Free Star Promise by G. J. Walker-Smith Page A

show up?”
    “Just play it cool.” He tucked my hair behind my ear. “And let Bridget do the talking.”
    I could count the number of times that Jean-Luc had visited our apartment on one hand. It was always awkward and uncomfortable, and that morning was no different. Bridget met him at the door with her trademark leg hug. All Décarie men were used to it, and strangely, none of them seemed to mind having a small child crash into them.
    “You’re here, Papy!” she squealed. “Mummy said you wouldn’t come.”
    My mouth gaped open, which was as close as I came to defending myself. No words followed.
    He smirked at me. “Did she now?”
    I steered Bridget toward the hallway. “Go and get your bag, please.” It might not have been my smartest move. Bridget took off at warp speed and I was left with the king.
    He wasted no time in putting me in my place. “I’m a man of my word, Charli,” he said pointedly. “If I say I’m going to do something, I do it.”
    “That’s not entirely true,” I slyly replied. “What about that time you told me you were going to have me tried as a witch and burned at the stake? That never happened.”
    He grinned, looking exactly like his sons. “I’m still working on it.”
    Bridget reappeared and declared that she was good to go. I hugged her. “Have fun today, and be good, okay?”
    Her head nodded so swiftly that her blonde pigtails whipped her face. “Come, my love,” urged Jean-Luc, nudging her toward the open door. “Press the elevator button. I’ll be there in a moment.”
    “Was there something else?” I asked when she’d gone.
    “I’m awaiting instructions,” he replied. “I’m assuming you have some.”
    I wondered if there was any point in telling him what they were. I knew he’d probably ignore them, but I laid out my rules anyway. “Please don’t give her any money,” I said strongly. “She hasn’t spent a single cent that you’ve given her so far.”
    His brown eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”
    “None. I’m thinking of wallpapering her bedroom with it.”
    Jean-Luc huffed out a sharp laugh. “I didn’t realise,” he said. “I won’t give her any more.”
    “Thank you,” I replied. “I’d appreciate it.”
    “Perhaps I could take her shopping,” he suggested. “I would like to see her spend it on something worthwhile.”
    I couldn’t kill the smile that crossed my face, or the smartarse words that followed. “As opposed to seven hundred bucks worth of glitter and a cauldron?”
    He dropped his head, smiling down at the floor. “And where might one buy a cauldron, Charlotte?”
    “Bridget will show you,” I replied. “She gets discounts on her frequent shopper card.”
    ***
    Despite my misgivings, I was happy that Bridget was spending the day with her grandfather. My concern was for him, not her. Jean-Luc wasn’t used to dealing with small children, least of all Bridget.
    I wasn’t sure how I felt about her recently acquired shrewd streak. I couldn’t find it in me to be appalled. She reminded me too much of myself, and every crafty act she carried out sent me straight back to all the years my father had spent trying to pull me into line. Just thinking about it made me want to call and apologise.
    I wasn’t intent on holding her feet to the fire like Adam was, but I certainly didn’t encourage bad behaviour. Her latest misdeed had been an ill-gained Hermes scarf that she’d swindled from Bente a few days earlier. I found it stuffed in her backpack, completely trashed thanks to the red lipstick all over it. I hadn’t been entirely sure who to direct my anger at. Bridget had wrecked it, but Ryan was the fool who’d given it to her in the first place. All I could do was replace it and apologise to Bente, which was how I spent my lunchbreak that day.
    The rest passed in a blur. Most of the afternoon was spent dealing with pieces that had been delivered the day before. Three sold before they even went on display, and