Love Will Keep Us Together Page 3

  From the stove, Brie looked over her shoulder at her sisters. “I love that game.”

  “You love everything these days.”

  Brie’s face glowed with inner joy and contentment. “I guess I do.”

  Raven gave a rare smile. Her hair had grown faster than any of theirs and already fell past her shoulders. Months ago it was short and spiky. “I’m glad, sweetie.”

  “I know. Your sourpuss comments are a sham.”

  “Sometimes.” She sipped the deep-red merlot and continued to address Brie at the stove where she was cooking. “So, what’s going on with the man in there supervising the little monsters?”

  “Dante’s probably playing with them.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I do.” Brie turned from the marinara she was stirring and came to sit at the table with Mari and Raven. “Things between us are wonderful. His lease is up next month, and he’s moving in with me.”

  “Wow, that’s news.” Raven’s brows knitted. “And a little soon.”

  Mari grinned. “I think it’s great. You’re not around to see them together. That relationship was meant to be.”

  “Are you sure you’re not rushing things, sis?” Now Raven’s voice held concern.

  “We might be. But we don’t care. If I had my way, I’d...”

  He appeared at the doorway. “You’d what, love?”

  Brie’s light complexion blushed to the roots of her blond hair. “Nothing.”

  His gait was easy as he walked over to the refrigerator. He asked over his shoulder, “Who’s Lilliana’s friend, Mari?”

  “The daughter of one of my professors. They met at the after-school program at Georgetown and have become fast friends.”

  Raven’s brows rose. “I didn’t know about that relationship. Are you sure it’s a good idea to become involved with a prof’s family? How did that happen?”

  “They’ve been clamoring for a sleepover for six months. It’s hard to explain to an almost seven-year-old the...decorum for those kinds of relationships. Dr. Dubois tried to squelch it from his end, too. We finally gave in.”

  Brie bit her lip.

  “What?” from Raven.

  “You should see Dr. Dubois.” She giggled. “His looks would make even you swoon, Raven.”

  Dante turned from the fridge where he’d gotten a beer. “You wound me, Gabriella.”

  “Aw.” She got up and went to him, looped her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear. He burst out laughing.

  “Uncle Dante,” his niece shouted to him from the other room. “Come back in. It’s your turn.”

  “Duty calls.”

  When Dante left, Raven turned to Mari. “So he’s gorgeous?”

  “He is. But our relationship is purely professional.”

  “As it should be.” Raven ran her hand along the rim of her glass, making it sing. “Not that I want you to do anything with him, Mar, but it’s been five years since Arturo died. I worry that you haven’t dated at all.”

  “I’m a bit sick of it myself.” She held up her left hand.

  Raven’s jaw dropped. “Oh, my God, you took off your wedding band.”

  “I did. I thought I’d begin the new year that way. I’ll never forget Arturo, and I still get sad sometimes, but not nearly as much.”

  Her sister squeezed her arm. “That’s good to hear. Just remember what I said about the professor.”

  “I will. I know better than that.”

  Gales of laughter erupted from the living room again. Amidst it, Mari’s phone rang. She checked the ID. “It’s Yvette’s father. Hello.”

  “Hi, there. I have a bit of time before my presentation tonight. I called to see how Yvette’s doing.”

  “She’s doing great.”

  “Thank you again for having her.”

  “She’s a delight. No thanks necessary. Would you like to talk to her?”

  “Yes. But first, how are you?”

  “Great. My two sisters are here and some other kids. They’re having a ball. Hold on, I’ll get your daughter.”

  Mari got up and went to the doorway. “Yvette, it’s your father. You can go into one of the bedrooms and take the call.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Moretti.”

  She showed the girl the spare room, and when she came back to the table, Raven and Brie were in deep conversation. “What are you talking about?”

  “You and Dr. Dubois.”

  “Okay, ladies, now, we’re going to change the subject away from me. Raven, tell us about the art show.” Her sister’s work would be the main attraction at the opening of a modern art wing at a prestigious gallery.

