“I’ve stepped over a line with you, haven’t I?” His voice was barely a whisper. “I’ll be very honest with you since you are being so open with me. I have wanted to date you for a long time, but I cannot stand the thought of making you uncomfortable around me.
If that is what I’ve done, then I am truly sorry. You don’t have to worry about me misconstruing your kindness or friendship from here on out. And I sincerely hope that we can continue to work together like we always have.”
It can’t possibly be him. He looks like he is going to cry, Claire thought to herself as she listened to Mike’s heartfelt apology. “I’m sorry to have been so blunt, Mike, but I was afraid that if I was not completely candid, it might cause tension that neither of us needs right now.”
“No, don’t apologize, Claire. I appreciate your candor, and I will give you my word that this will not affect our working relationship.” He finished with an uneasy smile.
“Thank you for being so understanding,” Claire offered as Mike left her office.
Claire glanced toward Tristan’s office where Tristan sat with her eyebrows raised in question. From Tristan’s vantage point, she could see the expressions on Mike’s face, and she wondered what they could have been discussing to elicit such a response. Claire gave her a reassuring smile before getting back to work on the morning reports.
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When Claire’s hungry stomach had just begun to complain, her phone rang, and she could see on the ID that it was Tristan. She glanced over as she picked it up. “Get your purse and start heading for the door. I could eat the ass out of a bear right now,” Claire said as she stared at the grinning brunette on the line.
“Yuck, no kissing after lunch then. I’m gonna have a hard time finding a place that serves bear ass, so be thinking of some alternatives.”
The alternative was a small restaurant that boasted home cooking. Claire ate like a bear; her appetite had returned with a vengeance. She had not been able to eat breakfast because her nerves were wreaking havoc on her stomach preceding the conversation with Mike. “Oh, Tris, this is so good,” she purred between bites.
“Obviously,” Tristan kidded. She was about to open her mouth to speak when a familiar voice addressed her.
Claire looked over Tristan’s shoulder to see a woman standing just behind her. Claire knew instantly that this was Tristan’s mother. Her long, dark hair had streaks of gray, but otherwise, they were the same height and build. Mallory Delacroix was a beautiful woman, and it was obvious where Tristan got her looks from.
“Aren’t you going to speak to your own mother?” the woman asked, staring into Claire’s eyes. There was no mistaking the disapproval Claire saw there. Mallory glanced down at Tristan, who sat speechless, her neck covered in red splotches.
“Hello, Mother,” Tristan responded, without turning to look.
“Since you have forgotten the good manners I taught you, I’ll invite myself to join you.” She pulled a chair out and sat down, looking her daughter in the face. “I haven’t seen or heard from you in a while. You can’t pick up the phone and make a call?”
“The phone lines work both ways. If you wanted to talk to me, you could have called.” Tristan’s voice was cold as she stared back at her mother. Her body language spoke volumes. She held her fork so tightly that her fingers turned white. Muscles in her jaw twitched as Mallory spoke.
Ignoring her daughter’s remark, Mallory turned her attention to Claire, who sat transfixed by the exchange. Mallory continued to speak to her daughter as her eyes bore into Claire. “You must have 79
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found something to keep you occupied.” She put great emphasis on the word something.
“Is there a reason you interrupted a pleasant lunch, or do you have something to say to me?” Tristan snapped, making Claire jump at the hostility in her voice.
Mallory slowly turned her head back to Tristan. “Normally, when mothers and daughters see one another in public, they do speak, Tristan.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
Tristan leveled her eyes on her mother’s. “That’s assuming they have a normal relationship, Mother.”
“You’re a fine one to speak about what is normal, little girl.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I am no longer a little girl, and I will not allow you to sit here and insult me and Claire. Get up from this table and leave, or I will, and stick you with the check,”
Tristan hissed.
Mallory stood and looked down at them for a moment. “So, it’s Claire, is it?” She turned and walked away without another word.
Tristan set down her fork and immediately lit up a cigarette.
Claire thought it wise to allow her to speak first, when she was ready. Claire thought she had seen Tristan angry before, but she was wrong. Tristan went off for nearly five minutes straight and was shaking from head to toe when she finished. Still, Claire felt flattered because the main reason Tristan was so angry was because of the way Mallory referred to her.
Claire tried to stifle the chuckle that rose within her, resulting in a snort. Tristan looked at her as though she had lost her mind.
“What are you laughing at?”
Claire broke into fits of laughter. “Did you see the look on her face when you said you were gonna stick her with the check?”
Claire continued to laugh until Tristan finally chuckled with her.
On the ride back to the office, Tristan was lost in thought.
Uncomfortable with the silence, Claire tried to get Tristan’s mind off the encounter with her mother. “So, where are you taking me to dinner Saturday night?”
Tristan smiled. “It’s a surprise. I hope you’ll enjoy the cuisine; it’s simple but pretty good. I know the cook personally.”
80
Robin Alexander
CHAPTER SIX
Claire’s eyes grew wide as she and Tristan pulled off the highway onto a small gravel road leading into the woods. Soon, a clearing came into view, revealing a well-manicured yard surrounding a large Acadian-style house that backed up to a lake encircled by cypress trees. Spanish moss swung lazily in the breeze, making the place look like a picture from the Old South.
Claire’s heart skipped with joy when Tristan divulged that she was cooking dinner. She was excited at the prospect of seeing Tristan’s place. She’d always believed that you could tell a lot about a person by how they lived. A person’s home contained all sorts of tidbits of information just waiting to be observed.
“I feel like I’m being taken to Batman’s cave,” Claire said as Tristan pulled the car to a stop.
“Yeah, well, there is no butler waiting to serve us,” Tristan answered playfully as she climbed out of the car.
“Let’s get all this stuff unloaded, and I will give you a tour of the outside before we lose daylight and the weather hits,” Tristan said as she gathered up the groceries. Both women unloaded the car quickly, managing to get everything in one trip. Tristan opened the back door to the house and set everything just inside. She turned to Claire, who was tiptoeing, trying to get a peek over her shoulder.
“You can see the inside in a minute. I want you to see all my handiwork first. We’re going to have to do this quickly, though.
With this wind picking up, the rain will be on us before we know it.” Tristan looked out at the western sky, seeing the storm clouds moving in.
She led Claire down a cobblestone path leading from the back door to a wooden deck. Trellises that were completely covered in confederate jasmine bordered two sides of the deck. The deck 81
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itself overlooked the back yard and the lake on one side and butted up to the house on the other. Just to the right was a small herb garden, and beyond that was a well-maintained vegetable garden.