“I’m your dearest friend, aren’t I?”
“Yes, but—”
“And I’m worried about you. You need sex, Laurant. It’s good for your complexion.”
Laurant began to scribble on the notepad. “What’s wrong with my complexion?”
“Nothing sex wouldn’t help. It will bring color to your cheeks.”
“I’ll use blush.”
Michelle let out a loud, exaggerated sigh. “You aren’t going to tell me, are you?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Is he really just a friend of your brother’s?”
Laurant bowed her head. She felt horrible about lying to her best friend, but she knew that when this was over and she could finally tell Michelle the truth, she would understand.
“No, he isn’t just a friend.” She turned in the chair to look at Nick. He was standing in the front hallway with the other agent and nodding at something the man was telling him. His expression was somber until he caught her staring at him. Then he smiled.
She turned back to the wall. “The oddest thing happened, Michelle,” she whispered.
“What?”
“I fell in love.”
Michelle was immediately skeptical. “No, you didn’t. You actually allowed yourself to fall in love? I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true.”
“Honest? It happened awfully fast, didn’t it?”
“I know,” she replied. She picked up the pen again and began to draw.
“He must be something else to get through all your defenses. I can’t wait to meet him.”
“You will, and I know you’ll like him.”
“I can’t believe this. He must have knocked you over to get your attention. You fell hard, didn’t you?”
“I guess I did.”
“This is mind-blowing,” Michelle exclaimed.
“It’s not that shocking,” she said defensively.
“Puh-lease.”
Laurant laughed. Michelle always put her in a good mood. She was so dramatic and very open in her feelings and attitudes, whereas Laurant kept everything close to her heart. Michelle was the only friend since high school whom she had ever confided in.
“I know what goes on in that warped head of yours. You’re always trying to figure out what’s wrong with the guy, and you’re always playing it safe. Just because you got burned once—”
“Twice,” she corrected.
“I don’t count the college guy,” Michelle said. “Everyone gets her heart broken in college at least once. I’m only counting the creep from Chicago.”
“He was a creep,” Laurant agreed.
“And just because you misjudged him, you concluded all men were scum. Except my Christopher. You never thought he was scum.”
“Of course I didn’t. I love Christopher.”
She sighed. “I do too. He’s so sweet and wonderful.”
“So is Nick.”
“Don’t mess this one up, Laurant. Go with your feelings this time.”
“What do you mean, don’t mess this one up?”
“With your history . . .”
“What history?”
“Don’t go all irate on me. I’m simply telling it like it is. You don’t have a very good record with men around here. Want me to go through the list of men you’ve rejected?”
“I didn’t love any of those men.”
“You never let yourself get to know any of them long enough to find out if there was a future or not.”
“I wasn’t interested.”
“Obviously. Everyone in town was so certain that Steve Brenner would be able to get through that thick shell of yours. I heard he was telling people he wanted to marry you.”
“That’s what I heard. I don’t even like the man, and I certainly never encouraged him. He gives me the creeps.”
“I like him, and so does Christopher. Steve is charming and funny and witty. Everyone likes him but you.”
“Bessie Jean Vanderman and her sister don’t like him.”
“Please. They don’t like anyone.”
Laurant laughed. “That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is. They dislike the Catholics because they’re too pushy, and I just heard that Viola thinks Rabbi Spears is running a crooked bingo game.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Would I make that up?”
“Tell me something. How did you find out so quickly that Nick was with me?”
“The hotline. While Bessie Jean was standing out front, her sister snuck back inside, called my mother, and she told me. We all know how Viola loves to embellish. She said you were getting engaged, but mother and I didn’t believe her. Do you think you will marry Nicholas one day, or is it too soon to ask that question?”
“You just asked me if we slept together,” she reminded her.
“No, I asked you if you had sex.”
“Actually, Viola wasn’t embellishing. I am going to marry him.”