  Her face was no longer animated. “There have been some changes in the time frame. Apparently, the matching flooring to the rest of the gallery, which is a special kind of marble, is on back order. You’d think they’d go with something different since the new wing is such a radical change from the collection, but that was a nonstarter.”

  “When will the show be?”

  “End of May.”

  “That’s not too long a delay.”

  “No, I know. I’m just excited for it to come.”

  “So are we. Being the debut artist at the Parker Gallery is a big deal.” Mari squeezed her hand. “My sister the star!”

  “Said the two princesses.”

  “Who’s a princess?” Yvette Dubois stood in the kitchen, Mari’s phone in her hand.

  Raven asked, “She doesn’t know?”

  “No one at school does. Or did. Until now.”

  * * *

  Jordan drove directly from the airport to pick up Yvette. He was anxious to see his daughter, although the trip had gone well. He gave two separate presentations at Harvard Law, and did a book signing on Saturday, which was mobbed. It did his ego good.

  Mariella Moretti lived in a nice, middle-class area of D.C. Even here with smaller, less showy houses, real estate was exorbitant, and she probably couldn’t afford more. Jordan was sincerely grateful for his background and financial wealth, which allowed him to live in Georgetown. As he pulled into her driveway, snow had fallen in light flakes, landing on the driveway and grass and making the setting picturesque. He got out and hurried to the front door.

  Yvette opened it with Lilliana behind. “Papa. I missed you.”

  Bending down, he hugged his daughter tight. She felt solid and real. “I missed you, too, ma petite chérie.”

  From behind her, Mrs. Moretti said, “Welcome back. Come on in.”

  He walked inside and was surprised. Her place was homey, but he noted the expensive white oak furniture, high-quality flooring and exquisite paintings decorating the living room. “Thanks. We’ll get out of your way, now.”

  “I was wondering if you could stay a bit. I want to discuss something with you.”

  His pulse sped up. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, no, not at all.” She stepped closer. He caught the scent of her—something fresh and flowery. She wore a pretty pink sweater and wool pants to match. “Let me take your coat.”

  Shrugging from his outerwear, he handed it to her. She said, “I made coffee.”

  “Great.”

  “Can I show Papa Lilly’s room?” Yvette asked. “She has the coolest—”

  “After I talk to your father, honey. But you two could go upstairs and play one last time before you have to leave.”

  Yvette mumbled, “Adult talk time.”

  Lilliana rolled her eyes. “Mama does that, too.”

  Holding hands, the girls headed to the steps. Mrs. Moretti served him coffee and anise toast and they took seats at the table. He raised his brows when he sipped. “I thought you were exaggerating the coffee flavor, but it’s absolutely amazing.” He set down his cup. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?” He thought maybe school.

  “We spent Friday night with two of my sisters and some kids her copain brought over.” Copain was French for boyfriend. The American term was silly for a comp
anion of adult age.

  “That sounds like fun.”

  Her eyes lit. “Yes, it was. We always have fun with my family. In any case, I was in the kitchen talking to my sisters when Yvette got off the phone call she had with you. When she came out, she overheard something I asked Lilliana not to share with anyone. But I would never ask your daughter to keep something from you.”

  “We also have private things she’s not allowed to share.”

  “It’s not bad.” She drew in a breath but there was an impish smile on her face now. “My father is the king of a sovereign state. The island of Casarina off the coast of Italy.”

  Surprised, he sat back a bit. “That makes you a princess and Lilly a lady.”

  “Yes. I choose to keep my background private, but it’s not a big deal if choice others know.”

  “Royalty is always a big deal, Princepessa.”

  She chuckled. “Merci bien, monsieur.”

  “May I ask why you’re in the United States? And apparently two more princesses live here.”

  “Actually, all seven of us are here.”

  “Seven sisters? Mon Dieu. How...daunting.”

