“But she loves him. She’ll forgive him eventually.”
“I hope you’re right.” Claudette pushed herself away from the desk and moved toward the window behind Maurice. “You know what I don’t quite understand?”
He waited a beat before responding. “What’s that?”
“I don’t understand what Edouard Renault was hoping to accomplish by putting such a stipulation in his will to begin with. Why tie Julian and Lecie’s inheritances to Andre’s? Like they have any control over Andre’s actions.”
“I supposed he was one of those old-world sophisticates who believe a man should be settled. Married.” Maurice offered an explanation.
The whole thing sounded like something Maurice would do.
Damn! Why hadn’t she seen it before? She glared at her husband through squinted eyes. “As I recall, you spent your share of time in Avignon during the months prior to Edouard’s death.”
“Yes, I did,” he said with a bit of caution.
She slapped Maurice’s arm. “How could you?” she screamed. “How could you meddle with Andre’s life like that? Didn’t you learn your lesson with Julian?”
“The boy needed a push. I gave him one.”
“Andre hasn’t been a boy in a very long time, Maurice.” She scolded him. “You coerced Edouard into that ridiculous notion?”
“It was a mutual endeavor.” Maurice defended his actions.
“Well, your mutual endeavor may well have ruined Andre’s life. Tell me again how that was for his own good.”
“He needed a reason to marry Tasha. A girl like her would get snatched up quickly. He needed an incentive. I provided it.”
“How on Earth did you talk Edouard into leaving his entire fortune to our children?”
“Well, he was already determined to leave it to the boys, mostly Andre because he knew Julian was set to inherit the bulk of the de Laurent fortune. It wasn’t hard to talk him into providing Andre with a little guidance. I told him if he included Lecie, Andre would feel more beholden to follow through. That it was possible he might dismiss Julian’s inheritance, saying his brother had plenty already. But Andre would never rob his sister of such an inheritance.”
Claudette threw her hands in the air. Her frustration poured out in a shrilling cry. “When will you learn your lesson?” She glared at him. “Or are you hell-bent on giving it one more try with Lecie first?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ANDRE AND TASHA DE LAURENT’S one-year anniversary was fast approaching, with less than a week to go. Cecily had been waiting by the phone for Harvey Martel’s call ever since she and Daniel had moved to Monteux, a little town just north of Avignon, last month. Surely the attorneys had learned by now that Andre de Laurent was separated, and on the verge of being divorced from his wife.
Unable to stand it any longer, she took the initiative and called Harvey Martel, Edouard Renault’s attorney. As she waited for him to get on the line, she tapped her manicured fingernails on the table.
Finally, she heard his voice, “Martel.”
“Mr. Martel. It’s Cecily Mason.” She waited, but he didn’t say anything, so she continued, “I’m calling about the Edouard Renault will.”
“Hello, Ms. Mason. I appreciate your calling, however, I’m afraid I can’t discuss the particulars with you at this stage.”
“Why not?” she asked. “Am I not named in that will?”
“Yes, yes you are. But only as an alternate heir. So unless the principal heirs forgo their claims, I’m afraid there’s not much I can share with you.”
“The principal heirs…?” This made no sense to Cecily. “But Andre de Laurent has not met with the will’s stipulations.”
“On the contrary.”
“That’s not true. His wife left him two months ago.”
“I don’t know where you got your information, but you’ve been grossly misled.”
“I don’t think so. I know for a fact that she left him back in the summer.” Heat flushed through Cecily’s body.
“Again, madam, I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed. Not that I owe you explanations, but Mr. de Laurent, his wife, and his siblings were in my office yesterday, at which point final documents were signed and the de Laurents have officially inherited Edouard Renault’s fortune.”
And then Harvey Martel had the nerve to hang up on her.
Cecily let out a shrilling scream and ran stomping from the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
TASHA HAD TWO SUITCASES LINED up side-by-side on the bed. She was filling them with her favorite garments. The luggage would accompany her to Belle Vallee in Avignon. The staff at Pacifique de Lumière would pack up the rest of her things, and they’d be brought to Belle Vallee in a day or two. Tasha had given in that much with Andre, who hadn’t wanted her to lift a finger throughout the whole process of moving to the house in Avignon. “There is the baby to consider, after all,” he’d said. To which she’d responded that she was pregnant, not terminally ill.
Considering that Andre was about to become her ex-husband, he and Tasha had a remarkably cordial relationship. Of course, they still loved each other. Neither of them were denying that. And Tasha hoped that one day she’d find a way to get past the trust issue, but so far that hadn’t happened.
She pulled a nightgown out of the dresser drawer. It was one of Andre’s favorites. He’d always said she looked divine in the peacock-green satin and lace garment. Tasha clutched the garment to her chest for a moment before stepping toward the bed and tossing it into the suitcase.
For as much as she knew she had to, leaving Andre was hard. She still loved him. She would always love him. But until she could whole-heartedly believe that he loved her more than he wanted the Renault money, it was a hopeless case.
Tasha blew out a sigh, propped her hands on her hips and glanced around the room. She’d made a lot of memories with Andre in this room. She hated that the last ones were without him.
“Thinking about leaving here is always easier than actually doing it.” Claudette was standing in the doorway. How long she’d been there, Tasha hadn’t a clue.
“Yeah.” Tasha nodded.
“We wish you’d stay,” Claudette said.
“I’ll be in Avignon.” Tasha tried to smile. “It’s not that far. And you know you’re welcome to see the baby anytime you want.”