A Lasting Impression (27 page)

“Let’s review the rules to make sure everyone understands the goal of the game. . . .”

Pistol in hand, Sutton listened to Claire address the crowd. Lovely in her gray dress, she stood on the top step in front of the mansion, her honey-autumn curls swept up and shining in the sun. An almost palpable excitement infused the warm September afternoon and a perfect breeze accompanied a cloudless blue.

Boys and girls pressed close on the lower stairs, already grouped in their opposing teams. They whispered to each other, smiles wide. Parents gathered in a group behind them wearing looks of youthful anticipation. Even Adelicia, dressed in a deep plum dress Sutton couldn’t remember seeing before, appeared as though she wished she, too, could take part in the hunt.

“Remember, you must stay on course and go only where clues tell you to go.” Claire seemed as excited as the children. “Just because the girls’ team finds a clue in one spot doesn’t mean the boys will also find one there. And some of the clues may be more difficult to decipher than others. That’s especially true”—she glanced in Sutton’s direction, tilting her head knowingly—“of the clues that rhyme.”

He smiled, enjoying the private joke, and the opportunity just to look at her. He’d considered her pretty the first time they’d met, even with her hair mussed and her dress wrinkled. And her beauty had only deepened the more he’d gotten to know her. He’d enjoyed writing and hiding the clues with her last night. How long had it been since he’d laughed like that? He couldn’t remember.

Then there’d been those moments in the art gallery. . . .

That fraction of a heartbeat when he’d partially lost his mind and had actually contemplated taking the woman in his arms and
kissing her
! He’d imagined cradling her cheek and tasting the wine from those full pink lips. He’d quickly come to his senses, of course, and knew he needed to get a rein on himself. And still did, apparently.

He took a deep breath and exhaled.

He and Claire were colleagues.
Friendly
colleagues who shared a good working relationship. And playful banter. And who could talk at length about many different subjects. But that was all. Claire had never given him any indication that she felt anything more than friendship for him. So he’d figured—up until last night—that the spirited back-and-forth between them was safe enough. But his surprising inclination toward her in the gallery was making him think otherwise.

He needed to tell her about Cara Netta. That would help things. Yet he hadn’t been able to broach the subject. It was wrong for a man to foster daydreams about a woman when he was in a relationship—whatever that may be—with another.

Cara Netta was kind and good and gracious and sweet, and was from a well-established family whose name opened doors at the merest mention. She was everything a man could want in a wife, and she would arrive at Belmont in a matter of days and would be expecting a proposal. One he still wasn’t prepared to extend.

But he could be, perhaps, if the review board rendered a fair verdict. Or if the case he had formally agreed to work on with Mr. Holbrook proved to be as promising as Holbrook thought.

The alleged incidents of art fraud were more numerous than first estimated, but gathering the necessary evidence would take the investigators time. It seemed like an almost impossible feat right now. Meanwhile, he and Holbrook were deposing clients and slowly building their case, piece by piece. And if they were to take this case to trial and win . . .

It would change everything for him. The financial reward for the firm—and his portion of that—would go a long way to starting a thoroughbred farm.

Pulling his thoughts back, Sutton refocused on Claire, and on the children’s faces as she described the rest of the afternoon’s activities. She’d worked so hard to make this party a success. And the fruits of her labors would go far, he knew, in rebuilding Adelicia’s relationships with begrudging peers. If Adelicia didn’t give Claire the job after all this . . .

He thought of the letter he’d sent to his colleague in New Orleans and felt a twinge of guilt. He quickly reminded himself that Adelicia had requested the query be sent. Still, having sent that query and now growing closer to Claire as he was made him feel like he was being dishonest with her somehow. Even though he knew he was only doing his job.

He was convinced she hadn’t known about the art auction. A person couldn’t feign that kind of surprise. Not Claire anyway. She could no more tell a lie than a bird could swim. And even though he believed everything she’d said, he also still believed she was hiding something. But he’d finally come to the conclusion it couldn’t be of huge consequence.

Because he’d seen her sincerity. He’d
felt
it.

