I doubted I was in any fit state to answer him. I held the letter out to him.
Adam grabbed it and quickly read through before tossing it aside and lunging forward. I couldn’t have escaped if I’d wanted to. And I definitely didn’t want to.
“So, you’re stuck with me,” I told him, murmuring the words into his ear.
“It’s a mutual predicament, Charlotte,” he breathed.
33. Billet-doux
Adam wasn’t exactly renowned for off-the-wall ideas. In fact, I imagine the one he came up with over breakfast the next morning was his very first. It involved a trip to the offices of Décarie, Fontaine and Associates, and a meeting with Ryan at Billet-doux.
We arrived at the restaurant just after three – ten minutes late, just to be annoying. Adam pounded on the door and Ryan eventually appeared to unlock it. “Nice of you to make it,” he chided, stepping aside.
“Nice of you to fit us in,” replied Adam, still sore that he’d made us book an appointment to see him.
I loved being at Billet-doux when it was empty. It was pretty and grand and always smelled like fresh flowers. Maybe that’s why Ryan belonged there. He was pretty and grand too.
“What’s this all about?” Ryan asked, pulling out a chair at the nearest table. “I get the feeling that it’s going to be as ridiculous as always.”
We followed his lead and sat. Adam’s poker face was impressive, but something about my expression made Ryan nervous. “What did you do this time?” he asked, squinting at me with suspicion.
Adam answered for me. “She hasn’t done anything. Her visa has been approved.”
Ryan’s expression relaxed a little, and he smiled. “I heard. Congratulations, Charlotte. I guess that’ll make mother’s attempts at getting you thrown out of the country a little trickier.” Adam’s glare had no effect. “Sorry, fairy pants,” he said insincerely. “Too soon?”
Ignoring his comment, Adam forged ahead. “We’ve decided to make a few changes. I’ve got next to no time on my hands and Charli has plenty.”
Pre-empting his next sentence, Ryan looked at me and groaned. “You want your job back.”
Even from the corner of my eye, Adam’s grin was blinding. “She doesn’t need her job back. She now owns my half of Billet-doux.”
Ryan nearly choked. I’d never seen him stunned in to silence before, and I knew just how much fun rattling his cage could be.
Adam pushed a stack of paperwork across the table toward him. Ryan thumbed through them too quickly to have read any of them. “No, no, no,” he protested. “I like working with you, Adam. You never come here. You don’t argue. You’re a silent partner. I like silence. Charli doesn’t do silence.” He pushed the papers back to Adam as if that was all it would take to make them go away.
Adam slid them straight back. “Charli will be good for this place. She has some great ideas.”
He was lying. All I had was a couple of half-baked ideas and an urge to do something productive.
Obviously realising he wasn’t making any headway with Adam, he turned his attention to me. “Look, Charli, sweetheart,” he began, in his usual superior tone. “You’re very pretty.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” asked Adam gruffly.
“Let me finish.” Ryan’s eyes never left mine. “You’re very pretty and you’re very arty. But those attributes aren’t applicable to the running of a successful restaurant. You need to broaden your horizons.” For some strange reason, he started flapping his arms like he was trying to fly. “Find a glitter shop somewhere and make Adam buy it for you. Please, just tear up the papers and hand ownership back to your husband.”
“No,” I said simply.
Ryan dropped the calm demeanour instantly. “You and I are never going to work.” The words raged out of him.
“Why not?” asked Adam, grinning like an idiot.
“Because I am not enamoured by her like you are. She’s going to show up here and torment me on a daily basis.”
“I’ll make a deal with you, Ryan,” I suggested.
He gestured wildly at the stack of papers. “You’ve made enough deals for one day, wouldn’t you say?”
“Just hear her out,” urged Adam. “Let’s face it, you really don’t have much choice.”
Ryan slumped back, looking close to beaten. I seemed to have that effect on a lot of people lately.
