At Last Page 3

  “Felix will have to go through me first and Ms. Ager doesn’t work here anymore. Charles Spencer, I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Genevieve Desrosiers, will you help me please?” She held out her hand.

  There was a fraction of seconds before Charles vigorously shook it.

  “I surely will, Ms. Desrosiers. What do you need?”

  Chapter Three

  Music seeped from every wall in Ray’s bar at a pleasant level, allowing customers to talk and be heard. Tuesday evening was definitely the 60s as “Good Vibrations” was replaced by “Wild Thing” and reverberated around the room.

  Alice Lawrence rolled her eyes as she watched Max talk to just about everyone inside the building while she herself headed for the bar to order two pilsners. Leaning against the bar Alice looked around the bar area. Now just who was this new person in town that Max liked? Grady wasn’t a place anyone stayed for more than an evening unless you lived here or were on the way to the nearest airport in Lasater. Occasionally the odd trucker stopped but only when the weather closed in and the roads were bad.

  “Hey, Alice, all alone? Surely not.”

  “Nope. Max, as always, takes at least ten minutes to reach the bar. How are the kids?” Alice grinned as Ray Talbot, the owner of the bar, placed her drinks before her.

  “Great. Sam is a year away from graduating in Horticulture. Proud of that boy.”

  “You are proud of them all, silly man. Is Patty doing better?” Alice picked up her schooner and sipped on the liquid.

  “Sure am. I’m an out and proud uncle. Patty is still in remission, which means Beth, the youngest, can at last go to college.”

  “She did a fine thing, staying to look after her mom during the chemo. It’s good to hear about Patty. If she’s up to it ask her to drop by Maxali’s around two thirty any day, quietest time, and we can catch up.”

  “Thanks, I’ll be sure to tell her. How is business? There has been a lot of activity out at the Stevens property. Heard old man Stevens had finally given in to pressure and was selling to some conglomerate who makes pesticides.” A shout at the other end of the bar had Ray flicking a hand at the customer and heading in his direction.

  Hell, how will that work with Desrosiers…talk about opposites in industry. Alice ran a finger around the rim of the glass and smiled when soft words whispered in her ear.

  Alice turned and grinned. “Love you too. Have you found your new friend?”

  “Actually no.” Max glanced frantically around and then pointed excitedly. “There she is, in the booth near the pool table.”

  Alice gazed at the woman hanging on to her glass as if someone was going to steal it from her. A looker, even from this distance. The shoulder-length honey-blonde hair shone, and she definitely wasn’t a tiny woman. She looked awkward sitting and Alice guessed she was probably over six foot when standing.

  “Come on. If she sees me she’ll think I don’t want to have anything to do with her.”

  “What makes you say that? You talk and love everyone.”

  Max smiled. “Oh, not everyone. I hate your brother.”

  “We won’t go into that. For the record does this New Yorker have a name? You never said.”

  “Oh, yes, she does.” Max picked up her drink.

  “Maxine Reed.”

  “Am I in trouble?” Max’s eyes flared.

  “No, but it would be polite if I knew what to call this new friend of yours.”

  “Oh,” Max slapped her hand against her forehead. “I’m sorry, darling, I get carried away. Quinn. Her name is Quinn.”

  “Let’s go then. As you say, we don’t want to keep her waiting.”

  †

  Charlie Spencer looked across the desk at the woman with a large pile of files in front of her. Her expression was confused. Ms. Desrosiers wasn’t what he expected in the owner of the company. Josh Gamble who owned the lumber yard had been aggressive and competitive, he didn’t know any of his employees by name unless he had to work directly with them. Not a bad thing since the man had a temper. He would never have asked someone in as lowly a position for help or even have spoken to them. This woman might be desperate, but she was the antithesis of Gamble. When Ms. Desrosiers had called him Charles his heart had fluttered. There had only been two other women who had called him by his given name—his mom and Francine. Damn I miss you Frannie. Why did life have to be so cruel?

  “You’re frowning, Charles. Have you found something wrong?”

  “No, sorry, I was thinking. How are you doing?”

  “To tell the truth, I’m terrible with paperwork. My father banned me from the office after I tried to help one summer when I was a teenager.”