Michelle shrieked again. “Why didn’t you tell me right away. You’re serious? You’re really . . . I can’t believe this. It’s happening too fast for my little brain to take in. Have you set a date yet?”
“No,” she admitted. “But Nick wants to get married real soon.”
“Oh, God, this is so romantic. Wait until I tell Christopher. You’re my maid of honor,” she said then. “So?”
The hint wasn’t subtle. “Will you be my maid of honor?”
Michelle paused to shout the news to her parents. Both of them had to take a turn on the phone congratulating Laurant, and by the time Michelle was back, ten more minutes had passed.
“Yes, I’ll be your maid of honor. I’m honored that you asked me. Oh, that reminds me. I called you to tell you your dress is ready. You can pick it up tomorrow. Try it on one more time, okay? I don’t want any screwups on the day of my wedding.”
“All right. Anything else?”
“The picnic,” she said. “I expect to meet Nick then.”
“What picnic?”
“What do you mean, what picnic? The abbot’s throwing a big thank-you party at the lake for everyone who worked so hard on the renovations.”
“When was this decided?”
“Oh, that’s right. You were out of town. It was in the Sunday bulletin, but you were in Kansas City. Oh, my God, I forgot to ask. The news about Nick turned me into a blithering idiot I suppose. It was so . . . un-you . . . that it was all I could think about. I forgot to ask. Is your brother all right?”
“Yes, he’s fine. He got a clean bill of health this time.”
“Then no chemo?”
“No chemo.”
Michelle sounded relieved. “Thank goodness. Is he back home yet?”
“No, he and a friend are going to drive my car back as soon as the repairs are done. The transmission was slipping.”
“You need to buy a new car.”
“I will, one of these days.”
“When you can afford it, right?”
“Right.”
Laurant suddenly dropped the pen. She hadn’t been paying attention as she scribbled on the pad, but now she saw what she had done. There were hearts all over the paper, broken hearts. She ripped the paper from the pad and began to tear it up.
“Father Tom still doesn’t know all the money’s gone, does he?”
She glanced over her shoulder to see if Nick and the other man were still in the hallway, but they were gone.
Even though she was alone in the room, she still lowered her voice when she answered, “No, Tommy doesn’t know the money’s gone. You and Christopher are the only ones I’ve told.”
“Heaven help you if Tommy finds out. Put yourself in his place. He assigned his interest in the trust to you when he entered the seminary, thinking that your grandfather’s estate would be secure and that you would be set for life. How is he going to feel when he finds out those slimy lawyers were stealing every cent in the trust by charging exorbitant fees,” Michelle railed. The more she talked about the injustice, the angrier her voice became. “Millions of dollars in fees,” she reminded Laurant. “They should rot in jail. What they did to you was criminal.”
“Not to me,” Laurant corrected. “To my grandfather. They betrayed him, and that’s why I went after them.”
It had taken her a year to find an attorney who was willing to take on one of the largest and most powerful law firms in Paris, and even he had resisted at first, until he looked over her papers and saw what they had done. His position radically changed then. He wanted to put them out of business. The suit was filed the following morning.
“Don’t lose hope. You have to keep fighting to get what’s rightfully yours.” She sighed over the phone. “Lawyers are scum buckets.”
“Shame on you. You’re marrying a lawyer, remember?”
“He wasn’t a lawyer when I met him.”
“Michelle, pray this is settled soon. I’ve spent almost every dime I have on legal fees and renovating the store. I had to borrow money from the bank too. God only knows how I’m going to pay it back.”
“The lawyers you’re fighting are hoping you’ll give up and go away. Remember what Christopher said? That’s why they keep filing all those motions or whatever to delay the final court hearing, but if you win again this time, they have to pay up.”
“And within ten days,” Laurant said.
“Well, hang in there. You’re close to the finish line now.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Mother’s yelling at me. I have to hang up. The picnic’s at five. Don’t be late.”