“Billet-doux closes at two and opens again for dinner at six,” I said, in my best businesslike voice.
“It does,” he agreed wearily.
“Let me run service for those few hours, just for one day.”
“And serve what? Fairy food?” He thought he was being witty but he was closer to the mark than he could ever have anticipated.
“Yes,” I agreed, deadpan. “Fairy food.”
“Oh my God.” Ryan slapped his palm on his forehead. “You’ll bury us in a week.”
“Just give me a chance, Ryan. It’s only four hours.”
“I’m going to get this contract checked out,” he said waving the papers at both of us.
“It’s perfectly legal,” explained Adam, shrugging his shoulders and grinning like a complete villain. “Dad drew up the paperwork. Face it brother, you have no choice but to let her in.”
Ryan folded his arms across his chest, staring at me like I was his worst foe. “When do you plan to put this ridiculous plan into action?”
“Give me a week. All you have to do is show up here one week from today at two o’clock.”
“I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“None whatsoever,” replied Adam, smugly.
***
It only took a day for me to come to the realisation that I might have bitten off more than I could chew. Ryan had demanded a silent partnership. I learned pretty quickly that it was a one-sided arrangement. He’d called me at least five times, wanting to know my plans for Billet-doux. I assured him that everything was under control and then hung up on him, like a true New Yorker. My bravado was a complete act. I had a potentially awesome plan but seemed to flounder when it came to putting it into action.
Desperation makes you do strange things, which is the only explanation I could come up with for ending up at the queen’s door.
Mrs Brown looked positively alarmed when she saw me – so unnerved that I found myself promising that I wasn’t up to mischief. “I just need to see Fiona for a minute.”
“I would never turn you away, Charli,” she told me, ushering me into the foyer and taking my coat. “But please…”
I finished her sentence as her voice trailed off. “Don’t make eye contact and speak only in hushed tones?”
Mrs Brown brought her hand to her mouth to smother her giggle and showed me through to the lounge.
The queen kept me waiting an outlandishly long time. Finally she breezed in and pretended to be surprised to see me. “Charli. What are you doing here?”
“I need to ask a favour,” I said, wincing like a coward.
Fiona sat down on the couch opposite me, looking calm enough for me to think I wasn’t entirely wasting my time.
In a long monologue, I explained that I was planning a fairy themed high tea at Billet-doux. “My friend Ivy has been spreading the word. It’s completely booked out. Thirty little amped-up fairies are going to show up at Billet-doux expecting cakes, finger sandwiches and tea.”
“So what do you need from me?”
“Some help. I have to organise a menu and table decorations. Ryan will string me up by my feet if I can’t pull it off,” I said, sounding aptly terrified. “Fairy parties are generally classy and elegant affairs. I can’t think of anyone better than you to help me with it.”
“But why?”
I slapped both hands down on my knees, preparing to kill or be killed.
“Look, I know I’m not your favourite person but I have no hidden agenda. I just need the input of someone who actually knows what they’re doing. That would be you.”
F
iona didn’t speak for a long time. But she didn’t lunge across the coffee table and rip my throat out either so I patiently awaited her reply.
“When is this pixie soiree?” she asked finally.
“Friday.”
“Oh, good grief, Charlotte,” she moaned. “That’s cutting it a little fine, don’t you think?”
“Please, Fiona. I’ll do anything,” I clasped my hands together, pleading with her, “except give you back your youngest son. I won’t do that.”
She almost smiled. “Does Adam know you’re here?”
“Not yet,” I replied, shaking my head. “If it goes well, I might confess.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“I’ll do what I always do,” I said flatly. “I’ll lie to protect his feelings. I’ll deny ever being here and let him think that I’m okay with the decision he made to cut you off.”
“But you’re not okay with it?”
“Of course not,” I scoffed. “Historically, banishing the evil queen from your fairy tale never ends well.”
