BornontheBayou Read Online Free

didn’t have time to ring off when her phone rang again.
A number she didn’t recognize. “Hello.”
    “Ms. Christmas.”
    “Mr. Bell. Hello. How are you?”
    “Fine, fine. I just received a call about Monsieur
Chaballet. He’s left Great Oaks?”
    “Yes, I’m afraid so. I was about to review the list of chefs
I have on file. It’s a shame it didn’t work out.”
    “That won’t be necessary, Ms. Christmas. Beverley. As you
know, we employed you to oversee the renovations. We always intended to put in
a more experienced manager when your job was done. On review, we’re happy with
the job you’ve done, but a new man has unexpectedly become available. One of
our best managers, and we cannot afford to let this opportunity slide. We would
like to thank you for your valuable input, and in lieu of the short notice
we’re forced to give you, we’d like to offer you a bonus.”
    She bit back her instant response, to tell him what he could
do with his bonus. “And you’ll provide me with a reference?”
    “Of course.”
    No more to be said. She fought back her tears. They wouldn’t
do her any good now. All because of that fucking man. If he hadn’t led her on
to believe he was Chaballet, she could be sitting pretty.
    If she’d secured Chaballet for the Bell Group, they’d have
given her the job of manager here, at the very least, assistant manager.
    What a stupid end to her new life. Oh, she could appeal, but
word would get around that she was “awkward”. She’d never recover from that
kind of failure. She dropped her chin, breathed, worked out what to do.
    She scrawled a note and left it on her desk. She’d send
something more formal later. Time to call it a day, time to leave this
exasperating, beautiful country and head home, where she had contacts, where she
knew people. Not all adventures ended well.
    She raced upstairs to her bedroom and threw her things in
her suitcase. She never traveled with much—she didn’t have much. Her laptop,
jeans and the suits she’d bought for business, together with the one evening
dress she used for official occasions. After tossing in her lingerie and toilet
bag, she was more or less done.
    Her purse contained her passport and money. Having an
e-reader meant she didn’t even have any books to pack. Sad, really, that she
had so little. Truth was, she hadn’t had time to accumulate much.
    Picking up her briefcase, she glanced back at the room.
Almost as pristine as the day she’d arrived. She’d always promised herself a
shopping spree in nearby Baton Rouge, but she’d never found the time. Besides,
she had no idea about clothes, having spent most of her twenty-eight years in a
uniform of one kind or another.
    She clattered down the stairs, carrying the wheeled case and
her briefcase, even now careful she didn’t knock the freshly painted walls.
    Gaston raised his brows at the sight of the case, but he
stowed it in the back of the car and found a place for her briefcase. She kept
hold of her purse, as she always did, keeping the long strap across her body.
Long-distance travel made her nervous, so she always liked to keep her
essential documents close.
    Not that her purse stopped Gaston brushing her thigh
occasionally as he drove down the road that led to the main highway, and then
nudging her as they turned the corner. She’d expected it. Gaston was a player,
or liked to think he was. “So did the new boss drive you out?” he asked,
sympathy dripping from every pore.
    “No, I need to go home.” And see her parents again, confess
her failure and try to find something else to do with her life.
    “Seems a shame. You’ve done a whole lot of alterations since
you came.”
    She had, and she’d taken pleasure seeing the beauty hidden
behind the layers of decay and neglect, and the restoration revealing details
probably not seen for centuries. The restorers had done the research, but she’d
overseen it and made sure everything happened in order and when it was