Love Is Lovelier by Jean Brashear

Anne’s embrace was perhaps more ardent than usual. Renee and Celeste had only recently come to a rapprochement after years of difficulty. She would be a welcome buffer.
    “Oh, I don’t know, Mom.” Her strawberry-blond daughter, slim and taller than Anne, pretended to think. “I should probably get to work immediately to deal with the flood of tabloid reporters. I can just see the headlines now—St. Anne a Fallen Woman? Or no, wait—William the Conqueror Has His Way—”
    “Don’t start with me.” But Anne couldn’t hold firm again her child’s amusement. Charlotte would be standing beside Celeste, frowning, but Renee, even before her years in Hollywood, had been much less judgmental. “But you might want to leave before the shouting starts.”
    “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for a shot at the cover of Condé Nast Traveler .” Renee leaned over as they walked down the long hall toward the execution chamber. “Of course, this escapade is more likely to be on the front page of the Enquirer .”
    “Very funny.”
    “You don’t mind if I set up a conference call on my cell phone, so I can broadcast the pictures to the others?”
    Anne’s head whipped around, then she had to smile at how much Renee was enjoying this. “Don’t get cocky, doucette . You know one of us is always in trouble with her. You haven’t been in her good graces that long. Things could change.”
    “I’m not worried. All I have to do is say the word wedding, and it’s instant favorite grandchild status.”
    “Only if you and Pete don’t elope. And you agree to invite no less than five hundred.”
    Renee grimaced. “You’re a sore loser, Mom.”
    “Actually—” Anne paused before the parlor doors and patted her daughter’s cheek. “I’m feeling pretty lucky this morning.”
    “Mom!” Her daughter’s eyes popped wide, and it was all Anne could do not to laugh. “Why, you hussy.” Renee rubbed her hands together. “Okay, I’ll be your decoy, but you have to dish details as soon as we escape.”
    “Oh, chère .” Anne hugged her again and held on. “I am so happy to have you here with us. I know you and Pete will have to return to L.A. soon, but—”
    Renee tightened her grip. “No, Mama, we don’t.”
    “What are you saying?”
    “As a top-notch director, Pete’s in demand, yes, and he has to travel a lot, but he understands the importance of family. He knows we all have to pull together right now to make the hotel’s future sound, and he says he can just as easily have New Orleans as his home base.”
    Anne’s eyes stung suddenly. “Oh, bébé . I wouldn’t have asked—”
    Renee kissed her cheek. “I know. You don’t have to, Mom. We love you, all of us. We admire how you kept going after Papa died. We want to be here for you.”
    “Then I’m more than lucky today. I’m truly blessed.”
    “Is that you, Anne?” Celeste’s voice came from behind the door.
    Anne sighed. Rolled her shoulders like a boxer. “ Oui, Mère .”
    “I’ve got your back,” Renee whispered and squeezed her hand. “And anyway, we can run faster than she can.”
    They were both trying to stifle their giggles as Anne opened the door.

    W ILLIAM WAS on his way downtown immediately after Anne left. He’d sent an e-mail last night to Jud Lawson, the attorney who was serving as trustee for his offer on the Hotel Marchand, requesting that the lawyer he’d hired for this one purpose clear time for him as soon as possible today. First thing this morning, there’d been an answer that Jud had pushed all his appointments back and would be available as early as William cared to arrive.
    There were benefits to being a powerful man. William was not averse to trading upon them when needed, and now was such a time. The desperation in Anne’s voice last night when she’d spoken of the demand Charlotte had received worried him. Anne didn’t want to sell; he knew that. But rather than jeopardize the financial welfare of