A/N: forum. random- fandom. net - seems like a nifty place to hang around. They have a few interesting discussions going whether you are a ff reader or a writer or just a fan of any series, so if you are not already over there, maybe go have a look-see. Thank you for the love after last chapter. I'm a bit embarrassed now. FF is being weird this week.
I told Eric all about Peterson as we drove back to my hotel, looking over at him from time to time. He had the seat all the way back and still had his knees practically touching the dashboard. He was politely not mentioning the fact that he was clearly very cramped, which I appreciated. I figure he knew what he was getting, and if he really minded, he could have just called for a car instead of calling me. In the same light, I was taking him back to my hotel rather than his.
"Do you have any ideas for the summer programs?" he asks with interest.
"Only one so far. I was thinking that we could play with different numeral and counting systems. So the base ten system that we use, you know, one, ten, one hundred, one thousand, but then also base five, base eight, and some of the ones from antiquity...the Babylonian system, and Roman and Egyptian numerals of course."
"So hex and binary and such?"
"Oh especially those, because they're in such wide use in computers. I was actually in college before I ever even encountered other number systems, and then we were a bunch of eighteen, nineteen year olds, counting on our fingers."
He laughs at that, "Yeah, I was the same, though we only did binary. I taught myself hex one weekend."
"Sounds like a wild time," I grin.
"I'm not about to be mocked for my intellectual curiosity by the woman who's sitting here giddy over the prospect of working at math camp."
"Touché," I concede. "Anyway, I also thought we could do something with the Mayan Calendar, you know using their base-twenty counting to learn it, and then extrapolate future dates. It could be kind of cute, with all the doomsday predictions going for this year. Maybe like mythbusting, or saving the world with math skills or something silly."
"Since that actually does sound fun, I'd say you've got a hit."
"You think?"
"I do. So you've got all sorts of meetings down here for the new few weeks?"
"Yeah," I agree.
"Sounds nice and hectic."
"Yes," I agree again.
We arrive back at my hotel and he retrieves his bag from my trunk and carries it up to the lobby. A bellhop approaches but Eric waves him off and we head to the elevator. I found myself mildly pleased that someone had tried to attend him. It was a little bit of proof that I'd made a good choice in this current hotel. Once we reach my room he asks if I mind if he showers, and of course I don't. He just leaves his bag and heads in the bathroom so I had an amusing time of setting up the luggage rack with his bag for him, as he'd done for me when I stayed at his hotel room. I stripped off and got right into bed, since it was late. He wasn't long in joining me, all warm and damp from his shower. I found myself pressing into him eagerly and he does not leave me wanting.
He quickly rolls on top of me, kissing me hard on the mouth, parting my lips while his hands get busy running up and down my sides, wrapping around me. I wrap myself around him right back, my legs coming up to lock around his hips. I hold one arm around his neck, my hand fisting in his hair and the other across his shoulders. I thought I was holding him to me, but it turns out I was holding me to him as he comes up on his knees and shifts me easily up the bed, my back now resting against the pillows. He pulls my arms free of him, pinning them to my sides by the wrists as he slides down my body, licking and nibbling as he goes. My legs fall away from him, feet falling flat on either side of him. At the impulse to touch him, I pull at my arms and he releases me, his hands dragging over the tops of my thighs then pushing back up the insides, spreading me wide open for him. I hear myself let out a soft mewl, in wanting and anticipation.
He pulls his gaze from my sex which had fascinated him and locks his eyes on mine. "I shouldn't want you this fucking badly after only a week," he says in a low voice. My lips part to reply, though I've nothing to say to that. He shakes his head at me, telling me he needs no response and then tells me to watch him, and I do. His eyes close as he dips his head to me, tasting me and I sigh as I shiver. When he lifts his eyes again, I meet them. He rewards me over and over, tongue stroking, swirling, lapping. I lower a hand and part my fingers, spreading myself further for him. He kisses my fingertips. My vision goes hazy and my breathing hitched and ragged and all I can focus on are his dark, sparkling eyes hooded with the same lust I feel and the tight warmth coiling between my hips. My soft cries thrum apace with the rhythm he sets. They are nothing I can control and suddenly the rush of heat bursts outward and I arch upward in my bliss, my shoulders lifting, my hand rising to his chin as if I could pull him to me with only that.
And it works, by a miracle, as he draws his knees up under my legs and lifts me on to him, rising to meet me. He impales himself in me and I bury my face into his chest still trembling. His hips rock and I feel him moving inside of me and I cling to him, unable to do more for several moments until finally I find my legs and begin to shift in counter measure. I reach back behind me with one hand and then the other, draped across his thighs and half spread out before him. From here I can see his eyes again. He clutches my hips and I feel him move faster, pulling me against his thrusts. I let him take over. I let my head fall back. I hear him grunt and groan. It is animal. I fix my feet to the bed and lift my hips and then all I can feel is him driving into me. It is the only sensation I'm aware of until he brings his thumb to me and then I am gone again. I feel him grab at my hips as I fall away, hear him moan his pleasure. I feel the hot splash of it across my belly. He slumps beside me, our legs entangled.
