She Hates Me Not: A Richer in Love Romance

by Greene, F. E.

  “I’m sure it understands our dilemma.” Kip pulled the first white petal free from the base of its bright yellow eye. “She hates me.”

  In spite of her protests, Lou smiled. “Coullion.”

  He let a second petal trail the first to the ground. “She hates me not.”

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “Not at all. Perfectly rational. She hates me.”

  Lou heaved a frustrated breath.

  “She hates me not.” Kip flicked the petal in her direction.

  “This could go on forever.” Lou eyed the flower like it was a stinging nettle.

  “I wouldn’t mind.” Concerned that she might quit the game, Kip picked several petals in rapid succession. Then he paused to count how many remained. Suppressing any reaction, he checked Lou’s face.

  She gazed at him, and not the flower, with a look he’d seen at lunch. Sweet. Hopeful. Incredulous yet compelled to believe that something lovely might grow from such an inauspicious beginning.

  He removed another. “She hates me not.”

  Lou’s arms unfolded.

  “She hates me.”

  Lou stepped close enough for their toes to touch.

  “She hates me not.”

  As Kip tucked the last petal into his pocket, Lou slid her hands around his waist. Eagerly Kip kissed her, resisting the need to stroke anything more than her hair.

  It was a good thing they kept doing this in public. Without witnesses he might not be so restrained. Lou tempted him like nothing else, and he repeated Moggie’s advice as though it were a sacred chant. He would be patient. He would be patient.

  When raindrops splattered their faces, Lou pulled away, and Kip sheltered her brow with his hand. They weren’t far from her narrowboat, and the clouds were about to part.

  “Permission to come aboard, captain?” he asked. “I’d like to see where you live.”

  Reluctance furrowed her features. “All you want is a tour?”

  “I want whatever you’ll give me. And nothing more.”

  It was the correct response, he could tell, from the way Lou’s shoulders relaxed. “Permission granted.”

  The last time they’d walked the Avon’s south bank, Kip dragged his feet like a peevish child. Now he fought to keep from sprinting as they approached the Evangeline. When he started to follow Lou on board, she stopped him by pressing a hand to his chest.

  “Hold on, Kip. I need to check something.”

  “Did you leave your knickers on the clothes horse?”

  Her rapid laugh was also strained. “How’d you guess?”

  Kip paced while he waited for the all-clear. Clearly this was a test from the Almighty himself. Patience was most certainly not his virtue.

  Finally, Lou waved him aboard. Hopping onto the boat’s front deck, Kip noticed the change from solid earth to a watery foundation. Even though his sea legs were adequate, he still clasped Lou’s outstretched arm.

  A pair of crest-shaped windows flanked the slim double doors. Next to one of those, a cluster of metallic necklaces dangled from a peg. Their lustrous colors matched the Evangeline – purple, green, and gold.

  Kip threaded a finger through them. “What are these?”

  “Mardi Gras beads,” Lou told him. “During parades the krewes toss them from floats, but you can buy them any old time in the Quarter. By Ash Wednesday, New Orleans is covered in them. I give them out whenever I’m traveling.”

  After ducking through the double doors, Kip stayed near them to get his bearings. Although he was able to stand up straight, his hair brushed the cabin’s ceiling. Lou had opened all of the hopper windows to create a cross breeze of cool air. Rain tapped lightly on the boat’s flat roof.

  Everything inside the cabin seemed compressed and cleverly shaped without a centimeter to spare. Kip could walk the boat’s length in ten paces. The cabin’s central aisle was half the width of his stride. To his left was a cast iron fuel stove, and to his right was a short chest of drawers. A small pewter medal – was it a Catholic saint? – hung above the double doors.

  Constrictive or not, the Evangeline was charming. Pale green curtains matched the cushions of rectangular bench seats that faced one another. The bench to his right was split, like a booth, by a white plastic tabletop. At the cabin’s midpoint was a kitchenette. All the furnishings were attached to the walls.

  Despite its limitations, it was cheery and clean with a feminine, but not frilly, décor. As Kip wiped his boots on a door mat with a yellow fleur de lis, he glanced down at a half-dozen framed photographs arranged atop the cabinet. Some revealed younger versions of Lou, of her sister and parents also.

