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locked every attempt he’d made in the past to expand upstairs, citing too much growth on Frenchmen
Street. So he was taking no chances now, and even went so far as to compliment her hair and her
dress, feeling my elbow in his side when he started in on her shoes.
We gathered with Dauphine and Mark for a minute, she in a stunning jet blue off-the-shoulder
cocktail dress, her hair a Veronica Lake tribute; he in a tux, with jeans, of course, both wearing dopey
grins, a match made in heaven if there ever was one.
“Cassie! So fucking good to see you,” Mark said, throwing his arms around me and lifting me off
the ground. In my ear, he whispered, “I owe you big-time.”
I had long reassured Will of my “friends only” status with the “skinny boy” who had stopped into
the Café that day to invite me to hear him play. And I think he believed me. But Mark’s enthusiastic
greeting had Will instinctually putting a warm hand on my back.
“You look gorgeous, Cassie,” said Dauphine, leaning towards me and out of Will’s earshot. “And
promise me you’ll come by the store more often. This isn’t goodbye. You changed my life.”
“And you two better be regulars in my restaurant,” I said, announcing its new name. Will looked as
chuffed as I felt. “Congratulations,” they both said. And after Mark promised to hold court in the
corner with a guitar on opening night, they left to navigate the crowd back to the bar. I turned to slide
my arms through Will’s jacket, wending them behind his back in an embrace.
“You have nothing to worry about,” I said, looking up at him, my chin on his chest.
“What? I know that,” he said, moving a strand of stray hair behind my ear.
“I never thought you were the jealous type, Will.”
“I’m not. I’m just … I guess I’m a little sensitive these days. I’ll get over. And soon, I’ll start taking
you completely for granted.”
“I’m looking forward to that,” I said, kind of meaning it.
The evening was unfolding so beautifully. Even after Angela Rejean strolled by in a criminally
short silver mini-dress that tilted the attention of the entire room in her direction, including Will’s.
Her legs had me spellbound, so much so, I didn’t notice the light hand on my shoulder. I assumed it
was Will again, his touch becoming such a lovely constant, I almost noticed it more when he didn’t
have a hand on me.
“Cassie Robichaud, how nice it is to see you again. And looking ravishing in black satin.”
I turned around and there he was, Pierre Castille, holding a glass of red wine, his frustratingly
handsome face lighting up when I met his gaze. With his free hand he clasped an upper arm to kiss my
two cheeks, my skin beneath his touch becoming goose-fleshed and chilled. He’d been drinking. Quite
a bit. Oh God, what is he doing here?
“Hello, Pierre,” I said, my voice faltering. I looked around for Dauphine, suddenly worried for her.
“And that dress. Oh, and if it isn’t my old childhood pal, Will Foret. Seeing you in a tux—now
that’s worth the price of admission!”
“Pierre, I see you’re still always happy to attend the opening of any old envelope,” Will said,
giving me a what the fuck is he doing here? kind of look.
I shrugged, looking around frantically for Matilda.
“I could hardly miss tonight, Will, my man. After all, it is—or rather was my fifteen million that
this organization is giving away.”
Will turned to me. “His money?”
“But what can you do?” Pierre continued, doing his best to camouflage a slight slur. “You try to
support causes you care about and sometimes they just don’t want your help. Women! Am I right? A