After minutes, "Jesus Christ," he breathes out.
"Amen," I agree.
We slept.
I woke up to him getting out of bed and I complained with a soft little whine. I tried to reach for him but he was gone, so I slumped across the warm bit of mattress he'd just vacated. I heard him telling me to give him three minutes, then join him. I think I gave him a few more than that. I'm fairly certain I dozed off again for a bit. I found him in the shower and he seemed very awake, taking a wholly undo amount of joy in the fact that the spray aimed at his shoulders hit me right in the face. He nudged me forward and rinsed himself off.
"This one is no good for sharing," he says, before kissing me and leaving me there. I took a quick but thorough shower. We'd fallen asleep covered in sex and while in the moment, if I had thought of it at all, it had seemed sexy and intimate. We'd so exhausted each other that we could do nothing else but pass out. This morning, not so much.
"I called for breakfast," he tells me when I emerge wrapped in a towel. "And the newspaper, so you can start looking at apartments."
"Thank you," I say, yawning. "Coffee too?"
He just smirks at that. It's a given. I grabbed a lavender bra and panty set out of my bag and slipped them on. Lavender works for me, it's that bold, dark, satiny purple I just know Crystal has in mind for her bridesmaids' gowns that I'm dreading. Eric was watching me again, so I walked to the closet and held up two sundresses and asked him to choose. He picked the blue-green one, over the pink. I slipped it on, as well as a shrug, and then some sandals. I find a comb and start to work on my hair.
"So, what do you have planned today?" I ask him.
"I think I need to make a plan today. There are a number of people here I need to contact."
"I can take you over to your place whenever. I don't have anywhere to be until one o'clock, and then I'm having lunch with a friend."
"Sorority friend?" he asks.
"Arlene, yeah. I don't know if I mentioned, she's having a baby."
"Lot of that going around," he observes.
"Heh, not for me. I got my shot at my last check up," I assure him. "But yes, it'll be interesting to talk to her and such so I'll know, and so I can pass tips to Jason about Crystal."
There was a knock at the door then and I answered it, tipping the man who brought up our food. We settled down and I found that he'd got me blueberry pancakes, which turned out to be just what I was in the mood for. I went right for the real estate section, leaving the rest of the paper to him.
"What time is checkout?" he asks. He was breezing through the pages, doing little more than reading the headlines to keep himself busy.
"Mm. Eleven I think? I'm here until tomorrow though."
"You're not coming back with me?"
"You're not staying with me?" I counter. I know that probably we'll end up back at his place, but I'll go ahead and have this volley.
"My room is larger," he says with a smile.
"But we are already here," I say.
"The bathroom is nicer there," he says.
"The breakfast is better here," I assert. It was. These pancakes are freaking delicious, buttery and tart from the berries and dusted with powdered sugar. Mmm. I take another big bite for emphasis. He frowns and leans over and helps himself to a bite of them. I grin when he gives a reluctant nod to acknowledge their superiority.
"The bed..." he begins.
"Oh I think the bed here is very nice," I say quickly.
"Yes, I won't argue that. I have more things there," he says.
"I have more things here."
"Sookie, will you please check out early and come stay with me until you have to leave?"
"Well alright. Since you've asked so nicely," I smile. "When's Pam coming?" I ask.
"Tomorrow," he says.
"Poor thing," I say. She's been flying back and forth even more than Eric lately. "Maybe I should contact a realtor, I muse."
"Where are you looking?"
"Hm. Uptown, or by the universities."
"Not by the universities."
"Why?"
"It doesn't quiet down at night."
"But I would love to be that close to the park."
"Not the garden district then?"
"Oo, maybe Inge will rent out the carriage house," I tease.
"That's an idea, though," he says thoughtfully.
I give him a sharp look. I can't imagine he would want me renting from his grandmother. He'd never visit me, for starters.
"Not hers," he clarifies. "But something similar in that area maybe? It could be nice. Like a little cottage."
"I am excessively fond of a cottage," I say, quoting Jane Austen. That quote has always stuck out to me, despite that it was uttered with a certain snide air on the subject of a mere cottage in general. In point of fact, I am excessively fond of a cottage, and I quite consider Gran's house to fit the bill; more or less rural, not large, and quite cosy. I guess Eric just means the small and the cosy though.
"I am sure your friend Patti would know of anywhere suitable."
Well that's just the limit. "Eric, I find your suggestion helpful but peculiar. I didn't have the impression you were wholly enthusiastic about my striking up a friendship with Patti Parker."
"Oh, I'm not. More accurately, I am not wholly enthusiastic about her interest in you, and evidently with good reason." I had finally filled him in on the full details of the Hestia scheme on the phone a few days ago. "But equally, if nor more so, I hope you'll settle in a good, safe area, and she might be able to help with that. And we know how much she likes to help."
"It's a thought, I suppose."
"A good one. It is a square peg, square hole situation."
