Who Loves Them? (Who--? Series) (2 page)

Daniel looked up at him
questioningly.  “I cannot imagine that you can.  But by all means, let’s hear it.  My options are very limited right now.  Old friend, if you can help me out of this quandary, I will be forever in your debt.  I am at a loss of what to do….”

Christian set his glass down
, as he thought carefully about how to explain the situation.  “My daughter-in-law is about to have a girl.  She’s miscarried three times already, and the doctors have warned her not to attempt another pregnancy.  There will be no grandson to inherit the money and my name, and my granddaughter will have less than a stellar chance of making a good marriage, considering the blight her mother has made on our family’s reputation.  You have a daughter who cannot possibly inherit on account of her husband, and a four-year-old grandson.”

“
This is what I propose.  We draw up a contract promising that the two children will marry when my granddaughter is twenty-one.  I will give her a substantial dowry, half of which will be paid to you now for your daughter’s benefit, on the condition that it is in her name only and that her husband have no access to it.  The other half will be paid to her on the completion of the contract, which will be considered fulfilled when the couple produces a son.  If it can be verified that there is a legitimate reason they cannot produce a son, then the money will be payable on their fifth wedding anniversary.  You will skip your daughter in favor of your grandson in the inheritance.  When my granddaughter and your grandson produce a son, I will settle a hefty inheritance on him.  My granddaughter will hyphenate her name to Fontenot-Buck upon the marriage, and their children will carry the hyphenated name.  Their first son will also have the middle name Olivier.  This will solve both of our problems.”

Daniel frowned
.  “Isn’t it a bit old-fashioned? To arrange a marriage like this? What if they don’t want to get married, or one of them turns out to be…” He trails off and looks slightly embarrassed.  “You know, not interested in the opposite sex?”

Christian snorted
.  “I know you’re a romantic, friend.  But marriage isn’t fundamentally about love, at least not among our type of society, regardless of how yours might have been.  When there is money and property in the balance, marriages are about the passing on of names and family ties.  My name will end with my son’s passing, and you have only daughters and a son-in-law who will squander all that you’ve worked for before it can be passed to your grandson.  In this way, we can help your daughter and secure the future for my granddaughter, who will carry on my name with hers, and will help carry on yours with her progeny.  It is the best solution, Daniel.  So, even if one of them is fond of the same sex, the marriage can still work.  It is just a matter of priorities.  Family is a priority.  Money is a priority.  Love is not a priority.  They can both take a lover if they wish.  It is not my concern.” Christian looked at Daniel expectantly.  Even though he had not expected this topic of discussion with his visit to Daniel, he had been giving his own dilemma at least a great deal of thought and consideration.

Daniel sighed, running both hands through his thick shock of white hair
.  “You’re right, as always, Christian.  Do you think their parents will agree?”

Christian snorted
.  “Your daughter has no choice.  It’s that or poverty, and I doubt she’ll last long in line at a soup kitchen.  My son may object at first, but he has a reasonable head on his shoulders, and he will see sense.  He will not want to lose his inheritance, at any rate.  He was lucky to keep it when he married that woman.  If she hadn’t been pregnant at the time, I’m sure he would have moved on to another young debutant.”  He shook his head at the folly of their children.  “He will see sense, and his wife will keep her silence, as she always has.  She knows her place in our family.  Our children have, with their naïve insistence on marrying whomever, created this quagmire, and we, my friend, are the ones who have to solve it.  They have made their decisions, and now we are making ours.  We are charged with looking out for the best interests of our family, and that is what we do.”

Daniel nodded his assent
.  “Meet me on Monday morning at the office then.  We’ll have our lawyers draw up the paperwork.”

New Orleans, Louisiana, 2009

Christina Elise Fontenot was certain that she had
never felt more like a living China doll than she did today.

It was her eighteenth birthday, and like every other event that had ever happened in her life, the day was being coordinated to fit the high-fashioned taste of her family
.  Her mother, in particular, had always seemed overly concerned with pandering to the wishes of her in-laws, no doubt in an effort to try to erase the taint that overshadowed her own family, and thus, her marriage.  Marrying Andre Fontenot had been quite a coup for her, at least in the eyes of the Fontenot family.  The blush carried over to Christina, and so her mother had spent the last eighteen years trying to make her as perfect a Fontenot as possible, no doubt in an effort to make sure she secured some grand marriage, Christina thought grimly.  Somehow, making a good marriage seemed to be the highest achievement a good, social lady could achieve.

It was 2009, but that fact seemed to escape nearly every member of the c
lass to whom her family belonged.  Nobody seemed to realize that times had changed.  Antiquated customs such as coming-out parties, charm school, and sending well-bred young women to Europe for the summer in hopes that they might catch a titled husband, were still par for the course.  It was an expected tradition that would probably never fade from the well-off respected families of the area.  It would appear as though, in their “genteel” society, women’s liberation had never occurred.  She thought uncharitably that maybe she should tell all of the women in their social circles that women had actually been given the right to vote.  It was, Chris reflected, not unlike a very anachronistic fishing tournament, with blushing, giggling young ladies for bait.  In a way, it sickened her.  She felt like she was living in another century than those around her.  Women were not opposed to staying out at all hours of the night, courting more than one man at a time.  And yet she would never dare of shaming her family in such a way. 