  Kip itched to examine them one by one. Instead he made himself pay attention to Lou’s tour which, judging from the size of the Evangeline’s cabin, should last fifteen seconds at most.

  Lou pointed to her left which was, for the moment, Kip’s right. “If you sit down on the port couch, you’re in the dining room.” She pointed right. “Sit on the starboard couch, and you’re in the den.”

  He mimicked her motions in reverse. “Dining room. Den. I’ll call out if I become lost.”

  She laughed. “I’m standing in the kitchen. The bedroom’s behind me. The aft deck is outside the bedroom, and the bathroom is in here.”

  As Kip moved to join her, Lou opened an accordion door on her right. A plastic shower and toilet occupied a space that resembled an airplane lavatory. Complete privacy would be optional. This was most certainly a home for one.

  The kitchenette seemed the best-appointed section of the boat. Microwave. Short fridge-freezer. Gas stove with two hobs above an oven. It contained all the basic necessities aside from counter space.

  “Where’s your telly?” he asked.

  “I don’t have one,” Lou replied. “Can’t afford the TV tax. Or the TV.”

  “Computer?”

  “I use Moggie and Beryl’s.”

  Kip wanted to see the rear deck of the boat, but Lou didn’t offer, so he didn’t ask. They would have to move through the bedroom to reach it, and clearly Lou liked her privacy. He counted it a small miracle that she’d let him onboard. The last thing Kip wanted was for her to regret it.

  He returned to the array of photographs in Lou’s slice of a dining room. Above them, two items decorated the wall – a watercolor by Beryl and a handwritten poem in a wooden frame. Light from outside created an inconvenient glare while Kip read its trio of lines.

  Whither my heart has gone, there followed my hand, and not elsewhere.

  For when the heart goes before, like a lamp, and illumines the pathway,

  Many things are made clear, that else lie hidden in darkness.

  “Is this an ode to your fifolet?” he asked.

  Lou drew beside him. “It’s an excerpt from a poem – Evangeline. It starts when the Acadians were chased out of Canada. During the expulsion, Evangeline and her fiancé are separated. She travels all over America trying to catch up with him, but they don’t find each other again until he’s dying. It makes Romeo and Juliet look like a rom-com.”

  As she explained, Kip only half-listened. Some part of his brain processed Lou’s words. The rest soaked in her accent, her spirit, her scent. Lou didn’t wear perfume, not any Kip recognized, but her hair always smelled like a rose garden in summer.

  Their near-perfect day had gone swimmingly. He’d already mentioned marriage. Snuck in a reference to love. Enjoyed two proper kisses. And practiced admirable patience – especially for him.

  Then Kip remembered what he hadn’t yet done.

  Lou had stopped talking. Her smile was equal parts inviting and perplexed. “You okay?”

  Apprehensively Kip cleared his throat. The best way to remove a sticking plaster was to hastily rip it off. He hoped the same approach worked for confessions.

  “Moggie and Beryl told me,” he said.

  Lou took a step back. “Told you what?”

  “Why the photo in the Mail upset you so much. I went to vi
sit with them yesterday afternoon. They explained about your father, the money he supposedly hid, and the people who might be trying to find it – and you.”

  Kip said the words so hurriedly, he wasn’t sure Lou understood.

  “Please don’t be cross with them,” he begged. “I just want you to know I don’t care. I mean, I do care very much about you, but I’m not put off by whatever might happen. In fact, I want to help you however I can. Whilst I’m not a particularly keen businessman, I know people who are. People who can help get to the bottom of things once and for all.”

  “Mon bon Dieu,” she gasped. “You haven’t told anyone, have you?”

  “Just my brother. I asked him to do a bit of digging.”

  Lou sunk onto the couch. Elbows resting on knees, she pressed her forehead against her palms. In ragged bursts she breathed like the effort pained her.

  Apologizing, Kip sat down beside her. When he rested a tentative hand on her back, she didn’t shrug it away. A good sign.

  “I meant to tell you sooner,” he said. “I only want to help. Can you really spend the rest of your life in hiding?”