  “Oh, that’s a bit harsh.”

  There was a tinkle of laughter. “I was glad he banished me to the greenhouses. He knew that I loved that side of the business even as a child.”

  “Okay, I’m game. Why, if he knew you preferred the plants, did he want you in the office?”

  “I’m not sure, except I know when I was younger that my grandmère insisted,” Ms. Desrosiers replied.

  The words at the end sounded solemn. There was something more going on with the grandmother for sure.

  “Your father’s mom or your mom’s mom? Heck that was a mouthful.” Charles laughed. He watched his boss stand and walk to the door, sure that she wanted to leave. She turned back to him.

  “My father’s. I need to go check on something in the lab. Will you work on this for me? I will be back within the hour.”

  “Yes, no problem. By the time you get back I’ll have most of the information you need.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, piece of cake when you know what to look for. I guess us oldies are still worth our salt.” Charlie laughed. Ms. Desrosiers expression looked pained, then she smiled. It was fleeting but there nonetheless.

  “Thank you, Charles.”

  “Thank you, for giving me this chance to use my skills. It makes me feel worthwhile again.” Charlie looked down at the sales order book and shook his head. It was a mess with so many orders unfulfilled. At least that’s what the information indicated. “Ms. Desrosiers.”

  She wagged a finger at him. “Call me Genevieve or Gene, whichever you prefer. Ms. Desrosiers is such a mouthful.”

  There it was again, that light laughter. “As much as Genevieve is a beautiful name, it’s a mouthful too. Gene it is.”

  Gene smiled.

  “Gene, your order book is in a mess, barely any of the orders in the last three months have been delivered, at least that’s what this says. Do you think that’s true?”

  Gene dropped her gaze to the stack of papers in front of her, then quietly replied, “As much as I don’t want to say this, I think it’s true. Felix only this morning indicated that the phone was ringing off the hook with customers asking about their shipments. Also, someone from Sutters—one of our oldest customers—arrived to personally collect her shipment. We don’t have it and I’m not sure if we ever will. We don’t have the necessary materials to make the batches.”

  Charlie whistled.

  “Now that’s a big problem. Do we know why there aren’t any supplies?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I suspect because we haven’t paid the bills.”

  The whistle increased in intensity.

  “Okay, right, it may be that we can’t achieve much tonight. First thing in the morning I’ll come in and see Wanda Smith…she’ll put me right. What time do you need this information again?”

  “I promised the bank by lunchtime.”

  “Then you will get it. Go home when you are done in your lab, Gene, and get some sleep. We’ll meet up again in the morning. Is that a deal?” Charlie grinned.

  “Thank you, Charles, that’s one deal I’m happy to take right now. Goodnight.” She stood and with a tentative smile left the room.

  Charlie stood and sighed. What the hell have I just got myself into? Still it’s better than cleaning offices, for now at least. Thin
gs don’t look that promising. He left the office and put back on his janitors’ suit and glanced at the clock on the wall. If I’m lucky I can get to Ray’s in time for the quiz. After I’ve finished these offices.

  †

  Dee Lawrence skillfully held the chocolate truffle dessert her dad loved and pressed the doorbell. Seconds later the door was thrown open and he grinned from ear to ear.

  “Ah, you are such a precious kid. Is that what I think it is?” Large hands took the heavy glass dish from her and a bulbous nose sniffed the aroma coming from it.

  “Well hello to you too, Dad.” Dee laughed as she stepped inside the well-lit hall. “Yes, but it’s not mine…didn’t have time.” A hangdog expression accompanied her words. She winked. “Second best…it’s one of Alice’s.”

  He cloaked his eyes for a few seconds before he nodded. He placed the dish on the sideboard and gave her a hug.

  “Glad you could make it. Your mom has made your favorite lamb roast.”

  “Ah that means mint sauce. I love mint sauce.” Rubbing her hands together she gave a mock shiver of anticipation.

  “Never understood that something as simple as mint sauce could bring such a reaction. Even as a kid you went all gooey-eyed.” He chuckled and picked up the dessert dish and walked toward the open door leading to the kitchen.