"We'll see," I say. I feel like he's being a little bit contradictory there. Also, he plainly has an opinion on where I live, and I'm not sure if I like that or not. "This isn't like a 'you won't want to visit if I don't choose a classy neighbourhood' thing, is it?" I ask, letting myself sound sceptical. I'm thinking of Bill. Or possibly Robert Ferrars. Come to think of it, there's a bit of similarity there.
He stares at me. "No," he says flatly. "This is an 'I don't want you to be accosted again when you're out after dark' thing."
"Oh," I say, deflating. Oh right. This isn't Bill. This is Eric. I sigh at myself.
"So, the Garden District or parts of Uptown are good. Lakeview too maybe."
"Lakeview is too far and too...housey" I say.
"Housey?" he repeats.
"It's too new and it lacks charm. Too many houses without enough other things. It's like the suburbs."
"I see."
After that he continued to read his hated newspaper. The little huffs and crinkles he made whenever he came across something he disliked were endearing. I was pretty distracted by him. I was going to call Amelia and ask her to recommend me a realtor or a renting agent. We finished our breakfast and I started to gather up my things, moving hastily since it was after ten-thirty now and we had to be out of here PDQ.
Eric took our luggage to my car while I checked out. When I found him in the garage he was already waiting in the passenger seat. I brought us the short drive over to his hotel and once we arrived, he carried the bags for us again.
"You're being particularly boyfriendy today," I observe, once we hit the elevators. We'd stopped at the desk and said hello to Rick and Trudy, who were both on duty that morning. He got a keycard for me when he got a new one for himself. It didn't really feel like a 'key to his place' since of course, it would expire, but as this sort of was his place, it was sort of something. I'd only borrowed his before, when I had to come back here alone from the hospital. He grins down at my remark, shrugging is shoulders. It's just his prerogative I guess.
We arrived at his room and set ourselves up. I'd brought the newspaper with me, so I took it and sat down on one of the couches and left him to get started on whatever it was he had to get started on with his laptop.
"When are you going to lunch?" he asks over his shoulder once we'd been sitting in our respective corners for about twenty minutes.
"Probably another half an hour, why?"
"I need to make some phone calls," he says.
"And they're confidential," I supply.
"Yes."
I grabbed my purse and folded my newspaper into it, and walked over and gave him a peck on the cheek.
"Alright," I say. "How long should I stay away?" I ask.
"I'm sure I'll be done in a couple of hours, for today anyway."
"Okay, I'll call when I'm on my way back then," I suggest.
"That's great, thank you." He kisses me. "I'll see you later." I smile at him and leave. This is not a very practical arrangement. It occurs to me that I should have kept my own room, but our mutual desire to be around each other had won out against the sensible option. I think we're going to need to be a bit more careful about this sort of thing in the future. I don't want him sitting there annoyed that he can't do his work, any more than I want to be straining to find things to do with myself out of earshot whenever he needs to be busy. Today at least, I had something to do. I drove around and looked in at neighbourhoods. I know that drive-bys are a pretty superficial examination, but my rationale was that people who kept their houses looking nice are probably good people to live around. Also it wouldn't hurt to refresh myself on the street names. So that's what I did for about forty minutes until I headed over to Arlene's. I was a little early, but she didn't mind.
Arlene and her husband lived in an area that was broadly considered the Garden District, but their actual neighbourhood was more the outskirts. Their house was a lot more modest than mansions like Inge Northman's. It was still nice, but it was a little newer; built in the style of the larger homes, on a smaller scale. She lived on a cute little street full of cute little homes of the same mode. Arlene's husband, Whit, did something in banking. She did not work outside the home. Amelia had always thought this was absurd, since she was college educated. I reserved my judgment. Some people are just traditional. Her husband could afford their style of living, and this is what they wanted, and real soon she'd have a child to tend as well as their house (which incidentally, was spick-and-span inside and out).
After hugs and kisses we sat down to the fairly elaborate lunch she's prepared. She started right in telling me all about this mommy blog she'd been reading and that the chicken dish as well as the bulgur wheat salad we were enjoying were recipes she'd gotten from it.
"How's Whit settling into the idea of fatherhood?" I ask her, after a lapse.
"I don't think he's quite there yet. He's still real surprised whenever he notices or is reminded, but then he's immediately sweet about it. He's reading one of the books," she ends with a small smile.
"I think I've heard it said that it doesn't hit a lot of men until the baby actually gets here."
"It'll hit him long before then I think. Maybe literally if I turn around too quick! I'm really starting to show now, I guess. They say that's normal. I'm at eighteen weeks."
"Is that the normal time that it starts to show?"
"I think it's a little different for everyone. My hips are already big, so, maybe I held off longer than some." I roll my eyes at her when she says this. Arlene can't be bigger than a size six on a bad day. I'm the size ten in the room, thank you.
"My brother's having a baby," I confide. "They're getting married on the Fourth of July."
"Oh that's wonderful!" she squeals. The nice part is that I know she's truly excited for people who are more or less perfect strangers to her.
"Is she online, his wife? I can tell her all the good things to read."
