Lowering her eyes to hide her frustration at his words, she squeezed his hand. “Maman has Brad’s cell phone number if you need to reach me.”
“We will not need it. You go and have fun.”
Delphine saw that her father had turned his attention to the TV. Feeling summarily dismissed, she went out into the living room. Clarice sat smoking a cigarette with a trembling hand. She stood at her daughter’s entrance.
Delphine gave her mother a fierce hug. “I am sorry, Maman. I’ve been a bear tonight and after you went to so much trouble on my behalf. Forgive me?”
“Of course!” Clarice said, returning the embrace.
Delphine squeezed her eyes shut. Her voice broke on a half-sob. “I love you and Papa so much. You’re all I have in the world. I just want you to take care of yourself, d’accord?”
“Mais oui, enfante.” She pulled back and patted her cheek. “Now off you go.”
Taking a breath to calm her nerves, Delphine gave her mother a lingering look before following Brad out the door.
Brad’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he thought of Delphine’s words to her mother. You’re all I have in the world. He didn’t like the idea of her feeling all alone like that. Besides, she’s got me. Doesn’t that count for something?
During the trip to the shop, he darted concerned looks in her direction. She seemed composed, but her face was pale and her dark eyes, troubled.
He wondered if she thought about their kisses from the night before. He couldn’t think of anything else, and wondered how soon he could have her in his arms again.
After they arrived at the shop, Delphine went straight to the storeroom and began to pull recently delivered chocolate ingredients from the shelves.
“You’re going to make candy? I thought we planned to touch up the paint now that we have all the cases moved in.”
A small noise was her only response. Was it his imagination or did Delphine just sniff? He tried to look closely at her to see if she was crying, but she’d turned away. “Well, um, while you start that, I guess I’ll go finish working out front.”
He waited for her reply, but when she remained silent, except for the banging of copper pots and pans, he shrugged and went to the front of the store.
Just as he was finishing up his chore an hour later, the smells emanating from the kitchen finally overwhelmed him. He dropped his paintbrush into the paint pan and went into the kitchen.
On the wooden table, a tray of chocolates grabbed his attention. He would’ve snatched one, but figured they were still setting up and not quite ready to eat. Delphine stood at the stove stirring something in a large pot. She’d somehow piled her hair on top of her head and wore a crisp new apron.
Standing close behind her, he peered over her shoulder and saw her stirring a pot full of creamy, liquid chocolate. Overcome by the heady combination of a beautiful woman who could create such ambrosia, he slid his arms around her waist and nuzzled the back of her neck.
Delphine stiffened and stopped stirring. Brad wondered what she was thinking about. He cleared his throat. “I talked to the Glendale newspaper today to set up a time for them to come out and interview you. They’ll call to confirm the appointment.”
When she didn’t respond, he closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her skin, tightening his arms around her waist.
“Please don’t do that.”
Unwilling to relinquish her so soon, he tried for humor. “What? Make calls?”
She turned in his embrace and looked up at him. Brad caught his breath at the sight of unshed tears glittering in her eyes.
He gave her a little shake. “What’s the matter? Are you regretting last night?”
Delphine lowered her gaze, her hands at her sides, her fists clenched. She averted her head. “The chocolate will burn. I need to stir it.”
Brad reached around her, switched off the stove, and set the pan on an adjacent burner. He turned back to her. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
She bit her lip, her expressive face revealing shadows of unnamed emotions. Brad could tell she struggled with something. A part of him didn’t want to know what, especially if it was bad news—like maybe she wanted to dump him. His stomach tightened into a knot.
When she looked up at him with an odd appeal in her eyes, he couldn’t help it, he had to kiss her. Brad cupped her face in his hands and did what he’d been dreaming of for the last twenty-four hours.
At first, she remained passive, but soon her hands shyly stole around his neck. Brad rejoiced at her response, but too soon, she twisted her face away.
He suppressed a perturbed sigh, wondering how she could be upset, yet kiss him so fervently at the same time.
Brad reached for her once more, experiencing a sliver of triumph when she responded for the barest moment. Then she pushed him away.
The look in her eyes didn’t bode well.
Uh oh.
Nine
Delphine knew her face must be scarlet. Her breaths came rapidly. She needed space—away from Brad’s beguiling kisses so she could think. “Y’en a marre! No more!”
She saw what appeared to be a flicker of impatience in Brad’s eyes.
“Tell me what’s wrong, Delphine.”
She swallowed, unable to think clearly with him so close. Every fiber of her being wanted to be in his arms, taking of the strength and comfort he so freely offered. But what was the true nature of his affections? Did he feel a little dalliance with her was something owed because she’d taken his family’s money? And could she really trust someone with such a lighthearted nature?
She felt even worse knowing that despite her best intentions, she’d fallen in love with him.
The realization made her want to collapse in a heap and cry a puddle onto the floor. Instead, Delphine swiped at a wayward lock of hair and made a tremendous effort to reign in her unruly emotions. “I, um, lost my job today.”
Brad frowned. “What? Why?”