  “Not if you keep telling people about me!”

  “Ben won’t make things worse, I promise. He’s a Billy no-mates, but he’s trustworthy. There’s nobody I trust more.”

  “What did you ask him to do?”

  “Just to have a nose about, that’s all.” Kip moved his hand across Lou’s shoulders, keeping the motion slow and soft. “He’ll be subtle. And whatever he might learn, I’ll be with you to hear it – if you’ll let me.”

  Straightening, she looked over at Kip. Her green eyes were teary. Her cheeks had gone red.

  “Let me help you, Lou. I don’t want to take over. It’s not my nature anyhow. But isn’t it time for you to stop hiding?”

  Lou exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for ages. When she tilted sideways, collapsing against Kip, he caught her and held her close. For good measure he kissed the top of her head.

  “Besides,” Kip murmured. “I know you don’t hate me. The daisy has spoken.”

  Lou quivered against him while she softly laughed.

  “Is this what you wanted to tell me at lunch?” he asked.

  As quickly as she’d relaxed, she tensed again. “At lunch?”

  “You said you had something to tell me. Was it this?”

  Lou sat up. She looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.

  Before Kip could ask if she was all right, his phone gave an extended buzz. “Sorry. It’s Ben. I texted him earlier. Mind if I check it?”

  When Lou shook her head, Kip opened Ben’s message.

  Nothing yet about LA. I’ll text if I hear. But, Kip, she took money from mother.

  Kip read the message once. Then again. Then a third time to be sure. His eyes locked onto the last five words. If his brother possessed an actual sense of humor, Kip would have thought he was taking the mick. No chance of that with Ben, however. He was honest to a fault or silent as the grave.

  Lou had wedged herself into the corner of the couch – much like she’d done in the limousine on Saturday night. She appeared almost as defensive, although not so surprised, as when they first exchanged names. When she pretended to be an American heiress. And details were off the table.

  Kip tossed his phone onto the cushion between them, its message screen still on display. “Did my mother pay you money to date me?”

  "No.” Lou’s voice trembled. “She paid me not to.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lou stared at a face that she didn’t know. It wasn’t Cambridge face or Lydia face or “let’s-put-Liam-McGreevy-in-his-place” face. Instead, Kip’s expression had a thundery edge – not anger but one of those darker emotions that drove it.

  At least Lou had confessed. With a nudge from Kip’s brother.

  “That’s what I was going to tell you at lunch,” she added.

  Kip didn’t stare back. He watched his phone like it was to blame. It had gone into lock mode, the screen totally black. He made no move to send a reply.

  “How much did she pay you?”

  Lou couldn’t bring herself to name the figure. “She didn’t offer to pay me up front.”

  “How much?”

  When his blue eyes eventually lifted, Lou cringed at their indifference. Kip wasn’t furious. He was wounded. Wounded and ready to bolt. Already he’d eased to the edge of the couch, one leg stretched toward the foredeck’s door.

  Lou’s mouth felt too dry to make words. Or maybe she just wished it was.

  “Sixty thousand dollars,” she admitted. “But that’s only because I refused to go out with you at first.”

  “If she paid you not to date me, then what was Saturday night about?”

  “She wanted me to go to the gala with you and then never see you again.” Lou kept herself pressed into the corner. “Your mama was just trying to help you, Kip. She knew Catrella was going to be there and –”

  “Help me? Help me by bribing a stranger to be my escort?” Kip rose from his seat. “What could possibly prompt a respectable person to do that?”

  “I told you about my sister,” Lou reminded him. “Your mama offered to pay her medical bills. How could I say no?”

  “Well, at least we both know your price now, don’t we?”

  Her cheeks flushing, Lou stood also as frustration overtook her fear. “That is so unfair. I’m not that kind of girl.”

  Acting like he hadn’t heard her, Kip moved to the double doors. “Here I am drumming up ways to defend my honor, not to mention running about town like a lovesick pup, and the whole time you’re being paid to hate me?”