I grin, and promise her I'll give Crystal her contact info, but with a warning that I'm not sure how active she is online, and not to be offended if she doesn't get in touch. Plus, she's mainly focusing on the wedding right now.
"And you're going to be a bridesmaid again?" she asks. I'd been a bridesmaid in her wedding to Whit, along with Tara, Amelia, and three other girls. She'd had the big white wedding with the big wedding party and all the hoopla. They'd gone the whole hog. I suppose you could say Crystal and Jason were too, if they went ahead with the pig roast idea. We chatted about the wedding, and how it was going to be a pretty down-home affair. She asked me, in a way that she probably considered very tactful, if I'd be okay not having a date.
"Oh," I say laughing, "I'll have a date, don't worry about me." And then I immediately wish I hadn't said that, because now she's going to prod about Eric, and if it gets back to Tara, that could be bad. But mustn't she already know? I mean David's seen me with Eric twice now, and the second time at the funeral could definitely not be excused by me just being a 'friend in town visiting'. Oh dear. I should probably ask Eric about this.
"Really? You're dating again already?"
"I am," I say smiling. I can feel that I'm pinking up. Please, please, take it for my being bashful and not flustered. "But it's progressing slowly, so don't ask me anything. Suffice to say, he's a dreamboat."
"Ooo a dreamboat is he?"
"Oh yes. Also a hunk. And maybe a cutie-pie. Most of the time."
"Aw, Sookie, I'm glad. We were so worried about you," she says with real concern.
"Well, don't be. For the first time in, even before the break up I guess, everything in my world is good, good, good," I smile at her. She gets up and gives me a hug, and I hug her back.
After that we started talking about the new job and where I was going to live. She had all sorts of ideas about that, but when I told her I was going to rent, not buy, she came up a lot shorter. She called her realtor's office while I was there to ask if they did anything with rentals. They didn't, but I thanked her just the same, for trying. She brought out her baby name book after we'd cleared the lunch dishes, and I was quite amused to see that she had it annotated with coloured tabs and sticky notes in blue, pink, and yellow. After five minutes spent comparing the virtues of Aidin, Aedyn, and Aydan, I finally admitted that I didn't care for the name, at which point she agreed and removed all the notes and the blue paperclip that had marked the page. She didn't really care for it either, she declared. I was amused.
I was happy to linger and see her plans for the nursery and view the latest sonogram and hear about Whit's horrible secretary and her prenatal pilates class. By four-thirty though, we were back in the kitchen and she was ready to get started on dinner so I knew it was time to go. We agreed to not go so long without seeing each other and I promised to call her when I was in town next week. I left to my car but called Amelia to see if she had a recommendation for someone to help me find an apartment, while it was fresh in my mind. She gave me two numbers immediately, assuring me that they were both women she'd dealt with personally. One of them was from her WE group. I didn't want to sit in Arlene's driveway, so I said goodbye and drove back to the hotel. I called the ladies that Amelia had referenced but only one of them was able to meet with me tomorrow, so I set the appointment. I might as well get started. Then I called Eric and let him know that I was downstairs, and he said to come up. He met me at the door.
"How was lunch?" he asks, giving me a kiss.
"It was nice. She's got the whole housewife thing down, it's kind of mesmerizing."
"Interesting vocation. I thought she went to school with you?" Yeah, Eric and Amelia are going to get along famously.
"She did, history major. She toed the line with her GPA too, but she just likes being a wife and being married and tending to her man and such. She's eager to be a mommy."
"Hm," he says, and his expression reads as though the idea of being content in that life is utterly incomprehensible to him.
"Well, it's alright for some," I shrug.
"It will be good for her children," he allows.
"Oh yeah, she'll be a fabulous mom. I've got all sorts of stuff to feed to Crystal on the subject," I say, holding up my phone and giving it a little wiggle. I'd used my new notepad app to record the various books and articles that Arlene had recommended.
"I'm sorry for chasing you out earlier," he says. "I realized about ten minutes after you left that it was rude."
"It was fine, I had things to keep me busy, but, yes, we didn't really think that through. I should have just brought you straight here from the airport and gone back to my room."
"I wouldn't go that far."
"Maybe not. At the risk of offending you, I don't particularly want to stay here when you're working in future, and I don't think you want me here either."
"It's not that I don't want you here," he says quickly.
"Right, but you can't work when I'm here, and you need to work right now. Don't worry, I get it," I say, giving his chest an affectionate little pat. "But actually, speaking of things that people can't say in front of people..."
I glance at him to make sure I have his attention. I do. "Do you know what the deal is with David and Tara? I don't know if you talk to him like that, but I've been avoiding her for weeks now. The only time I've talked to her was when she called after I got hurt and it was brief. Do they know that you know that they planned to undermine you in the merger? Because I didn't want to tell Arlene that I was dating you in case it got back to Tara but then David already knows about us and I just don't know if I should tell her, if she'll know I told you about what she said and then maybe they'll change their plans to screw you over even worse," I finish. I'd gotten progressively more agitated throughout that little speech.