“Nothing dramatic. Just cutbacks. I haven’t even told my parents.” She gave a wan smile. “I think I’m still a little in shock.” That’s the understatement of the year.
He reached up and tucked the lock of hair behind her ear. It took every ounce of Delphine’s willpower not to start crying again.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But since you were eventually planning to quit anyway, it’s not too horrible, is it?”
“It’s a week or two of income I won’t have. Bills tend to be relentless, you know.”
“I can help you out. How much do you need?”
Anger, combined with shame at being so needy all the time, surged through Delphine like a wave. She clenched her teeth, fighting to tamp down a surge of fury. “I don’t want any more of your money!”
Brad’s expression became shuttered. He leaned against the stove and crossed his arms. “Why? I have more than I need, and you don’t have enough. Sounds to me like we belong together.”
“There are some things money can’t solve,” she said. “And…and just because your family has given me a loan, just because you’ve helped out here, doesn’t mean I’m part of the deal.”
Delphine instantly regretted her words. And by his appearance, Brad didn’t appreciate them either. His face flushed under his tan and his lips thinned. She never imagined such a cheerful, easy-going man could appear so incensed. She took an involuntary step back when he approached her, his eyes glinting with anger.
“I can’t believe you just said that,” he said, his voice deceptively calm.
Delphine continued to take steps backward until she bumped into the wooden prep table. She lifted her chin, deciding to lay it all out on the line. Either way she was going to be dealing with some form of regret.
“Admit it,” she said breathlessly. “That’s why you kissed me. Because I’m around. Because you have…a hold over me.”
He shook his head, his color high. “That’s ridiculous and you know it.”
When he didn’t say anything
further, Delphine wanted to scream. She could feel him emotionally retreating from her. When he avoided her gaze, she felt sure she’d expected too much from him too soon.
He doesn’t love me.
What did you expect? You’re a charity case and he’s a flirt. Duh!
Delphine stared at the floor until the shades of the tiles began to blur. She should’ve heeded her instincts and avoided getting mixed up with someone like him. But it was beyond bearing having to say goodbye to the friendship, the safety, and the affection she’d known with him these past few weeks.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
“Delphine.”
She looked up at his handsome face and felt her heart wrench. She shrugged, steeling herself against a tidal wave of well-deserved anguish. “So what, Brad? I love you and you don’t love me. Happens everyday. And you know how I always take things way too seriously. It’s my problem, not yours. Okay?”
His eyes widened. He took another step toward her, his voice low. “You have to know that I’m not taking advantage of you.”
His hesitation and uncertainty confirmed her worse fear. The wave inside her crashed, leaving mortification foaming into the recesses of her heart. “So, I’m not the attraction? What is?” She walked over to the tray of candies. “Is it the chocolate?”
Delphine grabbed a handful of chocolate truffles, fueled by a helpless rage that eclipsed reason. “Are these what you want? Then take them!”
She hurled them at his chest. Before he could react, she scooped another handful and threw them as well. “Coquin!” she grated. “Malotru!”
“Hey! Stop that!” Brad pawed his hands through the hail of candy, finally grabbing her wrists and pinning them to her sides. The remaining chocolates in her hands dropped to the floor and rolled away.
Brad glared at her with a furious expression, breathing hard. Delphine’s heart lodged in her mouth. I’ve finally gone too far. Well, fine!
Her false bravado felt flat as tears rolled down her cheeks. Brad’s searching gaze made the last of her anger fizzle and die. This is it. He’s going to dump me and disappear forever. That’s what he gets for venturing inland from the beach.
His cell phone rang, making her jump.
It rang and rang.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” she squeaked.
“No. I’m going to talk to you, Miss D’Arleux.” He loosened his grip on her wrists but didn’t release her completely. The ringing stopped. He blew out a heavy sigh.
“Now, if you’ll give me a chance to speak, I will. No more throwing chocolate at me, okay?”
Delphine, deeply ashamed by her tantrum, could only nod. Her lips quivered with the renewed urge to cry.
His cell phone rang again. Brad made a noise of disgust and turned a step away from her. He snatched the phone from his shirt pocket and put it to his ear. “Yes?”
He swung back toward her, his blue eyes stark in his suddenly pale face. “We’ll be right there.”
Delphine grabbed his arm, alarmed by his expression. “What? Who was it?”
Shoving the phone back in his pocket, he gently took her hand. “C’mon, I’ll tell you in the car.”
After the shop had been locked up and Brad started his car, he turned to her. “It’s your dad.”
Numb from shock, Delphine sat in a stunned silence during the drive back to her apartment. She feared the worst. Brad told her that Clarice had given no other information, only for them to get to the apartment right away. When he called back, she didn't answer.
Delphine felt sick to her stomach. Her silent, agonized prayers raced heavenward until she saw the flashing ambulance lights near her building. Crying out in terror, Delphine scrabbled for the door latch as Brad parked.
She bolted from the car and raced around the ambulance to the steps of her apartment. Brad was right behind her, trying to take her hand.
She saw her mother descending the steps with the help of a neighbor. Fending off Brad’s arms, she rushed to her mother and embraced her.
