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He’d looked beyond his needs and his desires and reached out to protect what was important to me. A few guys in my long ago past had said they loved me. What they meant was they wanted me to forsake all others for them. Simon wanted that too, of course, but he also wanted to look after me and those I loved. What could be more meaningful than that?
We rode the last few blocks with me wrapped in his arms, neither of us saying a word. There were still some major hurdles to clear in our immediate future but for now, for the last minutes of our time together in Montreal, there was only this. His strong arms holding me tight, his forehead leaning into me, the tickle of his long hair on the side of my face and his warm breath mingling with mine.
We disentangled at the office tower where he had two more meetings that afternoon. He leaped out of the car and without a backwards glance, strode through its glass and steel doors, his gorgeous suit moving around him like an elegant second skin.
On the way back to Broxton to see Mom, I phoned Ronnie.
“I’m at your mom’s place right now,” Ronnie said. Mom was saying something in the background that I couldn’t quite make out. “We’re going through your childhood photo albums.”
“That sounds lovely. I hope Mom isn’t too tired.”
“She is weary, but she wants to go out for pizza tonight. Want to join us?”
I’d rather stick sharp pointy things in my eyes. “Sure, that sounds great.”
“Your dad was a good-looking guy, wasn’t he? I mean for a guy back in the nineteen-eighties that is.”
I remembered the image of Jacques Sauveterre, with his long hair and mustache. He wasn’t really my father but right until I was twelve years old, I believed he was. Obviously, Mom was keeping the lie alive. “Yeah, he was.”
Ronnie’s phone buzzed and she paused for a second. “Hey! I better go. I’ve got another call coming in—from Aasif Brockhurst. I can’t wait to hear what this is about.”
Aasif Brockhurst was Simon’s brother-in-law and the lawyer who handled all Simon’s personal business. Grateful to Simon for having an instant attorney at his disposal, I wondered how soon Ronnie would be bound by the confidentiality agreement that Brock would have for her. I phoned his office and left a message asking him to call me as soon as he had spoken to her.
Brock called back just as Wayne turned onto Mom’s street. I dropped the privacy screen and asked Wayne to find a short detour.
“Hi Sadie. How’re your Mom and Grandpa?”
“They’re good, partly because the Jacobson Foundation has rolled through here like a summer storm, showering money like rain.”
“Simon did mention something about that.”
“Have you spoken to Ronnie?”
“I have, and she’s taking the contract. I’m sending it to her lawyer because I told her I don’t want her to sign it until she has taken independent legal advice on it. She says she’ll do that immediately.”
“Wow. She’s keen. Must be a good deal.”
“It is. Simon may be overbearing and willful at times, but he’s not cheap. He made an attractive offer.”
“How soon will the confidentiality agreement kick in?”
“As soon as it’s signed.”
“So, if we go out for a girls’ night tonight and secrets are revealed, she can’t use that on her blog?”
“No, she can’t use it on her blog, but I hope you haven’t got anything really salacious that makes her want to challenge that clause.” He ended the sentence on a higher note, as if asking a question. When I didn’t reply, he pushed the point further. “What I’m saying is, the confidentiality clause is back up. It’s better if she just doesn’t find out things that really should remain secret. Prevention is always better than remedy.”
“Thanks, but I’m trying for damage control. Ronnie’s gotten really close to my mom in the past two days. I don’t know what things Mom might have said.”
“Anything before the contract is signed is not protected.”
“Jeez.” I said.
“Is there something Simon needs to know about you?”
“Nothing major but every family has its little secrets.” I bit my lip.
“I don’t want to know. You and Simon can work that out, hopefully without involving me.”
