“Why did you call me here to discuss strategy?” Conrad stood over Cecily’s small bar and plucked ice cubes from the bucket and dropped them into a whiskey glass. He grabbed the nearest decanter, whiskey, and looked at her. “I’ve told you, we have no legal recourse. Let it go.”
From across the room, Cecily pretzeled her arms in front of her and stared at Conrad. “I’m not letting anything go until I have my fair share of Edouard Renault’s estate.”
Cecily and Conrad had come from the poor side of the family. As far as she could see, this was their chance to get even for what she perceived as their great grandmother being left out in the cold.
Jacques Renault had made himself a fortune, and then he’d left his sister to live like a pauper. What kind of man does that, anyway? Cecily had always hated her great grandmother’s brother for that, and now that she had a bonafide chance to rectify the error, she wasn’t about to let it slip away to some technicality.
“Cecily, I just don’t see how we can do anything but wait and see.” If Conrad had half as much determination as that effective stare of his, they just might get somewhere.
“Connie…” She called him by the childhood nicknamed he loathed so much. She had to do something to get him riled up. “This is no time to take a wait and see stance.”
But of course, Conrad could afford to feel indifferent about the prospect. He’d done all right for himself, making a decent living as a probate attorney, while Cecily had been stuck in that hospital nursery for more years than she’d ever planned to stay. Of course, she loved the babies. That’s why she’d stayed. But there was something to be said for never having to go to the hospital again as a means to support herself. She’d much rather drop in for a visit once in a while. And Edouard Renault, as dead as he was, could make that happen.
Cecily barged across the room toward Conrad. “Do you think those billions are going to come knocking on the door? Connie, we have to take charge here.”
“Take charge?” he crowed. “There’s no way Andre de Laurent will relinquish his inheritance.”
At Conrad’s side now, Cecily reached for a glass and filled it with water. “Well, he won’t have a choice if he’s not married at the end of sixty days now, will he?” She held the glass next to her cheek and let her resolve shape her mouth into a smug smile.
“Look, when a man stands to inherit billions—if he needs a wife to do it, he’ll find one and he’ll have no trouble in his hunt.” He looked at the glass he’d been holding. He drew in a long breath then raised it to his lips, putting away half of the contents.
“We’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t find one.” Cecily reiterated with a nod.
“And how do you suppose we do that?”
“The first thing we have to do is find out whether or not he has any fair prospects from the women that he’s already acquainted with.”
“Well, of course he does. Every girl he’s ever known is a fair prospect.”
“You should hope that he’ll have to buy a wife.” Cecily was sure her laughter, although refrained, bit at Conrad.
“Why should that be so?”
“Because, brother dear, whatever he offers her, we’ll offer her more if she foils his plan.”
It wasn’t that Cecily had anything in particular against Andre de Laurent. Right now, he was the obstacle that stood in her way.
Little brother Conrad might be willing to sit around and wait to see if Andre de Laurent was going to find himself a wife or surrender the inheritance to them, but Cecily was not. She hadn’t spent forty-two years on this Earth to be cheated a second time.
Conrad was about to say something—probably more contempt for her plan—when the door opened. Cecily glanced up, seeing her husband and the PI they’d hired. “Ah, good…here’s Daniel now.” She set her glass on the bar and cut her eyes toward Conrad. “I have it all figured out. You’ll see.”
Daniel sidled up to Cecily and gave her a peck on the cheek. She responded with a cooing smile, took Daniel’s hands and nodded at the PI.
“Conrad,” Daniel said. “This is Peter Wittmeyer. Peter, this is my brother-in-law Conrad Garceau. And you know my wife Cecily.”
“Connie,” Cecily focused on her brother. “Mr. Wittmeyer has been in America, specifically California, on our behalf.”
“Why?” Conrad’s shaky voice and his ever-shifting eyes told Cecily he was tallying up imaginary numbers in his head. Wondering if they could afford it? No, but when billions were at stake, she was more than willing to take the risk. Conrad cleared his throat, but it did little to bring confidence to his tone. “Why would we send him to America?”
“To do reconnaissance.” Cecily turned to Peter, and asked, “Any luck?”
“That girl…” Wittmeyer said. “The one in the papers. She denies any close relation to de Laurent.”
“You talked directly to her?”
“Yes. I had breakfast at her place of employment. We had a nice conversation. She’s a waitress, which does corroborate her claim that they’re not involved.”
Cecily snorted. “Anybody who’s been photographed with my dear, distant cousin as many times as she has…you can believe they are involved.”
“I’m just telling you what she said.” Peter shook his head. “If your cousin is going to get married, she’ll be the one, and I doubt you’ll be able to sway her.”
“Oh, dear…” Cecily felt the knot form in her gut. “This is not good. Not good at all.” She swallowed hard, but was unable to keep the knot from rising into her throat.
“It’s just a minor setback,” Peter said.
“How so?”
“Doesn’t his marriage have to last a year?”
Cecily nodded.
“Well then, just make sure you break it up before that.”
Cecily sucked in a breath of hope. If Andre and his American floozy did marry, and Cecily somehow managed to break them up, surely the terms of the will wouldn’t tolerate a second shot.
CHAPTER SIX
THE SUN HAD NEARLY SET BEHIND THE horizon by the time Simon, Andre’s valet, had him packed and ready to head for America. Andre held onto the hope that this trip would put a quick end to his search for a bride.
Naturally, if Andre needed a wife, Tasha was his first choice. And Papa just may have come up with an approach to make that happen—in return for helping him, Andre would make Tasha a star.