Page 46 of At the Ready

Cress interrupts. “Come on, René.”

Her mouth quirks into a sly smile as he says, “Oui, Madame Taylor.”

“We’re going to the Carnavalet, then a patisserie, then to the Sainte-Chapelle.”

Micki gives her a tap on the arm. “Don’t forget I have a meeting at 3:00 p.m. and I’ll be working at some point this evening.”

Cress knits her brows together in irritation. Micki is so focused on work and the brass ring of promotion, I fear I’ll hardly see her. This interlude should bring us closer together, but it may drive us apart.

“No arguments,” Cress tells her, slipping an arm through Micki’s, and practically drags her through the glass doors and out through the courtyard, my man trailing behind.

Max slaps me on the back. “I’m parched for a cuppa. Let’s meet Allan and the Inspector.”

* * *

Micki

Once we’re out of view, I pull Cress down onto a bench. René hovers nearby, pretending to watch the kids playing. “Okay, tell me about the ring, and the proposal.”

She holds out her left hand, where the antique opal and emerald engagement ring flashes in the sunlight. “It’s a Grant family heirloom.”

“Did Max drop to one knee?”

Her laugh competes with the water streaming from the fountain. “He came looking for me in their family conservatory. Then he just blurted it out—marry me.” Her eyes are unfocused. “And I said yes. It was so romantic. Even his father warned me that when I agreed to take on Max, I got the rest of them as a package deal.”

Wow. I hope someday I’ll find a guy who’ll propose like that. But who am I kidding? The promotion probably means being an old maid. I think back to my conversation with JL at Tempo. I know the pattern. At forty-six, with my career uppermost, no man is going to take a chance on me.

I must say it out loud, because Cress punches my arm. “Nonsense. Rebecca’s married, isn’t she?”

“She got married in law school. Totally different.” That reminds me of her interactions with Simon Greenberg. Maybe he proposed and she spurned him. The thought makes me giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Cress gives me a cross-eyed glare.

“Just thinking about Rebecca and her law school classmates.”

A text message interrupts.

REBECCA: Meeting canceled. See you tomorrow.

“Important?” Cress asks.

I honestly don’t know, but the pattern sends up warning flags. “I don’t have to meet with the team, so I’m at your disposal.”

“That’s good. We don’t have to rush.” She settles back on the bench, swinging her legs. “Getting back to engagements. Max and I have a bet going on how long it will take before JL lets you know he’s serious.” She titters, then glances away moistening her lips. “You’ll be my maid of honor, right?’

“Of course. Who else?” I want to know the rest of the deets on the trip, but I need her take on Sam’s threats. And I should probably mention how things stand with the firm.

René loiters just out of earshot but close enough to counter any danger. I don’t expect Sam to pop up from one of the hedges. He never has much money and I let him mooch off me for all the years we were together. I’m sure that’s one reason he wants me back. I’m not rich, but I have a very comfortable income and a place to live. He has neither and can’t live with his parents since he rejected them a decade ago.

“Something wrong, Micki?”

I can’t blurt it out, so I pull up the text messages and let her read them.

Her mouth drops open. Once she finishes and hands my phone back, she yelps, “WTF.” The sound is shocking in the courtyard’s seclusion of one of the grand maisons. “Has JL seen these?”

“No.”

“Why not?” The accusation in her voice makes me wince.

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