He could see it. He puts his hands on my shoulders. "Breathe," he orders. I take a deep breath, as instructed. "Please feel free to tell your friends you are dating me. I've met Tara. She joined David and I for a lunch a couple of weeks ago."
"You've met Tara? Why didn't you say anything? So she already knows I'm seeing you? Does she know I told you?"
"She knows we're seeing each other, yes. I don't know why I didn't mention it, it just didn't come up. Do you normally talk to her a lot?"
"No, not really. I probably would have called her to tell her about my job and that I'm looking for an apartment down here now though, since I know she is too. She called once since that last time I spoke to her, and I missed it because I was teaching, but I didn't call her back."
"Well, she's probably very busy with work too."
"Probably," I scoff. "Busy trying to do devious business in your general direction."
"Something like that, I'm sure," he chuckles.
"I'm not really missing her to be honest. I was pretty put off by that whole thing. And then I haven't wanted to talk to her also because I know she's getting fired."
"Well, perhaps she won't now."
"What do you mean?"
"It's only Pam and I who are aware of her indiscretion. We won't be there anymore. So if she were to get fired, or downsized, or however you'd like to say it, at some time in the future, it has nothing to do with what she disclosed or what you told."
I breathed out a sigh, and realized it was a sigh of relief. "That actually makes me feel a little better about the whole thing."
"I'm sure once it's all over you'll strike back up with her. You are... how is it? Sisters for life?" he adds a bit of his mocking tone at the end.
"That sounds like we're zealous antiabortionists when you say it like that."
"Are you pro-life?" he asks.
Rapid subject change there. I pause for a moment before saying, "I don't think I could ever do that, but that would be my choice."
He nods. "That's good."
"You?" I ask. After his night of drunken ramblings I was pretty sure I knew the answer, but I might as well confirm.
"The same, about the choice."
"Well, distraction accomplished. Well done," I say, breathing out the rest of my tension on the whole subject of Tara.
"It's a skill I have. So, what shall we do tonight?"
"I don't know, I'm meeting with the rental agent tomorrow morning, so nothing too late."
"That's fine, I have a conference call in the morning anyway, and then at some point Pam is coming in. Maybe you can have lunch with her before you go over to Cataliades."
"That would be nice," I agree. "Tonight though?"
"I don't know. Do you feel like going out?"
"Sure. Nowhere too fancy though," I clarify.
We ended up at a little café in the French Quarter that was garishly decorated in an explosion of chintz and extreme floridity. I ordered a sandwich and Eric ordered a three course meal. He'd skipped lunch. We found ourselves continuing on in the same bent as our earlier impromptu pro-life/pro-choice conversation. That is, a talk of more substance.
I learned that he was registered to vote as an independent, and had nothing nice to say about any of the political parties. He claimed to be an agnostic, because he said God wasn't something he was really raised with, nor ever really thought about. He listened with interest when I talked about my faith, and wasn't condescending. He was a fan of Ayn Rand's, which didn't exactly surprise me. He clarified that it was more in the sense of 'wouldn't it be nice if the world worked this way, but it doesn't.' He read a lot of popular mysteries and crime novels. He had never had a pet. He supported gay marriage. He didn't own a gun. He always carried a penknife. I asked him to show me, and handed over a slim little Swiss Army Knife. I asked him why he carried it, and he just shrugged and said it was always useful, and then took it back.
It was nice to be able to discuss some deeper more important things, and nicer still to find nothing really objectionable in the conversation. He said nothing to offend, and nothing that I had to tell myself I could just ignore. We were alike in some ways and different in others. The way he talked about his views and convictions was pleasing. He was thoughtful. He gave things their due consideration. It was a good to have the tête-à-tête. It made me like him all the more. Part of me said this was perilous, that I should strive to keep it light and not get too attached to him. I told that part of me to shut up. I was enjoying myself and enjoying him, and that was fine.
The next day I met with my rental agent who was extremely tall for a woman, and gorgeous with a winning smile, dark hair and dark eyes. She introduced herself as Claudine Crane. She gave me her business card with her picture on it. It looked like the photograph could have been taken today. She was friendly and she brought me coffee. We settled down to chatting for almost an hour about what I was looking for, where I was looking, what I could afford, why I was moving, what I liked about New Orleans, what my plans for the future were. I felt like it was a good approach. She was getting to know me, and that would help her to find the right place for me.
I found myself signing a contract with her without any hesitation. I'd pay her commission, which would be equal to my firth month's rent. She pulled up a few listings to show me and was patient as I told her what I liked and didn't like. I mentioned Eric's idea of a guest house or a carriage house, and she agreed that would be just darling. I was open to the idea of a small house or an apartment in a house, provided it had its own entry and parking, or a duplex. Anything renovated would be great, but I wasn't really interested in living in some box in some big new building. She made extensive notes on her little tablet. She showed me the spreadsheet she worked with. It rated features that I had to have, would like to have, definitely didn't want, or was indifferent to. She was very pleased with me for being a non-smoker who didn't own a dog or a cat. That would apparently make her work a lot easier.