“I don’t understand why the abbot scheduled the party so soon. The renovations aren’t finished yet, and I’ll just bet the scaffolding is still in the church.”
“It’s the only time that would work with his busy schedule,” Michelle explained. “And the abbot promised me the scaffolding would be gone before the wedding. Do you realize, in less than a week I’ll be an old married woman. Oh, hold on, Laurant.”
She heard Michelle shout to her mother that she’d be right down, and then she spoke into the phone again. “Mother’s becoming a nervous wreck with the preparations.”
“I should let you go.”
“You sound tired.”
“I am,” she admitted.
Laurant’s mind was racing even as she talked to Michelle. Agent Wesson was using the abbot’s cabin as his command center, and no one was supposed to know that he and his men were in Holy Oaks.
“Where exactly is the picnic? At the abbot’s cabin?”
“No,” Michelle answered. “He has some relatives or friends staying there. It’s across the lake. Just follow the traffic.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“I won’t be here, remember? I’m going to Des Moines to pick up my new brace, so I’ll see you at the picnic.”
“Who’s driving you?”
“Dad,” she answered. “If this one doesn’t fit, he’s going to raise holy hell. Because of their screwups, I have less than a week to learn how to walk without a limp.”
“If anyone can do it, you can. Want me to do anything for you while you’re away?”
Michelle laughed. “Yes. Go get some color in your cheeks.”
CHAPTER 20
Laurant heard Nick coming down the stairs, and when she finished saying good-bye to Michelle and hung up the phone, she saw him leaning against the door frame watching her. His hair was tousled on his forehead, and she was once again struck by how sexy he was. Maybe Michelle was right. Maybe she should think about putting some color back in her cheeks.
What would he be like in bed? My God, she couldn’t believe she was letting her mind conjure up such thoughts. She quickly pushed the budding fantasies aside. She wasn’t a teenager in the throes of a hormonal rebellion. She was an adult, and there wasn’t anything wrong with being celibate until the right man came along, was there? Nick didn’t fit her requirements. No, he wasn’t the right man.
“Sorry I was on the phone so long.”
“That’s okay. Joe says you’ve got a bunch of messages stored on your machine. Go ahead and listen to them.”
Nick carried her bag upstairs while Laurant replayed the tape. There was only one disturbing message, from Margaret Stamp, the owner of the local bakery. She was calling to tell Laurant that Steve Brenner had upped his offer to buy Margaret’s store by 20 percent, and that Steve had given her a week to consider. She ended the message with a question. Did Laurant know that Steve wasn’t going to pay out any of the money to those who had sold until all the stores had signed?
A clap of thunder rumbled in the distance. Laurant slumped against the back of the chair, concentrating on the droning whir of the tape as it rewound. Her resolve had taken another beating, yet she knew she would have to summon the energy to deal with this latest crisis. Poor Margaret. Laurant knew she didn’t want to sell, but business at the bakery was poor these days, and the money Steve was offering would be enough to ensure Margaret a comfortable retirement. How could Laurant, in good conscience, talk Margaret into holding firm when there was a good chance she would lose everything?
She jumped when Nick touched her shoulder.
“Laurant, I’d like you to meet Joe Farley. He’s going to be staying with us.”
The agent came forward to shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Laurant’s mind switched gears. The fight to save the town square would have to be put on the back burner for now.
“Please call me Laurant.”
“Sure,” he replied. “And you can call me Joe.”
Joe was a thickset man with a bushy mane of red hair and a round face that lit up when he smiled. One of his front teeth was slightly crooked, and that humanized him somehow. Even though he too was wearing a gun, he didn’t seem as imposing or as rigid as Mr. Wesson.
“Do you usually work with Nick?”
“I have a few times,” he answered. “I’m usually stuck in an office, so this is quite a change for me. I hope you don’t mind, but Feinberg and I have made a couple of changes in your alarm system. It isn’t fancy, but it will get the job done.”