Listen to Your Heart - Fern Michaels [56]
“No.”
“I can understand that. In a business like yours you wouldn’t want to cook after working all day. We’ll hire a cook and housekeeper.” He was getting married. He’d just asked the woman sitting on the floor to marry him. Was he of sound mind? Maybe this would be a good time to tell her about getting mugged and his concussion. And, if he was getting married, he needed to tell her about his past and his future. “While our dinner is warming up, I’d like to talk to you, Josie. There are some things you need to know about me. I’d like to get it all out in the open right now. If you want to change your mind, I’ll understand. Let’s have some wine and sit out on that little porch where your office is.”
Josie felt a lump form in her throat. He sounded almost ominous. A chill raced up and down her spine. She reached for a bottle of wine and two glasses on the counter. Confessions were not for the weak of heart. He was right, though: Now was the time to get it all out in the open. She’d let him go first.
It was a beautiful evening, warm and fragrant. Overhead, stars winked and glistened as Josie walked along. It felt wonderful. She wished she could cross her fingers, but she was holding the wine bottle, and the two glasses were in her other hand.
Paul talked steadily as he uncorked the wine. He poured generously. Josie listened, her heart hammering in her chest. She heard his pain, felt it right along with him. At one point, she reached out for his hand and squeezed it. He squeezed back. She let her head drift to his shoulder. When his hand reached up to touch her hair, she felt like crying.
“That’s pretty much it in a nutshell. I was wondering if you would like to go to Lafayette with me on Saturday. I’m prepared to bring my niece and the boy back if they want to come. I thought they could stay at my house until I decide how to handle it with my mother.”
“I’d love to go with you if you’re sure I won’t be in the way. Where does your mother live?”
“In the French Quarter. She lives there with her sisters. She was managing the cornmeal plant, but we’re selling it. I’m hoping this is all going to work out right. If it doesn’t, I don’t know what I’ll do. That’s why I came to you the first time. I wanted to plan a Mother’s Day party for my mother. I was hoping against hope that we would be able to find Nancy in time for the party. In a way it’s a trade-off. At least I think that’s the way my mother is going to look at it. I’ve done this every year for years, hoping it would work out. It never did until now.”
“What . . . what’s your mother’s name, Paul?”
“Marie. Why?”
“I’ve been working with her. She, too, wanted to plan a party for her sisters.” She told him about her visit to the French Quarter and the walled-in garden and about the sisters coming to work for a few hours in the test kitchens. “She doesn’t view it the way you do, Paul. She loves you very much. She’s afraid to make advances to you for fear of rejection. She said you only call when you can fit her into your busy schedule. No woman—I don’t care who she is—likes to be fitted in to someone’s busy schedule. You need to sit down and tell her how you feel. She’ll tell you how she feels, and then you will meet somewhere in the middle. If we’re going to get married and have children, I want them to know their grandmother. I don’t want to dance around my husband and make lame excuses. She’s your mother, and you’ll never have another. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about. You aren’t one of those macho guys who can’t admit you’re wrong, or is too big to let your mother know how you hurt, are you?”
“No, I’m not one of those. How’d you get so smart?”
“I had a great mother. My dad was okay, too. If you let me, I can help.”
“That’s for tomorrow. Tonight is for us.”
“I have news for you: It’s tomorrow already. My watch says it’s ten minutes of one. I’m kind of sleepy.”
“Want to go to sleep?”
“Just like that, go to sleep?