Page 28 of The Marriage Sham
Chapter Fifteen
Frances
Lover’s Landing has barely even opened, it’s so early in the morning. But leave it to Colette, my nightmare client, to take a red-eye into town and show up looking like she got eight hours of beauty sleep. I’d seen pictures of her, of course, but nothing could prepare me for the sight that greets me as I walk through the door of the coffee shop.
There she stands, almost six feet tall in a raven black pantsuit clinging to her size zero frame. Even the sharp crease down her pant leg refuses to bend, lest it incur her wrath. Red soled, sky high stiletto heels adorn her feet and probably double as a weapon if she doesn’t get her way. Betty, God bless her, is smiling politely at her as she places her order. With her back to me, it gives me another few moments to collect my thoughts and take a couple more deep breaths. As Colette digs in her uber expensive black leather handbag for her wallet, I wonder what devices of evil she carries in there.
I swallow a chuckle and remind myself to tell Fen about her appearance. He’ll get a kick out of it, I’m sure. Calmer now, I approach from behind.
“Colette?” I paste on a pleasant smile, which falters a bit when she doesn’t turn around right away. She hands her money over to Betty, then leisurely puts her wallet away. Then, and only then, does she spin around and cooly assess me from head to toe.
Her eyes are a dark brown, so dark I can barely detect the color difference from her pupils. Her long brown hair is swept back into a tight ponytail at the crown of her head. If ballerinas had evil stepmothers, they’d look just like Colette.
She bares her teeth at me, and I shift my weight backward, fully intending to protect myself by running away. When her hand karate chops into the space between us, I realize she’s attempting to smile, expecting a handshake. I quickly shift back and shake her hand, impressed with both her grip strength and the lack of warmth in a living, human hand.
I honestly don’t know whether I should be worried or amused. It mostly just feels like Halloween came early to Love, Georgia. I can’t help but think the Addams family called and they’d like Morticia back. This time the giggle comes out as a hiccup, and I silently scold myself for not focusing on the business at hand.
“Ready to discuss your event?” I wave my hand toward a two-seater table in the corner, hoping to have some privacy so we can hammer out all her last-minute ridiculous requests without it hitting the small town gossip grapevine.
She regally nods her head, and I lead the way, feeling her gaze on me the whole time. Once we’re seated, I open up my laptop and pull out my folder.
Colette rests her elbows on the table and leans forward, grabbing my full attention. I stare into her dark eyes, feeling like I’m free falling into the pits of hell. Again, I should be focused on what she’s saying, but I’m struck dumb by a new thought: I can’t wait to go home and cuddle up with Fen and talk about my day. I can’t imagine him not being there.
“Do you understand?” Colette is trying to kill me with her laser-like eye gaze, and I’m over here daydreaming about my husband-not-husband.
I nod deferentially, hoping she can’t read my thoughts. “Yes, I do.”
“Excellent. Then we won’t have any issues. This event will make or break my career, Frances. There can be no mistakes, no confusion, no second-rate anything.”
I keep nodding, feeling like a bobble-head. “That’s exactly why I want to go over every detail again to make sure we aren’t forgetting anything. Shall we start with the catering?”
By the time we get through every detail, I have pages of notes to double check on and a brewing headache. Colette stands up, and I stare stupidly at the creases in her pants, wondering how she gets them to stay perfect, even after sitting for two hours. I don’t know why I care about her pants so much, but it’s like they’re an accurate representation of the woman herself: perfect, untouchable, razor-sharp.
Another cold handshake ends our meeting, and she leaves the coffee shop, hushed conversation following her departure. I rub my temples and thank my lucky stars I survived the meeting with my pride—and head—intact.
A hot mocha slides under my nose, and I follow the arm up to the sympathetic smile of Betty. “She’s quite the ball buster, huh?”
Laughter bubbles up and out, the stress making her comment far funnier than it is. “Yeah, you can say that again. Was it just me, or did the place get ten degrees cooler when she walked in?”
Betty shakes her head, those knowing eyes twinkling mischievously. “Harold took one look at her and walked out the back saying he was taking his break. Men!”
“Ah well, she’s gone now, and I’m almost done with this event. If it goes well, which it better or Colette might just kill me, she could bring me some fabulous referrals.” I shrug.
Betty pats me on the shoulder. “Sometimes potential referrals aren’t worth the months of hell you have to put up with in order to get them.” Then she walks off, leaving me to think on the truth of that statement.
I’m also left with time to think about Fen. If I can’t fathom a day when I go home and he isn’t there, I should really examine this fake marriage of ours. He’s already offered to make it more. And for the first time, I’m leaning toward saying yes.
In just a few short weeks, we’ve built a solid friendship when I never would have predicted I’d give him the time of day. Given a few more weeks, could we build a solid relationship? A solid marriage?
“Only one way to find out…” I mutter, savoring the thick chocolate flavor in my mouth. Betty snuck some high calorie whipped cream in there, I can tell, that little minx. It might not be what my waistline needs, but it’s what I need to fully relax and recover from the traumatic two hours with Colette.
And when I am done, I’ll go home to attend to Granddaddy and to tell Fen my answer is most assuredly a “yes.”
* * *
I’ve gotmy favorite oversized t-shirt on, the one that’s been worn and washed so many times it’s velvety soft. I’m all ready for bed, but know sleep won’t come. Chewing on my lip and pacing the living room floor, I debate what to do.
I came home to no Fen. So I spent the rest of the afternoon working on all the details I’d taken notes on during my meeting with Colette. Then I’d made dinner, fed Granddaddy, tried to get him to play a board game with me, then put him to bed.