  Dee followed her father and sniffed the wonderful aromas drifting from the kitchen, then entered the room, smiling when she saw her mom at the island slicing beans.

  “Mom, the lamb smells delicious and you have used mint—” closing her eyes her nose drew in the aromas “—oregano, rosemary, and of course garlic. Wow, Mom, hope you asked dad before you added those to the roast…you know he hates stuff that isn’t traditional.” She walked over and kissed her mom’s cheek, following with a hug.

  “Now, Megan, you haven’t put those Indian things in my food, have you? You know I get indigestion with spicy food.”

  “Away with you, Felix, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” She turned to Dee. “How have you been, love?” Megan gave her a mischievous wink as they parted.

  Dee snagged a bean and began to chew it. “Good, at least I was until today. Dad told you that Desrosiers might be in trouble?”

  “Hasn’t she said anything to you?” Megan placed the beans in a glass dish with water.

  Dee looked at her mom and then turned to her dad who tried to seem disinterested behind his sport magazine, but she knew different. Desrosiers was the lifeblood of the town and Gene held the demise of the town in her hands. But God love her, Gene didn’t know that and hopefully never would—it might break her.

  “No.” There was a feigned cough from her dad. “Okay, Dad, what do you know? Isn’t that why I was invited tonight?”

  “Hey that’s a bit harsh, darling. I only said—”

  “Dee, your dad is worried not just for himself but for you too. More so you. Retirement is on the horizon for him, but you are young and love the work.”

  Dee closed her eyes and sucked in a breath. Wasn’t that what she had been thinking since things went awry today? Not just her family but everyone depended on Desrosiers in Grady, and that included pretty much everyone except the banks. Crap, crap, and crap. This is so damn unfair. Gene doesn’t deserve this, she’s worked so hard to keep things going since her dad died.

  “Darling, are you with us?”

  Her mother’s words penetrated her thoughts and she smiled. “Yes, always. I guess, Dad, we need a plan to help Desrosiers survive. I think tonight is the first meeting of the Save Desrosiers Campaign.”

  She was suddenly hugged so hard her breath became short.

  “That’s my girl. What do we do and who do we need to get on board?”

  Dee rolled her eyes.

  The microwave pinged.

  “Before you two begin campaigning it’s time for dinner.”

  “Oh yeah, that must come first, I’m starving.” Dee grinned at her mom and sat at the table opposite her dad. “Later, together we will come up with a plan to help Gene. She’s the focus.”

  Chapter Four

  “Max, you are unreal. Who puts all their eggs in one basket? I bet the woman that owns Desrosiers has a slush fund in the Cayman’s, all ready to bail when it gets tough. They all do, you know that, right?”

  “Naw, Quinn, not Princess Genevieve. Sorry, she’s the real thing, she will do anything to keep the company going. This is a glitch.”

  “Some glitch. We haven’t had product for two months. Customers are fickle. If they don’t get what they want, they find someone else…trust me there is always someone else.” Quinn grinned. “Princess Genevieve really? She definitely has a Cayman account.”

  “Oh, but she—”

  “Leave it, Maxine,” Alice quietly said.

  “Oh, Maxine is it? Now I know I’m in trouble. I need the little girl’s room, excuse me.”

  Quinn shrugged as Max left and smiled at Alice. “Sorry.”

  “Desrosiers is important to Grady, to us all. After Henderson Logging left the area five years ago, half of the male population left.”

  “Hey, that’s not a problem surely.” Quinn grinned. The stony look she received had her reaching for her beer.

  “As much as we…you, me, and Max, might prefer a woman-dominated society, men are important…for procreation at least.”

  “Good point.” Quinn lifted her drink and grinned.

  “This isn’t fun, Quinn. If Desrosiers closes, Grady is dead. Best case, we have fleeting traffic for a food and gas stop.”

  “Won’t hurt your business then.” Quinn stared at the people in the bar—there was a reasonable number of customers. Not, of course, what she expected in a NY bar but not bad. Better than her hometown on a Tuesday evening.

  “That’s harsh. You have no idea. Tell Max I will see her at home.” Alice stood and left the area before Quinn could apologize.

