a yawn. “I know you are tired, we could have had dinner at the airport or at Ray’s. Why insist on cooking?”
Dee dropped her fork on the plate and gave her a concentrated stare. “You prefer airport food over my cooking? It’s not like you’ve had much experience of my expertise in the kitchen.”
“No, no, it isn’t like that. I don’t care if you served me a meal only fit for the garbage, I’d eat it and love it. Want to know why?”
“Yes, though for the record I’d never feed you garbage, I have to admit I’m not the best cook around these parts. I cheat occasionally.”
“Hey, why did I never send you for my lunch?” She smiled. “At the end of the day one girl’s garbage is another’s caviar. Seriously, Dee, I have missed you so much and I don’t know how to let you—”
Dee moved so fast Gene was surprised when a loving grasp held her.
“I’m just so happy you are home. I missed you so much I didn’t want to share you with anyone else and that means a teeming café or bar and my terrible cooking. Does that make sense?”
“Perfectly. Shall we eat or…” she winked.
“Oh, I think the or works so much better,” Gene throatily replied as they lost themselves in a deep kiss.
†
It was a beautiful day. The leaves were turning an attractive russet as autumn began to make its mark. Gene gazed at the epitaph on the black marble headstone, the lettering in gold.
Charles Adam Spencer, devoted husband of Francine, taken too soon. With bravery and courage, now resting in peace with his beloved.
They were a few simple words that she hoped would sum up the man she had known for such a short time, not even a week. She couldn’t believe that it had been that limited. There had been no close relatives, or any as far as they could find out and she had tried. She had taken it upon herself to arrange the funeral. Originally, she’d supposed it would be quiet, but the whole town came out in support. The stories she’d heard at the wake afterwards had taught her exactly what made up this man.
Movement in the corner of her eye drew her attention as a man with a spade arrived at her side.
“Sorry for the delay, Ms. Desrosiers.”
Gene looked at Ralph, the head keeper of the cemetery. “It’s a beautiful day.”
“Yes, it is. Now you want to plant a rose next to the Spencer graves I’m told?”
“Yes,” she pointed to the rose.
“Oh, I figured it would be a young one. Did it belong to them?”
Gene shook her head and moved to touch a flourishing new branch. “No. This might sound strange, but he saved her life.”
“I’ve heard stranger.” He gave her a smile.
“I figured it was only right that she spends the rest of her time looking over him and his wife.” She blinked rapidly as tears threatened. Giving up Matriarch had been hard, but it was the right thing to do. The rose had spent too many of her years enclosed. Now she would spend the rest of her life in the open, enjoying as many seasons as nature allowed.
It was a mirror of her own position. It was time to move on for them all.
“Well the plot has settled, it’s been three months. A good time since the ground should be firm.” He moved between the two graves and began to dig a hole big enough for the rose.
Gene inspected the hole. It was perfect. She withdrew some granules from her pocket and placed them inside the cavity. “Do you mind if I place her?”
He smiled. “Go ahead.”
Gene, with tears obscuring her view, placed Matriarch inside the hole and held her as the dirt was replaced and compacted. She stepped back and surveyed the scene before smiling. Picking up the water container she had brought, she poured the water, or rather, her grandmother’s elixir.
“It looks good, Ms. Desrosiers. I have to go. Another funeral in an hour.” Ralph walked away.
“Yes, she does look good,” Gene softly replied to the figure moving
rapidly away. Her tears flowed for Charles but also for Matriarch who had been a big part of her life. She didn’t know how long she stood there but a warm hand gently slipped into one of hers.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself. I thought you were stuck all day with the wedding preparations?” Gene’s heart beat double as she gazed into Dee’s gentle gaze.
“Oh, I escaped for a while. Besides, I wanted to be here. It looks like I’m too late. Sorry. Would you believe my parents place is only a five-minute walk away?”
“No, no never too late. I think she looks good, don’t you?”
“Yes, she does,” Dee replied then gave a sob. “I’m sorry, it’s stupid to cry over a rose bush, right?”
They both turned to each other and Gene pointed to herself, she could hardly be called dry-eyed. “Then we are both stupid.”
“I’m in the best of company then.” Dee leaned into Gene, hugging her close.
“Have you time to come back to the house? I want to show you something and right now, after this, it’s the perfect time.”
“Sounds intriguing. Of course, I have the time.” Dee smiled, and they linked hands, heading toward Gene’s car.
†
On the drive to Desrosiers House, Gene asked about the plans for the upcoming marriage of Alice and Max.
“I’m not sure who is more excited, my dad or the brides to be. The past three months have been difficult, with the factory closed, though the mayor came to the table and gave assistance to everyone employed by us. Along with the insurance, this is the fresh start I think we all need, a big wedding bash. Pretty much everyone in town has been invited at some stage of the proceedings or other for next Saturday.” Dee grinned. “You never told me how Amalie is doing after your call last night?”
Gene gave her a quick smile, and then returned her attention to the road. “Because you were exhausted and asleep on the couch when I finished.”
