made her decision. âDoes a girl have to wear black every day?â
âI thought you did,â Jeanne replied. âI am amazed that you could find something else, even in a closet the size of a small Caribbean country.â
âHacked from Char,â she explained, spinning to give Jeanne the full effect.
âAh.â Her smile faded. She sniffed.
âJeanne! Whatâs the matter?â
âNothing, mademoiselle , nothing,â said Jeanne, clearing her throat.
Savvy went to her. âTell me.â
Jeanne lowered the hand holding the knife. âItâs just . . . in that shade of blue, you look every bit as beautiful as your maman.â
Savvy made a sympathetic face and gave her a one-armed hug.
Jeanne wiped her eye with her sleeve. âWhere are you going?â
âNext door, to the Moraleses,â Savvy replied, snitching a morsel of cheese destined for the squash dish.
âI assume the land negotiations are going well?â
Thatâs all? No comment on the unprecedented fact that she was dining at the home of the opposition?
âWeâve hit a little glitch. Iâm not giving up though. I have a plan.â
âThatâs my girl.â As Jeanne worked, her keen eyes flickered over Savvy. âWhy is it that your cheeks are so red ?â
Savvy flicked a glance into the wall mirror. âSame rouge as ever, mustâve been a little heavy-handed.â She whirled back around, fanning herself. âDo we have any good bread?â
âIn my net bag, right there.â She motioned with a sticky hand. âI bought extra today.â
Savvy reached past Jeanne to withdraw a paper-wrapped baguette from her bag. Then, with a clink, she pulled a bottle of last yearâs cab from the cooler built into the island.
âChanel No. 5, yes?â said Jeanne.
Couldnât she get away with anything around here?
Jeanne lifted a knowing brow. âYour dresses are all black, but your scent wardrobe is very diverse. Itâs a good choice for a date.â
âI told you, Jeanne,â she said, kissing her cheeks. âItâs nothing but business. à tout à lâheure!â
She was halfway out of the room when she heard Jeanneâs footsteps behind her.
âWaitâI almost forgot. Take this too.â She opened a cupboard and withdrew a small glass jar. âA little hostess gift.â
The label was in French. âDid you get another package from your sister in Lyon?â
âNo. This I sent for special.â
âThanks, Jeanne. Youâre so thoughtful.â
âGive Maria my regards,â Jeanne called as Savvy walked out the door.
âI will. Oh, and Jeanne, could you do me a favor when you see Char?â
Jeanne lifted a brow.
âRemind her I said we need to sit down and talk about her prenup.â
Â
Esteban listened for the slam of Savvyâs car door. He needed to catch her before she set foot in the house, to lay the ground rules. First and foremost, donât talk about the offer on the land.
Too late. By the time he got back from the living room carrying a flimsy, straw-bottomed chair that he prayed wouldnât collapse under his weight, she was already standing on the other side of the glass, hand poised to knock.
âIs that Señorita Sauvignon? Tell her to come in!â said Madre.
But his mouth wouldnât work. That blue sweater had struck him speechless. All he could do was hold the door open and try not to gape as she sashayed across the threshold.
She had breasts. Two of them. Peach-sized, by his estimation. Theyâd gone completely unnoticed earlier, beneath those dreary nun habits.
She handed Madre a skinny loaf of bread, a bottle of red wine, and a yellowish jar, and the two women reunited as if they hadnât seen each other for sixty years instead of sixty minutes, kissing, laughing, and chirping like a couple of magpies.
Padre rode in from the
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