We made an appointment to visit places the following Monday at noon. She explained that this time was optimal because it would give her a chance to go through any new listings from the weekend, and that's when a lot of new listings came out. I told her I was quite appetent about being situated down here, and she nodded her understanding. She liked that too, naturally. Finding me a place quickly would put money in her pocket all the faster. I was a little taken aback when I realized that she was not personally fond of Amelia.
"Don't get me wrong, her properties are excellent," she said hurriedly. "My tenants have been only too pleased."
"She recommended you very highly," I said awkwardly.
"Yes, she would do," she said coolly. It was the least friendly thing I'd heard her say, so I tried to get off the topic quickly.
I was there for a long while before returning to the hotel. Eric was dressing and talking on the phone when I got back so I gave him a little wave and closed the door to the bedroom to give him privacy.
"No, four weeks. I don't care. This is exactly what we planned at a quicker pace. There is no reason this can't happen but your dragging your feet. Stop being a coward and stand up to him."
That's all I caught. I regretted hearing it, and tried not to think about it. It sounded like he was intimidating someone. Right, trying not to think about it. Eric emerged a few minutes later looking foxy as usual. He gave a jaunty turn and I got up and pretended to inspect him. Hey, I wasn't going to turn down the chance to check out his posterior up close. He left not long after and I called down to leave a message for Pam to call me when she got in. She did one better, arriving at Eric's suite half an hour later. Despite her usual immaculate appearance, she complained of feeling haggard and careworn. We headed down to pep her up with a light lunch around the corner.
"You are heading home tonight?" she asks. We'd gotten our drinks and were just waiting on our food. We both had iced tea. Mine was sweet and hers was Long Island.
"Hm. I guess I am. I'm out of clothes," I grin.
"You should pack more," she observes. "So, you meet with your lawyer when?"
Checking my cell phone I say, "About ninety minutes. I'll walk back with you after this and get my car."
"Then here is to you, and to moving forward," she says, lifting her glass to me and taking a long draught. "Oh, that's dangerously tasty," she says, breathing a sigh.
I smirk. "I'll have something tonight."
I sat there for a moment pondering my drink and then looked over at Pam. She wore a cream coloured blouse and a smooth taupe skirt. Her hair was pulled up elegantly to show off diamond earrings and a chic gold pendant. She wore what I knew to be a watch, but which more resembled a braided bracelet.
"Pam, you know a little about jewellery, yes?"
"I suppose, since I buy my own. Why?"
I reached into my purse and pulled out the ring box. I'd brought it with me since I was going to the lawyer's office. I didn't know if they would want to see it. I had the original deed and Bill's letter with me too.
Setting the box on the table I asked, "Any idea what I can do with this?"
She picked it up and opened it without any fanfare. "I suppose you're looking for a real answer, not something snappy like 'fund a coup in a small third world country,'" she says, removing the ring from its box to get a better look.
"I appreciate your snappy remarks very much, but yes, I'm looking for a real answer."
"Have you had it appraised?"
"No. I don't know where to go, I was going to go with Amelia but she is busy with dating."
"Oh yes, I just hate when people are busy with dating. Like when they take phone calls from their girlfriends instead of going to meetings, or disappear to some love shack in the boondocks for days on end," she starts, smirking.
"Pam," I try to interrupt but she is undeterred.
"Or have weekday sleepovers, or don't answer urgent emails because they're having shower sex..."
"You know way too much about our private life," I say flatly.
"Yes. Yes I do," she pauses then puts the ring back in its box and moves it back over to me. "Put that away," she scolds. She picks up her phone again and starts thumbing it furiously. "There, I've sent you the place I used when I had to have an antique ring resized. They can do an appraisal for you. I'm not sure if they buy stones, but likely they can point you in the right direction."
I hear my phone chime in confirmation that she's sent me the contact. I shake my head in astonishment. "How do you just have these contacts for everything?"
"It's called the internet, Sookie. I think you have a copy in there," she nods toward my phone.
"Oh really?" I ask, flush with sarcasm. "No, I just meant, I wouldn't have known which jeweller to choose, you just seem to have a go-to for everything."
"It's both my nature and my job," she shrugs.
"Thanks then, I'll call them."
Our lunchtime palaver consisted mainly of her sharp-tongued vilifying of every person she had interacted with throughout her morning of travel. She really seemed to have something against stewardesses. I felt like that might be a direct result of her travelling with Eric fairly often. He seemed to command their attention to the exclusion of others. We leave the restaurant and walk back toward the hotel. She gives me a rather awkward pat on the shoulder before we part ways.
"Let us assume I have said something encouraging and supportive. Good luck."
I chuckle at that. "Thanks, Pam."