  “My family is a bit overwhelming. Two of us are returning to Casarina to live. Well, Evangelina is there now. It’s a long story why.”

  “Yes, you told me Friday you planned to work with your father.” A brow arched. “You left off the part that he was the king of your country.”

  “I didn’t mean to mislead you.” She cocked her head. “Were you born in France?”

  “Yes. Truthfully, the Dubois family has some royalty way back.”

  “How nice for you.”

  “My parents passed five years ago, and I have no siblings.”

  “And you lost your beloved grand-mère last summer.”

  “How would you...ah, Yvette told Lilliana.”

  “She let it slip.”

  “That’s fine. I’m not hiding that.” He had other secrets, though, that could ruin him.

  They heard, “Papa, come up!”

  He stood.

  “Before you go, I let Lilliana pick out her furniture from catalogs before we moved here. Her décor is a bit unusual.”

  “I can’t wait.” He went to the steps, then turned to her. “Thank you for sharing your background with me. I won’t let that slip, I promise.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Dubois.”

  “You’re welcome, Mrs. Moretti.” Using their formal titles seemed crazy at this stage in their relationship, but it was a way to keep his distance from this very interesting woman.

  Chapter 3

  “I wanna go sledding today!” Already, Yvette’s voice had turned whiny and it was only ten in the morning.

  “Non, ma petite chérie, I cannot take you.”

  She added a scowl to the strident tone. “Stepping Stones is closed because you don’t have any classes today.” In honor of Martin Luther King’s birthday.

  “I’m afraid I have to work on my book at home.”

  She gasped loudly. “You’re writing another book. Why?”

  He couldn’t tell her the real reason. She wouldn’t understand. But maybe he had another excuse. “In order to teach in America and in the universities back home, I have to write books, too.”

  “What am I going to do?”

  “Mrs. Jenkins is coming over to supervise you.” He had to close himself off to write.

  “Can she take me?”

  He couldn’t see the portly older woman, the sitter Yvette loved, on the snowy hills. “No.”

  “Then I don’t want her here. I want you.” Really whiny now.

  Torn, Jordan cursed Elise again. If they were a normal couple, he’d have help. Single parenting was hard.

  His phone buzzed. An excuse to get out of this discussion. And a bad-father move. Still he answered. “Bonjour.”

  “Bonjour, Dr. Dubois.”

  The lilt of the female voice on the other end made his heart lighter. “Mrs. Moretti. What can I do for you?” There was a smile on his face now.

  “I seem to have a mutiny on my hands. Lilliana wants to see Yvette. I’ve got things to do around the house, and some school work, but if they’re together, they won’t keep me from doing them. As it is, my lovely child is pouting.”

  “Ah, well, a kindred spirit of hers is standing in front of me. Pouting, too. Something about sledding.”

  “There’s a lot of yard here. I take breaks, and I can go outside and make forts, or snow women. So, would she be able to come over?”

  “I wouldn’t dare say no to this little dictator.”

  “I can pick her up.”

  “No, I’ll bring her to you. It’s the least I can do. When you’d like her to come home, call me and I’ll be back over.”

  “All right. See you soon, I hope.”

  “We’ll leave right now.” When he disconnected, he noticed the satisfied expression on his daughter’s face. He said, “So, did you talk to Lilliana today?”

  “No, Papa.”

  “Yesterday, did you hatch a plan to get together today?”

  “I don’t understand this hatch a plan.”

  The hell she didn’t.

  “Well, it worked. Get your stuff. I’m driving you to the Moretti house.”

  Yvette raced across the room and hugged him around the waist. Her tone, her exuberance, replaced the sulk. “Je t’aime, Papa.”

  “Je t’aime, ma petite diablesse.”

  They made a quick stop, then sang songs on the drive over, the windshield wipers keeping their own rhythm with the falling flakes. When he reached the Moretti house, the snow on their lawn was heavy. They’d have fun in it today. A longing shot through him: to stay with them, to have hot chocolate and beignets, then go out and play in the snow that they rarely saw in Paris.