  What the hell happened there? Quinn frowned. Things change all the time, in life and business. What’s her deal? She drank heavily from her glass.

  “Alice gone for another round? Great girl.” Max sat down on the bench.

  “Not exactly. She left and told me to tell you that she’d see you at home.”

  “But it’s quiz night, she never leaves.” Max pursed her lips. “Did you say something to make her leave?”

  “I was just analyzing my appreciation of what was happening at Desrosiers, but it obviously didn’t sit well. Sorry.” The accusation hit a nerve; one Quinn hadn’t felt for a long time.

  “This town has been through enough. If Desrosiers fails so does Grady. Alice’s family was one of the first to settle here. It goes deeper than losing a job for her. That was like a red flag to a bull.”

  “Hey, Max, how would I know that?”

  “You wouldn’t.” Max shook her head. “I need to go. Hope you work out your problems with Desrosiers.” Max rushed toward the exit.

  Quinn watched Max leave and frowned. This town is weird, just like back home. Lambert County had its troubles but managed to survive. Why can’t this place?

  “You entering the quiz?” A gritty male voice asked.

  “I guess not, at least not unless a team needs me.” The man with a salt and pepper full beard and craggy features narrowed his eyes.

  “Charlie should be in soon, he’s always alone for the quiz, but doesn’t mind company. Take the sheets and when he gets in, I’ll send him over.”

  She took the paperwork watching as he slouched to the next table. What the hell, I have time to kill.

  †

  Desrosiers House, originally called The Manor, was built in the early 1800s, a white, two-story wood building with an imposing front porch surrounded by beautifully landscaped gardens, including roses, fruit trees, and pride of the entrance, a huge magnolia. As Gene walked up the five steps to the porch the security lights switched on and flooded the area. She walked over to the rocker, took a seat, and wrapped the quilt on the back of the chair around her.
It wasn’t cold as such, but the chill of the evening was beginning to bite.

  She scanned the garden and took in the apple tree that had always fruited since the first time she could remember taking one from the tree at five years old. Recalling her mother admonishing her that it was close to supper time, her father had arrived at that moment and winked at her and taken one himself. She had always been happy here. Even the years in France with her grand-mère had never quite removed the appeal of home—her home—Desrosiers House. This was the place she was born, where her mother had died, and where she expected to end her own life. Her head dropped and tears she hadn’t realized were forming trickled down her cheeks.

  “I can’t lose you or the company, there must be a way to save things. I’ve done right by everyone in Grady. Or have I? What did Christine do that made her leave so abruptly? Is she the reason I’m in this trouble or is it a coincidence?” Wiping the back of her hand over her face, she dropped the quilt and stood.

  Moments later she entered the house. The inner hallway wasn’t as large as you might expect from the outside. A narrow passage led to a circular central hall with the staircase off to the left and three doors filling the rest of the circumference. She slipped off her shoes and padded toward the door to her immediate right, which led to the kitchen. A note propped up on the table caught her attention, and she smiled as she read the contents.

  Dinner would be in the dog if you had one. You could call, I know you have a phone, though you probably left it at home. Ham and pickle sandwiches in the refrigerator and you need to look at your mail. Sheppy’s home tonight so I won’t be back until Monday. I’ve made a pot roast in the slow cooker, all you need to do is switch it on before you leave for work tomorrow and you will have a hot evening meal. If you need me, call. Sally xx

  Gene sighed and scrunched up the note, throwing it in the waste bin. She took out the sandwiches, placed them on the table and left the room, returning a few minutes later with a stack of mail. What does Sally want me to read? If she mentioned the mail it must be something interesting. She flicked through several advertising flyers and then she saw it. A manila envelope with a foreign stamp, though it wasn’t that foreign to her. France was after all her second home. She took it, glancing at the return address: Lefèvre and Lambert, Paris. Her hand shook. There could only be one reason, maybe two, that she would receive a communication like this. Neither would be positive. Her finger traced the top of the paper. Rip it open, or… She dropped the envelope and took up one of the sandwiches and bit into it. As with everything in her life at the moment, it gave her no comfort. She placed the half-eaten food on the plate and left the kitchen, glancing at the time from the grandmother clock in the hall—seven fifteen.