Had she had her choice of how to spend her birthday, she might have spent it down at the
old swimming hole, jumping out of the tree into the icy cold water and taunting her timid best friend to follow her cue.  The bolder girls in her circle might “accidentally” lose their bikini tops, cajoling the cutest boys to retrieve them, and then rewarding them with a kiss.  Her friend Marc might grill on the old, crumbling charcoal grills nearby and Kate would make a chocolate cake with berries.  They would lie on the grass until the stars came out, and then they would all wonder and whisper about what was in store for them.  She often wondered what “other” girls got to do on their birthdays. 

Instead, her mother had carefully crafted a garden party for ten of her “closest” friends, that is, not her true close friends (who were often deemed too “common” for her to keep company with) but carefully handpicked girls whose parents and society connections would prove to Chris’s benefit, according to her mother
.  It was really just a chance for her mother to invite the girls’ parents along for a bit of a chin wag.  Gossip was the only thing that kept her mother going these days, especially since she found out about Lilly.

Lillian
Baltimore was the Prima Donna of the socialites.  She was blonde, tall, and willowy, with smoldering gray eyes that seemed to follow you wherever you went.  She had many suitors, but much to her parents’ chagrin, she rejected them all.  There was nothing wrong with these men; they were as equally attractive as she; however, she preferred the company of giggling women, something of which she had confided in Chris only a week ago.

“Oh, but women are just so much more beautiful than men, don’t you think?” Lilly had said, as she and Chris strolled around the grounds of her great-aunt’s manner house
.  “I mean, they are ever so polite, always smell so delightful, and they wear the most beautiful gowns.  Men do not interest me at all.  They are just idle playthings.”

Although Chris enjoyed Lilly’s company, she didn’t know why her father insisted on setting up luncheons with her and her family
.  She wondered what she would need connections for, since they all seemed to go from one social event or committee meeting to another.  There would be “nibbles,” as Elisa liked to call the petite tea sandwiches, small pastries, and tea.  Chris privately thought that those kinds of food were hardly enough to keep a bird alive, but she kept that opinion to herself.  Despite the fact that Chris’s frame was slender and firm, with lean hips and small breasts, and a narrow, pixie-ish face, her mother constantly fretted over her appetite, often telling the cook to send out smaller portions for Chris at the dinner table.  Her mother had been micromanaging Chris’ weight as long as she could remember.  There was never a free-for-all junk food party at their house.  The cake would no doubt not be Chris’s favorite, chocolate with dark frosting and fruit, but some spongy, towering iced confection.  And as for what she was wearing….

Chris sighed dispassionately as she looked into the mirror
.  Sometimes she wished she were as carefree as Lilly, who seemed to pay no attention to her attire at all.  She would often wear plain dark blues and greens, colors that would hardly attract a husband.  Today, Chris was wearing an eyelet top, padded at the bosom with short, fluttery cap sleeves, and a knee-length skirt that fluffed out with layers of lightweight lacy filler underneath it.  It did nip in her waist nicely and made her look as though she had something resembling breasts, but the look, when coupled with the strappy white high-heeled sandals and girlish makeup that her mother had insisted upon, was altogether too grown-up Shirley Temple for her taste.  She felt like she was turning ten in the outfit her mother had chosen. 
When you turn eighteen, shouldn’t you get to pick your own clothes?
Chris thought grimly.  Chris preferred long, flowing skirts with strappy tanks and flat sandals with her hair left to its own devices, a look altogether too bohemian and “witchy” for her mother, who demanded that she dress “according to her station.”  Sometimes, Chris reflected, her mother sounded just as if she had stepped out of the nineteenth century.  It didn’t surprise her, given her archaic views on how women should look and act.  Chris often wished she was born in a family less concerned with looks and more with overall happiness.  She sometimes wondered whether her mother cared about her feelings at all.

The maid had somehow cajoled Chris’s masses of curly, auburn hair into a sleek updo, twisting and spraying and pinning until it all stayed in place
.  The hairstyle gave her a headache, but, while not Chris’s usual choice, did show off her earrings nicely, a birthday present from her father.  He had given them to her early this morning, before her mother awoke.  “I thought you should have something special for your eighteenth birthday,” he had said, handing her a small velvet box.  Aside from the pearl set she had received from her parents for her coming-out debut, Chris had never had any real jewelry of her own, always borrowing from her mother if she needed something.  Her mother’s logic was that fine jewelry, apart from the pearls, was for a woman, not a girl.  It was sort of ironic, Chris thought, because her mother was always harping on her to act more like a lady.