  “I didn’t know you when all this started,” she argued. “I thought it was going to be easy. One and done is what we agreed, but now –”

  From the doorway Kip interrupted. “It’s not just that you took money from her, although that’s horrid enough. It’s that you allowed my mother to determine what would happen between us. You were prepared to let her control you for the rest of your life.”

  Lou remained by the couch. “I wasn’t choosing to be her puppet. I was choosing to save my sister. You can’t condemn me for the ‘what’ without acknowledging the ‘why’!”

  “I also can’t continue to see you,” Kip said. “I had so hoped you were genuine. I thought you might be someone I could trust.”

  The words were so sterile, so matter-of-fact, that Lou would’ve sworn it was someone else talking. All of Kip’s joie de vivre was gone, along with the last of his patience. He was out the door and off the boat before Lou could figure out what to say next.

  She gave Kip a thirty-minute head start before leaving the Evangeline. Lou hadn’t bothered to asked where he was staying, although it wouldn’t be tough to figure out. There were only a few fancy hotels in Stratford, and Kip never mentioned a car or taxi cabs. He was probably staying at the Arden. Regardless, Lou didn’t want to bump into him on her way to the café.

  On Bridge Street, Lou ducked beneath an awning to send Beryl a text. Are you at home? Can I make a pass?

  Beryl’s reply was immediate. Yes, duck. Hollyoaks tonight. Any trouble?

  Lou didn’t respond. Instead, she rushed down the familiar streets, getting soaked by rain in the process. Because of the low clouds and the oncoming sunset, Stratford was already awash in fluorescence from streetlights and lampposts. As Lou dodged ambling tourists in search of their dinner, she let the raindrops mask her tears.

  By the time she reached Imogens’ side door, she’d fallen apart completely. Sobbing, she let Beryl hug her and then guide her upstairs to where Moggie waited on the couch. Steam wafted from three mugs of tea. The television was turned off.

  Lou sat down on a towel-covered chair and rung out her hair with a dishcloth. Neither woman asked her any questions while she continued to bawl. Beryl’s face was pinched with empathy. Moggie looked as tranquil as a saint. When Lou had calmed down enough to talk, she wiped her face with the cloth and reac
hed for her tea.

  “Kip found out about the money.”

  Moggie tilted her head. “He found out? Or you told him?”

  “Half and half,” Lou said. “His brother sent him a text.”

  “His brother is aware about the payment?”

  Heaving a sigh, Lou sipped her tea before relaying all the facts she knew. She held nothing back, hating the details about her own deceptive behavior. Kip had every reason to despise her. The notion made her slump in her chair.

  “Maybe I’ve been spared a heap of trouble,” she concluded. “They seem like one bracque family. And that Lydia Richmond is meaner than a moccasin.”

  “Snake or shoe?” Beryl asked.

  “Snake.”

  Beryl smiled sadly. “My nan always said that we marry a family, not a person.”

  Lou almost spilled her tea. “Who told you I was gonna marry Kip? Did he say something to you?”

  “Not to us, duck. Did he say something to you about marriage?”

  “He might’ve dropped a hint today.”

  “Oh dear,” Beryl fretted. “Even fairy-tale characters take longer than that.”

  Lou rolled her eyes. “It’s not like we made any promises. And we certainly won’t be now.”

  “You seem to be feeling better,” Moggie observed.

  “I feel as sleazy as Kip thinks I am.”

  “Hush, now,” Beryl said. “You are anything but sleazy, and if a posh toff like Kip Richmond can’t see it, then he doesn’t deserve to know you.”

  “I took money to date and diss a guy. That’s not good-girl behavior.”

  “You took money to help your sister,” Beryl corrected. “The end most certainly justifies those means.”

  “Speaking of which…” Lou tossed the dishcloth on the table. “Can I use your computer? I’m expecting an email from Amy.”

  Moggie gestured at a desk wedged into a corner. “Help yourself.”

  While she and Beryl returned to their soap opera, Lou logged on to the computer and into her account. She changed email providers as well as addresses every six months at the most. Her ledger of passwords remained tucked beneath a paperweight from a Welsh town called Fishguard. Lou hadn’t been there. If a place couldn’t be reached by narrowboat, then it wasn’t on her list.