They went to the dining room and stood in the entrance as Michael scanned the tables. It was nearly noon, and the place was almost full. Perfect.
Simon spotted Pierre first. “Grandpa Legare!”
Pierre stared at them, his mouth hanging open. He sat with an attractive blonde of about forty whom Michael didn’t recognize. She seemed a little surprised at Pierre’s reaction but regained her composure and smiled at them.
Michael smiled back and waved to Pierre as a host walked up with menus. Michael took the menus from the young man and gestured toward Pierre. “I see my friend is already here.”
Michael walked to Pierre’s table with Simon trailing him. He pulled out a chair and sat. “What a pleasant surprise.” He turned to the woman. “I’m Michael Willard, and this is my grandson, Simon Willard.”
She gave a polite nod. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Susan Beaufort.”
“What are you doing here?” Pierre asked, his voice tight.
“Having lunch with you, of course. I’m a member now, so we’ll be seeing a lot of each other—or at least we will for as long as you can pay membership dues.” Michael spoke loud enough for nearby tables to overhear. “I know money has been tight since you can’t embezzle from the university anymore.”
The buzz of conversation around them subsided. Pierre turned white. “That’s a lie!”
Michael laughed. “As the kids say, I have receipts—and these are actual receipts.” He took out his phone and opened a document. “Here’s a TGU credit card statement from your time as university president. You charged the university forremodeling at your Pensacola condo.” He swiped on his phone. “And oh, look! Here’s a charge from Elegant Encounters. That’s an escort service, isn’t it?”
Pierre glared daggers at him. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Sure you would.” Michael swiped again and held up his phone. It showed a picture of Pierre with a heavily made-up young woman wearing a tight cocktail dress. “This is you and Desiree from Elegant Encounters.”
Pierre slapped the phone from Michael’s hand, and it clattered to the floor. Cracks spidered across the screen. The dining room was completely silent.
Michael leaned forward and spoke softly. “Touch me again and I’ll break your arm.”
“Get out of here!” Pierre hissed.
“Or what?” Michael leaned back and smiled. “Say you’ll make me, Pierre. Ask me to step outside.Pleaseask me to step outside.”
Pierre stood, quivering with rage. He turned to Susan. “Come on. We’re leaving.” He stormed off without waiting for her.
“See you at First Baptist on Sunday morning,” Michael called after him.
Pierre flinched, but he kept walking.
Michael chuckled at his retreating back. He turned to Susan, who still sat frozen at the table. “You’re welcome to stay, honey. I’ve got lots of Pierre stories I can tell you.”
She stared at Michael for a second, then rose and hurried after Pierre.
Michael bent and picked up his phone. He turned to Simon, who had watched the whole scene with wide eyes. “That’s your first lesson in what the Legares are really like. They may looknice, act nice, and go to nice places—but they’re not at all nice on the inside. Poke a hole in that pretty surface and you’ll see that they’re all fakes and cowards.” He patted Simon on the shoulder. “Now, let’s get you that root beer float.”
“Aunt Savannah is nice all the way through. I don’t think I want a root beer float anymore. Can we go now? People are staring at us.”
“I’m not ready yet.” Conversations restarted around them, this time in whispers. Michael savored it. He imagined similar conversations in the parking lot outside First Baptist on Sunday, around the boathouse in front of the building where Pierre had a condo in Pensacola, and every other place Pierre went. It would be magnificent.
Pierre had taught Michael this tactic thirty years ago, and his brain played back that brutal lesson.
Michael closed his file folder and went to find Marie on the front porch swing of the old house. She sat scribbling in her poetry notebook with her legs tucked under her, and he’d never seen a more beautiful sight than her auburn hair tumbling down her shoulders. And she was all his now that the big influx of cash was in his account. He could give her the house and the life she deserved.
She noticed him, and her smile squeezed his chest. “You seem happy.”
“I am. Let’s go house hunting.”
“What’s wrong with this house?”
“Everything. You deserve a mansion like the one you left for me.”