I arrive at the office of Desmond Cataliades and the receptionist greets me with a warm smile, offering me coffee or tea which I decline. Shortly after, I am lead into a dark, panelled office replete with a large desk, two leather guest chairs, and an entire wall full of law books. There was even one of those brass lamps with a green glass shade sitting on the desk. Mr. Cataliades stands and comes out behind his desk to shake my hand. He is a round man, about six foot and balding. His eyes were large and round as well, and despite the comfortable temperature in here, he seems to be perspiring slightly. His appearance does not really match his warm and sonorous voice. He wipes his hands with his handkerchief before offering one to me to shake. When I do, he clasps over my right hand with his left.
"It is a pleasure to meet you in person, Miss Stackhouse."
"And you, Mister Cataliades."
"Have a seat," he offers, releasing me and gesturing.
"We're just waiting for Simon Maimonides to arrive. I wanted to warn you that he will be accompanied by Lorena Ball, since Mister Compton himself obviously may not be present."
"I'm sorry?" I ask, tensing instantly.
"They wish to have their own witness to the signing of the documents."
I breathe out a heavy sigh. "I want to refuse to be in the same room as her."
The lawyer simply folds his hands in front of him. "Certainly you may. They will be inconvenienced, but it is they who are seeking this resolution. I am sure they would be willing to return another day."
"No. Let's just get this over with. She's not going to say anything to me in front of you or the other lawyer, right?"
"Were she my client, I would have advised her to remain silent."
We sat there and he explained to me what to expect in the meeting. I just had to listen and sign. We'd already been over the particulars. I heard all he said, but I was mostly just trying to steel myself for a confrontation I was absolutely not looking forward to. Mr. Cataliades knew exactly why, so once he finished, he was content to just leave me in silence for a few minutes until his receptionist buzzed in to let us know that the other party had arrived. He asked me if I was ready and I nodded, and followed him out of his office and through a corridor to a large room with a large table and many chairs positioned around it.
Lorena was seated. She was dressed in a dark suit with her hair upswept. Her face was made up and she wore jewellery. I would have said she looked like Pam, strikingly lovely and spotlessly assembled, except that the truculent expression that fixed to her face the second she saw me spoiled the whole effect. She looked mean and ugly and if someone could kill with a glare, I'd have been dead where I stood. I shifted my gaze away and struggled to keep my eyes on my lawyer and Bill's. The notary was also present, but she kept her eyes down the entire time. She was just here to listen and affix her little stamp.
We all five sat down, and there was some showing of presenting folders with documents between the lawyers. After that, it was a simple matter of exchanging the documents. I signed, Cataliades signed, Maimonides signed, and Lorena signed, the settlement forms, the affidavit. The settlement forms already bore Bill's signature. It was incredibly quick. And after that, I was presented with three separate bank cheques. One for my medical bills, one for ten thousand dollars, and one for twenty-two thousand six hundred dollars and thirty-eight cents; all the rent that I'd paid for our apartment for the past two years. Everyone stood, and the lawyers shook hands, and that was it. I poured myself a glass of water from the pitcher which had been thoughtfully placed on the table. Mr. Cataliades left to walk them out, and I stayed put.
"Are you well, Miss Stackhouse?" he asked kindly, upon his return.
"I am, Mister Cataliades, thank you," I assured him.
"You can feel free to take a few minutes if you like. I'm pleased I could help bring this matter to conclusion. I'm afraid I need to prepare for my next appointment."
"Thank you again, Mister Cataliades."
"Not at all, Miss Stackhouse."
He left me alone then, and I took a few more minutes to simply sit. I looked up the closest branch of my bank and left his office determined to make that my first stop. Of course, that had all been too easy, and of course, Lorena was waiting around in the little parking lot when I arrived. Simon Maimonides was nowhere to be seen. Of course. I saw her, but I ignored her. I walked toward my car, but she was in my proximity in a blink.
"Are you pleased with the prizes you won for his pity?" she sneered.
I said nothing, focusing my attention almost entirely on making sure the key to my car door was ready in my hand.
"You should have married him. Then you could have taken him for millions," she continues. "But I suppose that chicken feed we bought you off with is more money than a white trash little whore like you has ever seen."
"Excuse me," I said through gritted teeth. She'd gotten in front of me, blocking my way. She was trying to demand some response.
"He was with me the whole time, you know that?" Yes I do, I've heard it all before, thanks.
"I do. I hope you two will stay together for a long time now. Believe me when I say that you two deserve each other."
"I had him first. You didn't even know that, did you?" she demands. Thank you, Eric. Nothing she can say will shock me. "And I'll have him last," she proclaims, thrusting her left hand in front of my face. She wore an engagement ring. I found myself not caring if it was new or old.
I glanced at it, then up at her. "It's not as large as the one he bought for me," I say coolly. "Does yours say 'my one and only' too?"
"Bitch!" she hisses in outrage.
I shouldered past her. I guess it did. How unoriginal, Bill.
"I'm his wife. I've always been his wife. You are just some greedy little slut," she says to my retreating back.
I turned. "You divorced him while he was struggling with his start up and didn't turn up again until he'd sold it for a mint. Who's the greedy little slut here, Lorena?" That's right you cow. You're not the only one who's had a history lesson.
