Free Pillow Talk by Hailey North Page B

She'd not only divorced Jules after only two months, she announced to whomever would listen that two months with Jules had caused her to renounce not only her husband but men in general. To the immense relief of the Ponthier clan, CeCe had removed herself to San Francisco and at last report was working as a massage therapist. But though she'd sworn off Jules and his gender, she continued to cash her alimony checks.
    Meg was looking more and more concerned. "The loss of a parent for a child his age…" As she trailed off she glanced straight at Parker and he read the question in her eyes. Between those thick lashes and those unusual blue eyes that blended from azure to midnight near the irises, he saw her seeking the answer to the question of the child's age.
    "Ten is tough." Parker wondered how she did what she did to him. Perhaps she'd put the whammy on Jules, too, and he'd married her out of sheer old-fashioned desire, because he simply couldn't help himself against her appeal. Parker couldn't blame his brother. Not one bit.
    "Oh, ten is very tough," she murmured.
    He thought he saw a glisten of moisture in her eyes, the first sign of pure grief she'd yet to show.
    Isolde said in a voice that carried across the room despite the fact she still had her nose buried in her book, "I don't think ten is harder or easier than any other age. I think it's got to be hard no matter when." She lifted her head, a look of surprise on her face, then she retreated into her pose over the book, earphones firmly in place.
    Amelia Anne smiled at her daughter.
    Parker couldn't help but think his much put- upon cousin was probably grateful that her daughter acknowledged the sentiment. Amelia Anne was accepted as the type of doormat no one would miss if she simply drifted off into the night. Parker had often found himself wishing she'd find herself, perhaps through entering therapy or joining a feminist group. But she remained firmly within the shadow of her mother, her only social outlet the genteel, white-gloved gatherings of the ladies of the Orleans Club. And as that bastion of old New Orleans respectability lay a mere block from Ponthier Place, and Amelia Anne's husband's family owned the house opposite them on Son iat, the orbit of Amelia Anne's life was not large.
    "You know, Isolde," Meg said, answering the teenager despite her withdrawal, "I think that's a valid point. Ten is tough. And so is thirty-two," she added softly.
    Parker thought he saw a smile flit across the girl's face, but he couldn't have sworn to it,
    "Well, I've heard some of my friends say they spend their days going to funerals and they say it like they're talking about getting up a foursome for golf," Grandfather said. His jaw worked. "Don't understand that myself. A death lessens us all, old or young." He cleared his throat. "Enough philosophizing." He pointed to Meg. "You and Parker will have to break the news to Gus."
    She merely nodded.
    Parker wasn't sure why, but the idea panicked him. What did he know about telling a ten-year-old his dad had died? And it wasn't as if Gus were your average well-adjusted kid. Marianne did nothing but ignore him, then fly into town with an armload of presents, then when Gus erupted with rage, she claimed not to be able to do a thing with him.
    She and Jules had packed him off to school in Mississippi before the child had turned seven. Parker had seen Gus on holiday visits to Ponthier Place, but not for more than an hour or so at a time. Parker's own home lay safely across town near Bayou St. John. Since Grandfather's stroke, Parker spent a lot more time at Ponthier Place, discussing business in the library, but during the past two years, Gus had remained most of the year at the school.
    Knowing how ill-suited he was to the task of handling the child, Parker waited for Meg to object, to say it wasn't her responsibility. He'd wager Marianne wouldn't even fly back from Switzerland for the funeral; CeCe might show up, but no way would