There was a time when I would’ve regretted such an obtuse comment but it had long since passed. Sooner or later she was going to have to accept me for who I was. Thanks to my new visa status, I wasn’t going anywhere. Perhaps she realised that. Instead of rebuking me, she saw the funny side. She almost smiled.
After keeping me hanging for an eternity, she finally agreed to help me, which freed me up to tell Adam the truth. He wasn’t pleased to hear that I’d recruited the queen. He likened it to making a deal with the devil. I found myself defending her because I no longer thought of her as the devil. She was more like an angry mother bear trying to protect her cubs – from a mouse. Ryan, however, was the devil, which was the sole reason I couldn’t afford to screw up the fairy tea.
“I need her help, Adam,” I told him. “She was actually quite nice to me today.”
He looked at me baffled, shaking his head. “Working in conjunction with my mother will not go well for you.”
“There’s no need for lawyer speak.”
He chuckled darkly. “Fine. Hanging out with Mom will be impossible,” he amended. “Like nailing Jell-O to a tree.”
***
The days leading up to the high tea flew by in a blur of fairy cakes and pink macaroons. Fiona had managed to track down everything I wanted, giving me all the tools I needed to host a perfect event.
I had been summoned to the house early that morning to check the last item on the list, fairy-esque table linen. Fiona was kneeling on the floor amongst a stack of boxes when I arrived. She never looked cold and aloof anymore. Somewhere along the line she’d lost her severity, and managed to become a whole lot prettier in the process.
“Charli,” she purred, abandoning the pile of cloth napkins in her lap as she stood up to greet me. “I was just going through the linens. I managed to get pink and mauve.”
Another bad habit she’d let go of lately was the dumb air kissing. She’d become a hugger.
“That’s great,” I replied, enduring the awkward embrace.
I scanned the room, feeling a little creeped-out by the grand effort she’d gone to. The shift between us had been so swift that I wasn’t entirely sure I could trust it. Something about my expression must have exposed me.
“I’ve enjoyed doing this with you,” she insisted, speaking slowly. “I’ve never really had the opportunity to plan anything sparkly and pretty.” She knelt back down on the floor and began rifling through a box. “It’s a theme that never rated highly when my boys were small.”
I sat near her and dragged the closest box toward me. “My dad endured years of it. Fairyology was practically my religion.” I held off telling her that it still was. All of my good work in convincing her that I was sane would have disappeared in an instant.
She dragged a candy-pink tablecloth out of a box and fanned it across her lap. “I made my bridesmaids wear dresses this colour,” she said irrelevantly. “Fashion back then left a lot to be desired.” I smiled, giving her enough reassurance to continue her tale. “To make matters worse, I made Jean-Luc wear a powder grey suit, but it made no difference. He was still the most handsome man I’d ever laid eyes on.”
I giggled. Jean-Luc was the most handsome man I’d ever laid eyes on.
“So it was love at first sight then?”
“It was tremendous.” She grinned. “But not always easy. I had a terrible time trying to adjust in the early years.”
For a second I considered picking up the nearest box and belting her with it. Her admission proved something I’d known to be true for a while: we were cut from the same average, working class cloth. If anyone should’ve been welcoming me with open arms and guiding me through my New York life, it should’ve been her.
“I can relate to that.” It was the most diplomatic way I could think to say it.
“I acted abhorrently toward you,” she conceded, fiddling with the edge of the cloth on her lap to avoid looking at me. “But you were tougher than I gave you credit for.”
I shrugged, trying to shake the growing tension in my chest. “I don’t feel like I even have a choice where Adam is concerned. I have no choice but to love him. That’s why I’m here. That’s the only reason I’m still here.”
She smiled but still refused to look at me. “I have only ever wanted the very best for my sons. I wanted them to find nice girls with similar lives to their own.”
I couldn’t help grimacing. As far as I knew, there were no nice girls with lives similar to his. They were all spoiled, entitled bitches. “Like Whitney, you mean?”