“All right, everyone! I’ve already given each team a hint as to where your first clues are hidden, so—”

Excited chatter rose from the youth, and Claire raised her hands to regain their attention. The chatter lowered to a simmering thrum.

“So when the signal sounds”—she looked back at Sutton—“that will be your cue to start. The first team to gather
all
their clues and meet back here at the stairs is the winner, and each member of the winning team will receive a prize. Now, do you have any questions?”

“Yes, ma’am,” William called out, standing at the head of his team. “What are the girls gonna do when the boys get all of their clues first?” His team members snickered and thumped him on the back.

“We’ll be waitin’ right here on these stairs for you, William Acklen. That’s what we’ll be doin’!” a spunky little blonde retorted, her smile as competitive as it was pretty. Sutton had seen William talking to the girl earlier, and though they were a little young for thoughts about sparkin’, as his grandfather had called it, he’d sensed an interest on the boy’s part.

And the grin William sneaked her way now left no doubt.

Amidst the laughter, Claire glanced at Sutton and nodded. He raised the pistol high.

“On your mark . . .” she shouted.

Sutton cocked the gun. The boys leaned forward, eyes fierce with competition. The girls gripped their skirts, readying to bolt.

“Get set . . .”

Children and parents held a collective breath.

“Go!”

Sutton fired, and off the teams went. Girls in one direction, boys in the other, laughter coming from both.

“And to our remaining guests,” Claire addressed, “we appreciate your attendance today. While our little scavengers are out hunting for their hidden treasures, Mrs. Acklen invites you to enjoy a variety of French pastries she recently discovered on her family’s grand tour of Europe. On the tables to your left”—she gestured—“you’ll find pastries with the name and description of each, as well as the history behind them.
Café au lait
is available at the table by the main fountain. And on behalf of Mrs. Acklen and everyone at Belmont, thank you again for joining us for William’s eleventh birthday celebration.
Bon appétit!
”

Applause rose from the parents, and Sutton smiled. Nervous as she’d been before she’d gotten up there, Claire Laurent looked as if she’d been directing troops all her life. He sidled up beside her. “Well done, Captain.”

She grinned up at him, then turned and made a face that only he could see. “I hope the teams can figure out all the clues. If they can’t, I’m blaming you.”

He laughed. “That’s fine, but I’m pretty sure I can’t go much lower than a corporal.”

“Well, we’ll just see about—”

“Well done, Miss Laurent.”

They both turned to see Adelicia ascending the stairs, young Pauline and Claude racing up beside her. And—much to Sutton’s delight—Adelicia’s mother followed them.

“Mrs. Hayes,” he said, bowing at the waist. “How wonderful to see you again, ma’am.” Little Pauline reached up to him, and he scooped her up in his arms, relishing her little-girl hug.

Mrs. Hayes extended a lace-gloved hand, which Sutton kissed. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Monroe. I wasn’t about to miss my grandson’s eleventh birthday celebration. Especially not after Adelicia’s lengthy description of the pastries, party favors, and games earlier this week. Although, I don’t quite see the purpose behind intentionally setting the girls’ team against the boys’. We all know that a
properly
bred young lady will always allow a boy to win. Any lesser behavior would be considered lacking in etiquette.”

Sutton caught Adelicia’s fleeting frown, and Claire’s less than subtle look of confusion.

“It’s simply a game, Mother dear,” Adelicia said, her smile back in place. “And I dare say, Miss Laurent, that this is a party William and his friends,
and
their parents, will remember for years to come. As will I.”

Her tone was exceptionally gracious, Sutton noted, and the affirmation lighting Claire’s eyes lit something inside him too.

“Thank you, Mrs. Acklen.” Claire curtsied. “I’m happy that you’re pleased.”

“Shall we treat ourselves to refreshments, children?” Adelicia asked.

“I want a
Napoléon
!” Pauline chimed in.

With a quick peck to Pauline’s cheek, Sutton set her down, and off she went. Claude followed, racing her down the steps. Arm in arm, Adelicia and Mrs. Hayes descended in more graceful fashion. Sutton was glad to see his employer in the company of Nashville society again, although he noticed that the guests didn’t exactly flock to her as they once had.