Clarice raised her tear-stained face. “He died in his sleep. Oh, my Leone!”
Delphine saw the ambulance pull away from the curb. Papa! She started after it.
Brad restrained her. She struggled weakly against him, gasping at the pain mushrooming in her heart.
****
At the hospital where they gathered for the official pronouncement, Delphine leaned against a doorframe and stared down a long hallway. Somewhere down there was her father, lost to her forever. Her eyes felt hard and gritty, her prayers stifled and vague.
Brad walked up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She accepted his embrace and closed her eyes, experiencing the familiar feeling of warmth and safety she’d tried to resist.
Resting her cheek against his chest, she could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and further off, the quiet weeping of her mother in the waiting room behind her. The emotional turmoil at the shop seemed only a vague memory compared to the jarring pain of the moment.
After a time, a doctor came into the room and approached Clarice. He sat down next to her. “It appears your husband died of a heart attack while sleeping. I don’t believe he experienced any pain.”
Delphine burrowed her face into Brad’s shoulder, hating the words the doctor spoke, while somehow thankful her father’s death had been at least peaceful. She felt numb and hysterical by turns, terrified if she started crying again, she’d never stop.
After a few more minutes of low conversation about contacting a funeral home, the doctor left. Delphine raised her head and eased out of Brad’s arms. When she looked toward her mother, she saw his parents arrive. He led her over to where her mother sat.
Clarice clutched at Delphine, speaking rapid French in her distress. Someone pushed a tissue into Delphine’s hands. She passed it to her mother, who dabbed at the unending stream of tears running down her face.
They all left the hospital. Brad drove Delphine and her mother to his house, followed by his parents. The movement and activity as everyone filed into the Larsen’s living room streamed by her in a detached blur.
Someone settled her into a chair. Around her voices rose and fell, but Delphine couldn’t seem to distinguish between them. In her grief, she felt a great burden of guilt hanging over her head. She hadn’t been strict enough with her father’s diet. She hadn’t encouraged him to exercise enough.
She hadn’t been there when he died.
I failed my parents. My ambition brought me here. If I’d been content at the bakery without foolish dreams of my own business, maybe my father would be alive now.
Delphine suddenly remembered getting fired earlier that day and bit back a sob. Marshalling the last of her reserves, she pulled herself out of the downward spiral of her thoughts and focused on her mother.
Clarice was speaking about her grief, of her wonderful husband and their memories together. Delphine could only think of the consequences she was to bear, of the decisions she would have to make.
And Brad—she couldn’t look him in the eye.
Delphine pressed her hands in her lap and desperately tried to fortify her resolve for the days ahead. She must be self-reliant. The more people who helped her, the more people she owed, and she just didn’t have the power to pay them all back. How can I go on, Lord? It’s too much!
Delphine stood quickly, taking a deep breath to ready herself for what lay ahead. I must get Maman home. I must get the chocolaterie open ahead of schedule.
She heard an odd buzzing hum and wondered if an alarm was sounding somewhere in the house. She was vaguely aware of Brad standing to one side, and his mother talking very fast, but neither appeared to notice the noise.
In the next instant, the floor rushed up to meet her.
Ten
Delphine slowly opened her eyes, which felt puffy and dried out. While trying to place her surroundings, something horrible hovered at the back of her mind.
Then she remembered.
“Oh, Papa
!” Delphine pressed her face into the pillow and wept. When she felt she’d cried every drop of moisture out of her body, she sent up listless prayers for her mother and herself, too weak to care if God even heard her.
After some time, she realized she wasn’t in her own bedroom. With half-hearted interest, she let her tired gaze travel around the room. Pale yellow walls, white painted wainscoting, and botanical prints decorated the room. In the corner, next to a wooden bookcase filled with books, was a white wicker chair, where an old fuzzy, stuffed bunny slumped to one side.
A very feminine room.
The room must belong to one of Brad’s sisters. Delphine had a hazy memory of his parents insisting they stay at their home for the night. She seemed only to remember things in flashes, as if by the strobe-like glare of the ambulance lights.
Lying back against the pillow, she wondered what time it was. On the other side of the bed she saw a little white enameled clock sitting on a nightstand. Twelve-thirty in the afternoon.
Delphine gasped. How could I have slept so long? There’s so much I need to do!
She dragged her body out of bed, her movements slow and stiff. On a chair near the door, she noticed a stack of clothes from home under her purse. How had they arrived there? Mrs. Larsen was probably responsible. Delphine rifled through the folded shirts and pants.
With shaking hands, Delphine chose a lettuce-edged pink cotton shirt and a pair of blue jeans and the make-up bag from her purse. The bedroom had a small bathroom attached. She took her time in a long, hot shower, wishing her grief and worries would slip down the drain like the water.
After she dressed, Delphine French-braided her damp hair, wondering how she’d received the purple bruise on her forehead. She applied a token amount of make-up, masking the bruise with a little foundation. She didn’t care much what she looked like, but at the same time wanted to make an effort to be presentable to people who so obviously had been at pains to make her comfortable.
How Sweet It Is Page 9
