Free The Setup by Marie Ferrarella

she didn’t want anything to upset her mother.
    But Anne remained her usual cool, collected self, an attitude that had taken years to hone around the woman who had given her life and the verve to pursue it.
    It appeared that war was not to break out tonight. Satisfied, Sylvie had hugged each woman in turn and given her little girl a sound kiss, solemnly instructing Daisy Rose to keep an eye on her grandmother and great-grandmother.
    “You can count on me, Mama,” Daisy Rose had promised in her almost grown up voice.
    Lord, Sylvie thought, what had life been like without Daisy Rose? She couldn’t begin to remember. With a delighted laugh, she’d hugged the little girl again, and then, seeing the taxi pull up outside her door, she had taken her purse and her leave.
    “Have a good time,” were Anne’s parting words.
    “But not too good,” Celeste had called after her, raising her voice. “Daisy Rose doesn’t need a little brother or sister yet.”
    No need to worry about that, Grand-mère, Sylvie thought to herself now, as Celeste’s words echoed in her head. The last thing she was looking for was a relationship with Gregory Peck.
    Or even Johnny Depp, she added silently, thinking of what she’d said to Maddy yesterday. Her life right now was very, very full. There was no room for anyone else.
    They were here, she realized abruptly, finding herself looking up at the hotel’s familiar front entrance as the taxi slowed to a stop.
    The next moment, one of the valets employed by the hotel was at her door, opening it for her.
    “Miss Sylvie, surely you didn’t come back to work tonight,” Paul said. His dark eyes swept over her appreciatively. Married, with three children and one on the way, the man still had an eye for the ladies, although it was on a strictly “look but don’t touch” basis. His wife numbered a voodoo high priestess among her distant relatives, it was rumored, and Paul was not a man who took chances. “Not dressed like this, at any rate. You look lovely.”
    She smiled her thanks as she handed the cabdriver several bills to cover the fare and a generous tip. “Very perceptive of you, Paul.” Sylvie slid out of the cab, accepting the valet’s hand. “I’m going out with one of the hotel guests.”
    Closing the taxi door behind her, Paul smiled. “Lucky guest.”
    She smiled to herself as she murmured, “We’ll see.”
     
    T HE LAST DATE he had been on was back in college. With Donna. An entire generation had been born and grown up since then, Jefferson thought nervously as he adjusted the light gray silk tie at his throat.
    What was he doing here, acting like some single guy, pretending to have a clue? He wasn’t single. He was a family man. A family man whose family, through no fault of his own, was no longer as large a unit as it once had been. But family men didn’t date.
    With a sigh that went clear down to his toes, he put on his jacket and left the hotel room, checking to make sure he had his key card in his pocket.
    He hadn’t even felt this nervous taking his bar exam, he thought.
    Jefferson pressed the button for the elevator. It arrived almost immediately. Getting in, he felt like a condemned man about to walk his last mile. Definitely not the way to approach a date.
    The elevator doors closed with an unnerving finality. The only way he was going to get through tonight, he decided, was to pretend this was just some kind of work function he was attending. Sylvie Marchand wasn’t his date, she was just someone he was escorting. That she was lovely didn’t help matters any. On the contrary, it made him feel guilty. As if he were somehow cheating on Donna. It didn’t matter that she was gone, that she had been gone for eight years. She was his wife and always would be. When he had said, “Until death do us part,” he hadn’t meant her death—he’d meant his.
    He had no business doing this, no business going out socially with anyone but old friends.
    Old friends.
    He