He offered his arm to Claire. “Are
you
ready for a
Napoléon
?”

With waning enthusiasm, she accepted. “Mrs. Hayes doesn’t like the party.”

“That’s not true. She’s simply more . . . old-fashioned in some of her opinions. But I can tell you from having known the woman for years that she was impressed with what you’ve done today. And with her daughter . . . for hiring you.”

“At least temporarily.” Claire gave him a deflated smile.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he covered her hand on his arm. “Don’t let that one comment ruin the day. All right?” He playfully tweaked her chin, glad when her smile blossomed again.

“Thank you, Sutton.”

“Oh, Miss Laurent! May we speak with you?”

“Do you hire out for parties?”

Seeing a hoard of purposeful mothers heading their way, Sutton made his exit, knowing Claire could manage them without his assistance. Visiting with guests, he feasted on pastries that took him back to the streets and the delectable bakeries of Paris.

Claire joined him about an hour later and they sat inside a gazebo, grinning along with the parents as they watched the boys and girls dart from statue to building, then building to statue, then back to the low-hanging magnolia branches.

For most of the hunt it seemed the teams were neck and neck—until he spotted the girls heading for the icehouse.

“Uh-oh,” he whispered beneath his breath, then looked over to see Claire beaming. “Claire Laurent, how can you be responsible for William’s party and yet want his team to lose? It’s his birthday!” He checked to make sure Mrs. Hayes wasn’t nearby. “Besides, it’s completely lacking in etiquette.”

She gave him a look. “I never said I wanted the girls to win. Out loud, anyway.”

He shook his head. She and Adelicia were cut from the same cloth. A breeze stirred a curl at her temple, and he smiled to himself, thinking of what she’d arranged for the members of the winning team. Even the weather was cooperating according to the woman’s plan. “I meant to ask you. How did you come up with this game?”

She lifted her chin. “I thought of it. All by myself.” She looked down her pert little nose at him. “With no thanks to you, kind sir.”

Sutton eyed her. The snippy little—

“I got the idea from Zeke.”

He frowned, not following. “Zeke gave you the idea?”

She nodded, sipping her coffee. “I saw him one morning digging in the dirt. He was so intent on his task and having such fun. He’d found a nickel and some spent shells. Then later, I thought of Zeke again and began thinking of how much fun it might be for William and his friends to . . . What?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you smiling?”

Sutton looked at her, finding a satisfaction in her answer that he wasn’t about to explain. “No reason, I just—”

She reached over and grabbed his arm. “The girls are leaving the icehouse,” she whispered. “But here come the boys!”

Sure enough, Sutton looked up to see William leading the pack, running full out. The boys crowded into the icehouse and couldn’t have been inside more than thirty seconds before they barreled back out, headed straight for the bowling alley. “So much for the clues that rhyme being harder to decipher.”

The boys made a dash for their last destination, covering ground much faster than the girls, who were just reaching the steps of the bowling alley.

Sutton stood. “It’s going to be close.”

“Very close.” Claire rose too and started toward the mansion. Sutton followed.

Several of the parents began moving back in that direction as well.

Not three minutes later, the girls’ team burst through the doors of the bowling alley, decorum and propriety tossed to the wind, skirts hitched knee-high and hair ribbons flying. They raced back across the lawn, glancing over their shoulders and squealing the second they spotted the boys fast on their trail.

Sutton had never seen anything like it, and was certain Belmont hadn’t either. He looked around to make certain Mrs. Hayes wasn’t having the vapors. But the woman was cheering along with everyone else. For the boys, of course.

And more than that, the look on Claire’s face was pure delight. As was Adelicia’s, as she stood behind them on the stairs.

“Come on,” he heard Adelicia whisper, and knew instinctively whose team she was rooting for. Apparently gender outweighed blood relations, at least in competitions. The parents rooted for the teams too, yelling encouragements as they raced toward the goal.

But the winner was clear.

22

T
he girls’ team, led by the spunky little blonde who had spoken up earlier, stampeded up the stairs. With cheeks flushed and spirits high, the girls crowded together as though intent on guarding their territory as the leader pressed a neat pile of clues into Claire’s hand.