Coast, her sister was into healthy eating and treating the body’s ailments with alternatives other than drugs.
Deciding it was worth a shot to try one of Chloe’s methods before resorting to the pills, Laura began the deep-breathing techniques that her sister had shown her. And because she couldn’t bring herself to chant the mantra aloud without feeling like an idiot, she repeated the words silently.
I can feel my heartbeat slowing. I can feel the blood flowing down my arms, to my fingertips. My fingers are growing warmer. I can feel the tension leaving my body. I am relaxed. I am calm.
Continuing the silent chant, she closed her eyes. But the minute she did so, an image of Jackson Hawke filled her mind. She remembered in vivid detail the cut of the charcoal-gray suit he wore, how the blue in his tie was the exact shade of his eyes. Even seated, he had looked tall and forbidding as he’d told her that he now owned the Contessa. And just thinking of Hawke made her head pound even harder.
“So much for natural healing,” she muttered and opened her eyes. Still reluctant to take anything stronger than aspirin, Laura lowered her gaze to the bottom drawer of her desk.
Don’t do it.
Ignoring the voice in her head, Laura pulled open the drawer and stared at her stash of candy. She had banished the forbidden sweets from her sight two weeks ago in her effort to cut her sugar intake and take off the five pounds she’d been carrying on her hips since Halloween. Biting her lower lip, she recalled the promise she had made to herself only three days ago. No more junk food. That meant no cookies. No candy. No ice cream. No milk-chocolate bars with the gooey caramel inside.
Don’t do it, Laura.
Torn, Laura stared at the tempting treats. Her mouth watered. Still she hesitated. She’d promised herself, no sweets unless it was an emergency. Didn’t Jackson Hawke and a monster headache constitute an emergency? Of course they did, she reasoned. Snatching up the bite-sized chocolate-and-caramel bar, she ripped off the wrapper, bit into the decadent treat and moaned.
“Uh-oh.”
Laura opened her eyes and spied Penny standing in the doorway. She popped the remainder of the forbidden chocolate into her mouth and swallowed. Calories or not, she felt better already, Laura decided.
After taking a seat in the chair across from her desk, Penny glanced at the candy wrapper and said, “Since Chef André didn’t walk out like he keeps threatening to do, I’m guessing that guy Hawke is the reason you deep-sixed the new diet. Who is he, Laura? And what did he want?”
Laura gave her assistant a quick rundown of the situation and the stunned look on the other woman’s face mirrored her own feelings when Jackson Hawke had dropped the bombshell on her an hour earlier. But now that some of the shock had started to wear off, she knew she had to figure out a plan to stop Hawke. “I know this is a shock, Penny. It was to me, too. But I need you to keep quiet about this—at least until I can find out exactly what our position is. If word were to get out, it could cause a panic among the staff and I can’t afford that. It’s been difficult enough getting workers since Hurricane Katrina,” she said, referring to the storm that had nearly destroyed New Orleans in 2005. Not only had the city lost more than half of its population, but the destruction had claimed entire neighborhoods and depleted the workforce. “And any buzz in the marketplace about management changes could set off a run of cancellations, not to mention that we’d probably lose out on any contracts.”
“I won’t breathe a word,” Penny assured her. She paused, worry clouding her brown eyes. “But what if what this guy Hawke says is true? What if he really does own the hotel? Do I need to start looking for another job?”
“Hawke didn’t strike me as a stupid man. Regardless of what happens, he’ll need someone who knows about the day-to-day operations of the hotel, where and who to go to for the emergencies that pop up. And that person is you. I don’t think you need to worry about your job, Penny.”
But her assistant’s concern made her realize that if Hawke did take over the hotel, Laura would need to do everything she could to ensure the job security of her employees. It was what her grandfather would have done, what he would have wanted her to do. If only her grandfather were here now, she thought.
“What about you? If Hawke is telling the truth, what will you do?”
“I don’t know,” Laura told her honestly. She thought about her childhood, of moving to new places each time her mother married and started a new life. But come summer, she had always returned to New Orleans, to her grandfather, to the Contessa. Even when she’d gone away to college and then had gone to work for other hotels out of state, she had known that the Contessa was still there, waiting for the day when she would return home for good. Only now when she had finally come back, her grandfather was gone. And Jackson Hawke was here, trying to take the Contessa from her. She wouldn’t let him.
She couldn’t. She looked at her assistant. “But I can tell you what I’m not going to do and that’s roll over and play dead. Try Benton’s office again, then get my attorney, my mother and my sister on the phone for me.”
If Jackson Hawke wanted her hotel, then he was darn well going to have to fight her for it.
Two
So far, she’d struck out. Sighing, Laura put down her pen and stretched her arms above her head. She still hadn’t spoken with her attorney or her sister. And her conversation with Benton had not gone well at all. She still couldn’t believe her mother had actually used the Contessa as collateral on a loan and not told her. Benton hadn’t given her much in the way of details. Instead he’d referred her to her mother. Unfortunately, the time difference and distance between New Orleans and France had made reaching her mother difficult. Glancing at the clock, she calculated the time overseas and concluded it was now after two o’clock in the morning in France. Aware of her mother’s love of the night life, Laura tried the number again.
“Oui,” her mother answered on the fourth ring, her voice breathless.
“Mother, it’s Laura.”
“Laurie, darling,” she replied, genuine pleasure in her voice. “Philippe, it’s Laurie calling from America.”
She could hear Philippe shout out a greeting from the background and Laura made the obligatory hello to her mother to give to him. “Mother? Mother?” Laura pressed when her mother began to converse with Philippe in French.
“I’m sorry, darling. Philippe wanted me to tell you how well things are going here with the new club and to see when you can come for a visit. He’s eager to show it off to you and Chloe.” Without waiting for her to answer, her mother went on, “Do you think you girls could come? Why, it’s been nearly a year since I’ve seen you, Laurie. And it would be so lovely to have my babies here for a visit. We could…”
Laura closed her eyes a moment as her mother rambled. She didn’t bother trying to explain to her that at twenty-six and twenty-two, she and Chloe could hardly be considered babies. Finally, she said, “Mother, please. This is important. I need to know if you used your stock in the Contessa as collateral for a bank loan.”
For a long moment, her mother was silent. Then she said, “It was just as a formality. A guarantee, until I paid back the loan.”
Telling herself not to panic, that not even her mother could have spent all that money so quickly, she asked, “How much of the money do you have left?”
At
