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BRENNANLOOKEDAThis piquant sauce and grimaced. Clarice’s Bistro had superb cuisine, but tonight nothing sat right on his stomach. Probably thanks to the fish he’d had for lunch.
Or the fact all of New Orleans had seen him kiss the crazy accountant wearing ridiculous tennis shoes.
And, Christ, it had been soul-stirring.
He shoved the still-steaming dish aside and contemplated the man who’d raised him. Malcolm was extraordinarily cheerful tonight, as was Ellen, who also seemed pleased with the tree-lighting festivities. After sending Mary Paige home in a private car, Malcolm had insisted on a celebratory dinner at his favorite uptown restaurant. Clarice’s had occupied an unassuming wooden house on Prytania Street for the past forty years, and Malcolm had dined there at least twice a month since it had opened.
“I’d say tonight was a resounding success,” his grandfather crowed, sipping a dry pinot and spearing another chargrilled oyster from the plate in the center of the table.
“Absolutely. And the mistletoe kiss was the icing. Nothing better than the public falling in love with a couple. It gets people engaged. The heir to the Henry throne and his charming country mouse haslove storywritten all over it,” Ellen said, nodding like a good dog. Izzy waited in the car with Gator so Brennan assumed Ellen took the weenie dog’s place. Though, he supposed it wasn’t fair to his cousin to compare her to a canine. At the moment, Brennan wished she’d show some resolve, some sense, some damned fortitude against the assumption he and Mary Paige should act like a couple.
“I’m not pretending to be in love.” Brennan folded his napkin and set it beside his plate.
“I would never ask you to fabricate something as important as love,” Malcolm said.
“It’s not that I don’t like Mary Paige—she’s a nice girl—but I draw a hard line at creating a false relationship.”
“You don’t have to kiss her again, just be considerate,” Ellen said. “Pretend she’s Great-Aunt Vergie.”
“When last I saw Great-Aunt Vergie, she didn’t have a tooth in her head and hit me with her walker.”
“Well, don’t do anything to make her hit you. Merely summon the charm from your arsenal,” his grandfather said.
Ellen nodded again. “Yeah, just allow some speculation. The promise of romance builds interest and goodwill for our name. It builds—”
“Customers.” Brennan didn’t like the way his older cousin manipulated him with the promise of a healthier bottom line. Because even he wasn’t so hardened that he’d fake affection for Mary Paige to manipulate the public into buying more sweaters. “So, Grandfather, you think I should dupe the public? What of your newfound integrity?”
His grandfather stared at him hard for a moment before shaking his head. “I’d consider that an insult from anyone other than you.”
Brennan held his grandfather’s gaze, refusing to flinch under the stare of the man who had taught him to guard his emotions.Never let ’em see you sweat…or drink cheap whiskey.
“I don’t give a fig about what develops, or doesn’t, between you and Miss Gentry. I do give a fig about you being courteous. You’re a Henry. It’s expected,” Malcolm said, focusing his attention on his filet.
Ellen took a sip of her drink. “I still think allowing folks to think it’s a romance is brilliant. What’s the harm?”
Brennan didn’t answer. If Ellen couldn’t figure out the harm, he could see good reason her marriage hadn’t lasted more than a few years. Dishonesty bred harm. Lots of harm. Even he knew that.
“I won’t deny the idea of Brennan settling with a nice girl appeals to me,” his grandfather said, regarding him again with intensity. It was as if his grandfather was testing him, which pissed him off.
“As I recall, you considered Creighton a nice girl from a good family with a U.S. senator in her back pocket. You introduced us and gave me use of your lodge in Park City, remember?” If his relatives were going to mess around in his personal life, Brennan thought it only fair they be reminded of their earlier interference. “So now, what? She’s not pure enough for the Henry family? She has to go around buying bums coffee to make the grade?”
He didn’t know why he felt so defensive. Not so long ago he would have agreed with Ellen’s plan. And he’d certainly been of the opinion that Creighton wasn’t well-suited to him. Could it be that one simple kiss had not been quite so simple? That little kiss had made him feel something more complicated than lust…something scarier than the company books dipping into the red.
Malcolm sighed. “As with much in my life, I regret encouraging that particular relationship. Creighton knows only one life, and she eats, breathes, and sucks it down. She’s not a bad girl, no, but she’s not a good one for you, either. She wouldn’t inspire you to want to be a better man.”
His grandfather’s judgment was harsh but laced with truth. Creighton looked good on the arm, and she had excellent social standing right down to the crumbling mansion on St. Charles, Creole bloodlines, and a sizable bank account. Still, their relationship had always been based on convenience rather than affection.
“Even so, Creighton deserves some consideration. We’ve been dating off and on for the past year. Not fair to splash a fake relationship all over the city for the express purpose to make this ridiculous campaign a success,” said Brennan, knowing his words were hollow. He’d tried to break it off with Creighton several times and, had he wanted to pursue another woman, he would have had no qualms about doing so. “Besides, this campaign will succeed because you offer rewards for being decent to one’s fellow man. People will be looking over their shoulders to see if they might get something for dropping a nickel in the Salvation Army’s kettle.”
“True,” his grandfather said, stroking his gray goatee. “But if it results in someone being relieved of a burden, or five cents richer, because of what we’re doing, then I can live with that. Generosity doesn’t come cheaply.”
Brennan lifted his coffee cup and waved a hand when Ernesto brought the dessert menu. This day had been long and exhausting, and the trip down memory lane triggered by Mary Paige’s questions still echoed in his soul. He kept remembering his mother smiling at him, his father tossing him into the air, and Brielle playing silly games involving cracks and breaking their mother’s back—all fuzzy warm memories that left him a little lonelier than before.
Just ghosts knocking about inside his head.
“Strange. You never seemed serious about Creighton. More annoyed than anything.” Ellen took the dessert menu and pointed to the Creole bread pudding she got every time she came to Clarice’s. “And that kiss tonight looked friendly enough.”
“I kissed Mary Paige because everyone chanted ‘kiss her’ and that was the only reason.”
