“Thank you for statin’ the obvious.” I drag my hands down my face and gesture to the core of my problem. “What do I do?”
Étienne leans back in his chair and laces his hands behind his head. “I think the answer is obvious. You do the right thing and help Pleas’s sister. This would be a perfect project.”
My blood runs cold at the very thought. “No, no, no. Absolutely not,” I immediately reply.
“And why not?”
“I think we both know why not. Rainey isn’t a project. She’s a livin’, breathin’ nightmare. I prefer all body parts to remain intact. And if the first two reasons will not suffice, I’m not a governess.”
Étienne gestures to the will and arches a brow. “Oh, but it seems as if you are.”
“Rainey is an adult. She’s free to do as she pleases.”
“Did you tell her that?”
I surge out of the chair and begin to pace. “No. Naturally, I allowed her to believe the will is set in stone.”
“Naturally,” Étienne repeats.
“I can’t help myself. She was furious.” I fling my hand in the air. “It’s entirely too easy to get beneath her skin when she gets that way.”
Étienne gives me a hard look. “Some might say the same for yourself.”
Ignoring the last bit, I walk back to his desk and sit back down. A powerful headache pounds against the base of my skull, and I rub my temples. We are not making the progress I thought we would.
“What’s the real reason you don’t want to do this?” Étienne asks.
I take a deep breath and contemplate whether I should tell my brother the truth. The very last thing I need right now is to have a ward. Especially if that ward is Rainey Pleasonton. She is the very opposite of pleasant.
If someone were to cut me open, they would see how black and unsalvageable my soul is. It has seen too much. It is beginning to rot, and it’s only a matter of time before nothing’s left. When that happens, I’ll celebrate the occasion with some Old Fitzgerald.
“Livingston?” Étienne prods, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I think of a reply on the spot but am saved by a loud knock on the door. Étienne and I turn in time to see my sister-in-law open the door and then slam it loudly. She shoots it an annoyed look and waddles over to us.
“Question, Étienne. How big of a baby were you?” she asks.
He eyes her warily. “I’m not certain. Why do you ask?”
“Because I’m convinced this child is going to be a beast master.”
Serene places a hand on her lower back as she slowly sits down. She closes her eyes and sighs with relief once she makes herself comfortable. She looks at me from the corner of her eye. “What’s the matter, Livingston? Never seen a person sit in a chair?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ve simply never heard that much noise come out of one person while they’re sittin’.”
“Well, imagine carrying a baby who thinks your internal organs can be made into balloon animals.”
`“I don’t know what balloon animals are, but since you said it, it probably isn’t an appropriate conversation to have in public.”
“Is it appropriate to have a human being use your ribs as a jungle gym?” Serene retorts.
When I look at my brother, he subtly shakes his head. I’ve heard of women becoming … uncomfortable during their pregnancy and especially during the end. However, Serene appears as if she wants to tear my head off, then place it on the tip of a stake so she can roast it over a burning fire and feast on it for dinner.
After a few seconds, Serene takes another deep breath and lifts her head, staring at Étienne and me. She smiles, and it’s as though she didn’t snarl at me like a rabid dog seconds ago.
“What are you two talking about?” Serene asks.
“This.” Étienne holds the paper out for Serene. She scans the document, and a frown causes her brows to crease.
She glances back and forth between Étienne and me. “What’s this mumbo jumbo bullshit?”
“This is Pleas’s will. Rainey has a dowry and sixty days to find a husband. Oh, did I also mention I was the executor of her dowry?”
Her brows nearly lift to her hairline. “You are? Oh, poor Rainey.”
“Poor Rainey? Poor Rainey? Where’s your loyalty?”
Serene scoffs and hands the will back to Étienne before she begins rubbing her belly. “You know I’m loyal, but it’s fascinating to me how you can charm everyone in Charleston. Hell, you can sell ice to an Eskimo. The only person you can’t charm is Miss Rainey. Speakin’ of my favorite Southern belle, I heard she shot you in the ass.”
“She told you?” I say.
At the same time, Étienne says, “What?”
Serene looks at her husband. “Rainey walked in on Livingston doing it with some chick and shot him in the ass with a bow and arrow because she was pissed at him. She didn’t elaborate on why. I just assumed Livingston did something to tick her off because he’s, well … Livingston.”
“This was recent?” Étienne asks.
She nods.
Étienne rises from his chair and gives me a quick once-over before he sits back down. “For bein’ shot in the buttocks, he’s sittin’ remarkably well.”
The two of them converse about me as though I’m not there. Finally, I lift my hand, and they look over at me impatiently. “She did not shoot me in the ass, as Serene so eloquently put it.” I pause. “She almost did.”
Étienne arches a brow. “How many times must you learn to never turn your back on Rainey Pleasonton?”
“Obviously more than once,” Serene quips.
“I do not care for the two of you very much right now.”
Étienne stops chuckling long enough to focus on the will and slip on his glasses. “Ah, Livingston. You know we’re jestin’. Where is your sense of humor?”
Somewhere in France. Lost in a trench with my soul.
Instead, I smile tersely. “Forgive me. I have more pressin’ matters that need tendin’ to.”
“Very well. Let us have a thorough look, shall we?”
Étienne scarcely has his eyes on the first page before shrieking coming from the hallway drifts into the room.
“Miss Alex! Miss Alex, no!” someone cries.
The three of us turn in time to see the door fly open and a five-year-old come running into the room. Curly, dark red hair drawn back by a pink ribbon is all I see at first. Then a flash of more pink with white-capped sleeves. My niece finally stops running and stands in front of me, holding her arms out. Her hands are always sticky, she has a slight lisp, and for such a small thing, she has an unbelievably loud wail. But she has captivating almond-shaped green eyes heavily fringed with black lashes.
It was one thing Alex inherited from Étienne. Everything else was thanks to Serene.
I pick her up and place her on my lap. She laughs, and it’s a soothing moment when I forget that Rainey Pleasonton is now my responsibility.
“Okay. Let me down,” Alex says.
I follow her request, holding her out in front of me. But as I lower her to the floor, I misjudge the distance, and Alex kicks her feet, promptly hitting me between the legs.