She ignored me, continuing as if I hadn’t spoken. “I knew Adam had put himself in an impossible quandary. He chose to fall in love with a girl who constantly rebels against the fabulous opportunity she’s been gifted.”
“All I ever wanted out of the deal was Adam,” I told her, fighting to keep calm. “Anything beyond that is a curse.”
Finally she looked at me. “Why can’t you grasp the possibility of what’s before you, Charli? I know it takes some getting used to. I came from nothing too.”
I frowned, concentrating on not saying anything regretful. “I didn’t come from nothing. I have always had plenty.”
“But marrying my son guarantees you anything you could ever want.”
Things suddenly became a whole lot clearer. Fiona saw marrying Jean-Luc as a windfall. Her initial aversion to me hadn’t even been personal. Any girl who managed to crack the Décarie circle would have been considered a threat, especially if she’d arrived with empty pockets. Proving good intentions was impossible from the beginning. Adam’s Jell-O analogy came to mind.
“Don’t you see?” I asked, frustrated. “I love Adam in spite of that, not because of it.”
She shook her head as confusion set in. “Most girls would be thrilled by it. He’s the perfect package.”
I almost felt sorry for her. She just wasn’t getting it. “Money doesn’t thrill me. The way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not watching thrills me. And as for being the perfect package, Adam is definitely not perfect.” She sucked in a sharp breath, outraged because I’d dared to find fault in one of her flawless boys. I elaborated quickly before she had a chance to speak. “He is not perfect, Fiona. He’s very selfish with his time. He can be horribly impatient and sometimes he drives me nuts. But I love him. That’s it.”
“You’re a very fortunate girl then,” she mumbled.
“Can I ask you something?” I busied myself folding napkins to dull the chagrin in case she said no.
“Of course.”
“What did you bring to the table when you got married?”
Her pretty face crumpled as bewilderment set in. “I don’t understand your question.”
“Well, if handsome Jean-Luc was prince charming because he brought you wealth and good standing, what was in it for him?” I asked. “You’re adamant that you had nothing.”
Fiona deliberated for a long time, absently picking at a l
oose thread on the tablecloth in her hands. “I have no idea.”
“Perhaps you should ask him,” I suggested. “He might surprise you. There was a reason he chose you.”
She laughed lightly, taking no offense. “I might do that. Do you know why Adam chose you?”
“I have a few ideas,” I hinted, unwilling to introduce her to merits of hanging out in La La land.
The conversation was a welcome change. I had no idea if the shift between us was permanent, but anything that made life easier was worth the chance.
***
With help from Fiona, encouragement from Adam and an overwhelming desire to prove Ryan wrong, I managed to pull Billet-doux’s inaugural fairy high tea together. It was a completely full house thanks to Ivy and her pageant posse. Every little princess in the city was now sitting at impeccably decorated fairy tables at Billet-doux. The little girls feasted on every fairy delicacy imaginable for two solid hours, racking up Ryan’s profits to stellar levels.
“I’m very impressed, Tink,” he whispered, sidling up beside me as I watched over the crowded front of house from the podium.
“Me too.” I grinned. “It’s going great.”
Obviously he hadn’t seen Faberge wipe her chocolate coated hands along the white upholstered chair she was sitting on – or the little girl who threw up in the potted Ficus tree near the door.
“The bar sales alone make it worthwhile.”
I studied the room a bit closer. Every woman there seemed to have a glass in her hand. Maybe alcohol is a necessary evil when you’re the parent of a wannabe fairy. By rights, Alex should’ve been a drunk.
Adam’s manic schedule meant he couldn’t be there to see how things turned out. Being disappointed about it was fruitless. I was almost used to it.
Bente made a five-minute cameo but ducked out before the sugar hit could affect the already buzzing fairies. Her quick exit might also have had something to do with Ryan’s less than contrite attitude toward her. She didn’t have to mention how crushing it was that he acted as if nothing had happened between them. It was painfully obvious. The only one who didn’t get it was him.