  However, it wasn’t only because he had work to do that he wouldn’t invite himself. He and Mrs. Moretti needed to handle their children’s closeness with circumspection. He couldn’t fall into anything but a casual-acquaintance relationship with her.After he and Yvette exited the car and crossed into the open garage, Lilliana burst into it and embraced her friend. “You could come!”

  “Yep.”

  “They’re hugging like they haven’t seen each other in months.” Mariella stood on the step, dressed in a simple red sweat suit and sneakers. Her hair was pulled off her face in a ponytail.

  “You look like a teenager,” he said, walking closer.

  She gave him a haughty expression befitting a princess. “I turn twenty-four soon.”

  Twenty-four? She was only twenty-four? Hell, he’d guessed by her confidence and poise she was in her late twenties. “Well, then you are a kid.”

  She rolled her eyes as their children scooted into the house. They came back out as fast. “We forgot the chocolat chaud et beignets, Papa.”

  “Can you two handle getting it all from the car?”

  “Oui.” Her back already to him, with Lilliana at her side, Yvette hurried to the vehicle.

  “You brought hot cocoa and beignets? Real beignets?”

  “There’s this French bakery within walking distance of our home. And yes, they’re real beignets.” He winked at her. “And lighter than the Italian fried dough.”

  “Would like to come in and have some with us?”

  More than you can imagine. “No, I don’t think that would be a good idea, Mrs. Moretti.”

  “You can call me Mariella if you like.”

  “No, that wouldn’t be a good idea either.”

  Folding her arms over her chest, she didn’t ask why. In fact, her response was, “I understand.”

  “Kiss Yvette goodbye for me. And thank you again for having her over.”

  She nodded.

  He forced himself to walk to the car. Little wet snowflakes fell on his head and face until he got inside. His resolve wavered when he saw she was still standing there in the garage. He didn’t know where he got the strength to start the car and back out.

&
nbsp; “Jésus, Marie, Joseph, donnez-moi la patience!” He didn’t want to screw up their professional relationship or their kids’ friendship. And finding out she was only twenty-four to his thirty-eight. Merde de merde! A lifetime existed between them.

  * * *

  A melancholy came over Mariella as she watched Dr. Dubois pull away. And that feeling was untenable. She knew the stakes here, and she wouldn’t succumb.

  In the kitchen, she saw a cup of hot chocolate and the bag of beignets on the table, left for her by the kids. She heated up the drink, then sat with the beignet in front of her. The cocoa was rich and creamy and sweet. She bet the bakery made it with her favorite, Godiva. She slid out a beignet and peeked into the bag. These were uneven ones, some long and odd-shaped, some short and puffy. She tore off a piece of the fluffy dough covered with powdered sugar and tasted the first heavenly bite.

  Mmm. A hint of yeast was in the thick batter made of eggs and milk and flour. Crispy from being deep-fried, the dough melted on her tongue. And he was right—the treat was lighter than Italian fried dough. The French had claimed the beignet, but the Italians probably had it first.

  Rising, she washed her hands and crossed to the desk to work on her independent project. She opened the file which contained the sketchy syllabus they’d worked on together. Dr. Dubois promised to research articles or even texts they might use for her independent study. Meanwhile, he sent her to three websites to check out. They were meaty with information, he said, and she should take notes on them.

  Calling up the first on French law, she read the introduction and started with the legal points about marriage. She chose to begin here because of Papá’s dictum that he’d choose all seven girls’ mates. She was enthralled in the work when the girls came down the stairs. “Can we go play outside?”

  “Outside?” She glanced at her watch. “My goodness, two hours have passed. Yes.”

  “You have to come too, Mama.”

  “Of course. I need a break.” She slid back the chair, stood and stretched. “Yvette, did I see you drop off a bag in the garage?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Moretti. I brought outside clothes.”

  “Then get changed.”