The box had contained a beautiful pair of emerald earrings, deep green oval stones bordered by a thi
n band of rose gold with a woodgrain pattern carved into the gold.  They looked simple, elegant, like something a wood nymph might find in a forest and wear to a fairies’ ball.  They were exactly something Chris would have chosen for herself.  She had looked up gratefully at her father.  “Oh, thank you so much!” she had exclaimed, excitedly taking them out of the box and trying them on.  The rose gold looked beautiful against her hair, and the emeralds made her blue eyes sparkle and shine in her pale, narrow face.  Her father had smiled, leaning against the doorjamb.  “Today is all about your mother showing you off.  I thought for your birthday, you should have something that was all about you.” There was a shadow in his eyes when he said the last part, and Chris wondered at it for a second, but she quickly brushed it aside.  Her father had been often brooding in the past few weeks, but when anyone asked, he would shrug it off, unwilling to talk about whatever was on his mind.

The party went exactly as Chris had expected
.  Which meant nothing went the way she wished it had gone.  She entered the back garden after everyone had already arrived and been seated, so all eyes were on her, something that made her profoundly uncomfortable.  She was seated at the table with her mother, who kept one eye on her throughout the entire performance, making sure Chris’s plate was never overfull, and orchestrating the conversation artfully.  For someone who had spent all of her youth outside of the circle to which she now belonged, her mother had certainly adapted quickly, Chris thought grimly.  According to her father, Elisa had once been a sharp-witted, intelligent young woman, but years of marriage in the Fontenot clan had turned her into another vapid society lady.  Being intelligent and quick were not admired traits in a society wife.  It was little wonder, Chris mused, that her father’s sparkle dulled whenever her mother walked into the room.  He must be bitterly disappointed in the loss of the vibrant girl that he had married.  Chris wondered if her father thought it had been worth it to go against his father’s wishes when he married her mother.  She wondered if she was destined to become her mother, and if so, when would the brainwashing begin?  Was this all some kind of test?  Had she broken the rules?

Elisa had frowned
sharply when she saw her daughter’s earrings, but said nothing, no doubt knowing her husband’s hand in their selection.  Besides, she had too many other things to concentrate on today.  She made sure Chris engaged in conversation with each of the girls that she had invited, a few of which she was fairly sure Chris had never met before.  No matter, though, they were girls whom Chris needed to know, and Chris, to her credit, and conscious of her mother’s gaze on her, behaved just as if she had known each one all her life.  Chris had been raised to act a certain way, and she managed to do so, despite her discomfort.  She wouldn’t do anything to embarrass her mother.

Chris was surprised that Lilly had been invited, granted her mother’s disposition towards the girl
.  “A full grown woman and not married!” Her mother was bewildered.  “What is the matter with the girl?  Is she barren?  It’s not that hard to please a husband.” Chris had shrugged off her mother’s comments, saying that Lilly had many suitors, and she was waiting for one of them to ask her hand in marriage.  But she knew, in her heart, that Lilly would most likely grow old without a husband, and live a happy life with a countless string of lovers, something Chris would have preferred.  She felt caged by her mother’s wishes for her to marry early and have children.  She wished she could sort it all out in her own time. 

The cake was
as Christina had expected, a white, fluffy, towering concoction covered in flowers and berries, and while it tasted delicious, Chris kept herself to a small sliver, knowing she would hear about it later if she ate more.  Besides, her appetite was not much anyway.  She had expected all of this, but it was still a bit of a disappointment, to have her birthday turn into just another stage for her to be paraded on.  She truly hated feeling like a pampered poodle that was paraded in front of judges who gave her a score on how well she behaved, and how perfect her hair and attire were.  She blew out her candles without much fanfare, wishing quietly on the candles:
Please, let something change this year
.

Perhaps she
should have been more careful about what she wished for.

After the party had died down, the girls all said their goodbyes and the servants came to clear out the garden
.  Lilly waited behind and pressed a small box into her hand, no bigger than her palm.  “Open this in private later,” she whispered, hugging her firmly around the waist.  “It’s a surprise.”

Chris nod
ded and walked inside with her mother, tugging fretfully at a hairpin.  “I have a bit of a headache,” she said quietly.  “I think I might go upstairs.”

“Not yet, dear,” her mother said, smiling as her husband walked into the room
.  “Your grandfather is here, and he wants to speak with you.” She looked down in disapproval at the little box in Chris’ hand.  “Give that to me.  I’ll put it with the rest of the gifts.”

Chris felt th
e sudden urge to keep the box on her person.  She had the feeling that her mother would open it, and she didn’t want her prying into her affairs any more than she already did.  “It’s fine, mother, I want to hold on to it.  “ She paused, lost in thought.  “Did you say my grandfather was here?  He is here right now?”

Chris’s eyes widened
.  Her grandfather had spent quite a lot of time with her when she was young.  He was fond of calling her his favorite granddaughter, to which she had always cheekily replied that she was his only granddaughter.  As he grew older, however, he had confined himself largely to the house and grounds where he lived, rarely venturing out.  She had missed him the last few years.  She might have expected, however, that he would make an appearance for her eighteenth birthday.  She smiled unexpectedly.  “Is he here now?” she repeated.

Andrew and Elisa exchanged a glance
.  “He’s in the study, dear.”

Chris started toward
the door, and then looked over her shoulder.  “Aren’t you coming?”