She looked like she was ready to launch herself at me so I quickly moved away from her and got in my car, slamming home the door lock. I didn't take time to buckle my seatbelt before I backed out of the space. I spared a look in my rear view mirror and caught the livid expression still painted on her face before I turned away. I breathed out. Good riddance. I drove to the bank and made my deposits. I returned to the hotel and packed my things. Eric wasn't there and neither was Pam.
I called him to let him know I was heading out. He wanted to know how the meeting went, and I told him. I told him that Lorena was there, and that she was nasty, but I didn't go into the details. He asked when I'd be back, and I told him I didn't need to be in town again until Monday. He suggested I just stay, but I hesitated.
"We need to figure this out, with the time we're spending together. I'm real fond of you, but like we said, my staying here as your guest while you need to be working twelve hours a day and I'm not is not a great option."
"Yeah. I know. You're right," he agrees. "Though you could do your school work, planning your curriculum. It's not like you have nothing to do with yourself."
"What are you doing this weekend?" I ask him.
"You?"
"Sounds good, I'll see you Saturday then?" I say quickly. This is a compromise I won't mind a bit.
"Alright, call me when you get home."
"I surely will. Go make bold and savvy business moves."
He chuckles. "I'm trying. Bye Sookie."
"Bye," I say, hanging up. I text Pam to let her know I'm leaving and will be back in a couple of days, as well. She likes being in the loop.
Back at home, my mailbox was full of bills and letters stating that my resume had been received. Well boo to you too, schools that didn't call me. I'm taken! I opened them anyway, once I got settled and had started a load of laundry. I sent Eric a text to tell him I was home and I got one back that told me he was still working. I had made the right decision in not staying.
The following day I got down to business about the wedding. To my great surprise, I found someone in Shreveport who was able to make the armadillo groom's cake. The woman I spoke with laughed herself silly when I asked for it. She said she hadn't made one for years, but would love to do another. I'd found her shop online and had seen pictures of some of her other cakes. Some of these people should really market themselves as fondant artists rather than bakers. It's pretty amazing what they can do.
The photographer was trickier. I searched online for photographers in Shreveport, Monroe, and anywhere in between. I looked at sample albums. I ignored any names that came up that didn't have a website. That's a profession where you just ought to have one. It was unprofessional not to, in this day and age. I had about nine tabs open by the time I was done, so I figured I'd try to eliminate some by calling to check their availability for a wedding and a reception out here on the Fourth of July. That brought my list down to three, though one of those warned me he charged a premium for the holiday. I gave myself a pat on the back. I told the ones who were available I'd contact them tonight or tomorrow after I'd consulted with the bride. I sent Crystal a message asking her if I could come by her and Jason's tonight after she got off work to show her the choices. She told me sure and come for dinner. Perfect!
I also called Herveaux and Son, the surveyors, while I was knocking things off my to-do list. The woman I spoke with was brusque but efficient. She asked me when I wanted them to come out for an initial assessment. I told her as soon as possible really, but that Monday and Tuesday were out. She suggested tomorrow and I said that would be just fine, thank you. I took a few minutes to let her know the state of the property. She said she'd leave some notes on the record.
That night, Jason provided me with my day-late celebratory drink to commemorate the official end of Bill. Crystal had one tiny sip of Jason's beer to join us and made a face, disagreeing with the taste. She easily eliminated one of the photographers I had to show her. I liked the tilt-shift shots he had in his album but she said they made everything look like toys. I started to explain that this was the point, but then I stopped myself. I just needed her to make a decision. I did not particularly care which she chose. We ate dinner and I told Jason about seeing the surveyor tomorrow, and that I'd be back in New Orleans for the weekend and the beginning of the week.
"Doncha get tired of that?" Jason asks.
"Tired of what?"
"Driving back and forth all the time."
"Yes," I groan. "I'm already tired of that, but it's not like I have a choice. I have to be there for meetings now. I just hope I can find an apartment next week. I have such high hopes for this rental lady."
"You gonna see about renting out Gran's, once you're settled?"
"I've told you, I want to keep it. I plan to be up here time and again. I like it up here."
"I was just thinking that maybe you changed your mind with all the hassle."
"It's down there where I've still got problems. The only hassle in regards to up here right now is trying to figure out what I'm going to do about the place next door."
"Yeah, that's a pickle. Maybe you could build houses there and sell it off by parts."
"I don't have that kind of money to invest, and even if I did, who would buy them?"
He's got no answer, so he tries something else. "You could set it up for a hunting club? And then sell memberships. There's deer all through those woods."
"I don't think I want strange hunters that close to Gran's." Yes, it was mine, but it would always be Gran's.
"You could build a..."
"Jas I don't have the money to build an anything out there."
"Well, then sell it."
"I guess I could try," I sigh. The thing I'm most afraid of is the tax bill. I still haven't received the bill of sale. I guess I'll have to get it appraised, too. I stared at my now empty beer bottle. "So much for toasting Bill goodbye."
"You'll figure it out, Sook," Jason assures me. I'm glad someone is confident.