Chapter Two
Grace
“All right, everyone. This was productive,” I told Alice and Keisha. They were my two right hands, and I couldn’t function without them.
“I’ve got so many new ideas, Grace,” Keisha said.
My skincare business was booming, and I couldn’t be happier. I grinned. “I’m so excited!”
Alice nodded. “So are we. Your enthusiasm is contagious. But if it’s okay with you, we’re going to leave. It’s pretty late.”
I glanced at the clock and gasped. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to keep you this long.”
“No problem,” Alice replied. “We got a lot accomplished, so it was worth the extra time.”
Both of them were married and had kids, so they liked to be home for dinner. Crap . Ever since my divorce, I’d thrown all my effort and all my time into the business, which included working at odd hours. Sometimes I forgot other people needed to adhere to a schedule.
“Shoo, shoo, you two. Get out of here. I’m going to leave soon as well.”
After we said our goodbyes and they left my office, I rose to my feet, tilting my neck from one side to the other, smiling at the view out of my floor-to-ceiling window. I loved being in the business district. It had such fresh energy. When I’d been looking for offices, I first considered the Quarter—it was one of my most beloved areas in the city—but I wanted something more modern. There were a lot of start-ups in this area. Granted, they focused on tech software, but I still enjoyed being around people who were creating something. Sometimes I couldn’t believe I’d only started this business a year ago. It seemed much longer than that.
It was the fresh start I’d so needed.
My ex would hate seeing me so content. The day of the wedding, I had stars in my eyes and felt hopeful about the future. But it became harder and harder to keep my optimism as my marriage progressed. I’d been working in my family’s company back then, in the marketing department. I’d been very good at my job, but my husband convinced me that it would be best if I were to stay at home and take care of him and, hopefully soon, our new family. Even today, I couldn’t quite remember why I agreed to it. I’d always loved working. I loved being independent. But I’d been very much in love, and it seemed to make sense. If I were to get pregnant, I’d want to take some time off to be with the baby anyway.
Only, I didn’t get pregnant. And the second I quit my job, my husband’s attitude changed—as if my worth had somehow diminished and he could treat me any way he wanted.
But that was all in the past now. Even so, if I were being honest, it still hurt to think about everything I’d been through with him.
Grace Cointreau was Grace Deveraux again—not that that was doing me many favors these days. My brothers literally made a mess of everything. Some people were wary of associating with the Deveraux name, and after what those idiots had done, I really couldn’t blame them. I’d encountered many hurdles when I was setting up the business. Thank God I had a very generous nest egg I’d saved up, because I hadn’t wanted to ask my parents for any money. I was far too proud for that.
And speaking of fresh starts... I hurried to my desk and opened my laptop. Maybe it was a millennial thing, but I didn’t like to check emails on my phone. I clicked on my inbox. Darn . There was no reply.
I’d recently seen an ad from a horse ranch specializing in assisted therapy. They were looking for someone to invest in their business, and I was very interested.
After my divorce, I went to therapy for a while—they used painting and dogs for healing purposes, and it had been wonderful. Gaston and Felicia’s ranch served the same purpose—psychological therapy.
I’d sent them an email last week, and they replied that they’d get back to me but hadn’t done so yet. I wanted to know details and if someone else was interested too.
Despite the hour, I decided to call them right away. Knowing me, by tomorrow morning, I would forget all about it and throw myself into the marketing of my new skincare line. To my delight, someone immediately answered.
“Hello.”
“Hi, I’m Grace Deveraux.”
“Oh, Ms. Deveraux. Yes. This is Gaston here. Sorry, we’ve been meaning to get back to you, but we’ve had our hands full.”
“I figured it would be easier if I called.”
“Yes, yes. Good idea. Thank you for calling and for your interest.”
“Listen, I won’t keep you long. I’d like to make an appointment so I could come visit the ranch.”
“Sure, sure. I’ll talk to my wife about it and see what the schedule is in the upcoming week. Do you prefer evenings or mornings?”
“I’m flexible. And I have a question. Is anyone else interested?”
“Yes, Zachary LeBlanc.” The name was familiar, of course, and not just because LeBlanc was a common name in New Orleans. The LeBlancs and the Broussards were very well known in our community. One of the brothers, Xander, had been the one to put the paper trail together to prove my brothers had swindled money.
“I see” was all I said.
Why would a LeBlanc be interested in this? The Orleans Conglomerate had dozens of businesses already, and this would be so out of their realm.
“We’re going to coordinate it so that both of you see it at the same time, if that’s all right?”
“Sure, that makes sense.”
For them, at least.
“By the way,” he continued, “some guy called named Marcel.”
“Right...”
“He said he’s working with Zachary LeBlanc and started asking us about you.”
I blinked, certain I’d heard him wrong. “I’m sorry, asking about me ? Asking what?”
“If we’ve met you, what kind of person you are, if we can see ourselves doing business with you. If we’ve heard about your brothers’... er, ah... endeavors.”
Well, not a total surprise. It wasn’t as if the town hadn’t been talking about it, but still, that was extremely unprofessional. Obviously, he wanted to give them a bad impression of me.
“I found the whole thing very odd,” Gaston continued.
“Yes, it is,” I agreed. I kept my fingers crossed that he would hold this against Zachary. I already disliked the man on principle. Who would do that to someone else simply because they were interested in the same investment opportunity? “Mr. Gaston—”
“You may just call me Gaston.”
“Right. I’m an open book, and you can ask me anything.”
There was a pause, and then he said, “There’s been a lot of bad news concerning your brothers in the last year.”
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. Oh, if I had a penny every time I heard that. “Yes, I know. And I want you to know that I hold them responsible for what they did too. It was wrong.”
“It was indeed. People say that they tricked a lot of people out of money.”
In layman’s terms, yes. In legal terms, it had almost been a Ponzi scheme. It was only because my brothers could afford the very best of lawyers that they narrowly escaped any legal repercussions, but they had to leave the city. No one around here would do business with them again.
Even while we were growing up, I’d never seen eye to eye with them. They were always looking for the quick way to do things. Then as we got older, it was how to make bank without really doing anything. That was perhaps one of the reasons why I hadn’t wanted to go to the same schools they did. I’d wanted to pave my own way even then. The right way.
“Well, my wife and I have been talking...”
“Gaston,” I said quietly. “ I would be the one investing in your business. The risk is on my side, but if you feel insecure about it—”
“No, no, no. You know what? Let’s forget I ever said anything. I don’t even know why I did. That Marcel guy must have gotten in my head.”
I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t even met Zachary LeBlanc, yet I already had a bone to pick with him.
“We’re a small business and know that anyone who invests does so because their heart tells them to, not because they’re expecting any big profits,” he went on.
That was true. I hadn’t even asked to look over their financials yet. I would eventually, but I didn’t expect to find anything great.
“Do you have any experience with animal-assisted therapy?” he asked me.
“Only dogs. I find the whole thing very endearing. I went to therapy after my divorce,” I found myself saying, then closed my eyes. Why did I say that? I tried to never share anything personal with people I wanted to work with. I didn’t want to be perceived as weak or something worse. “What I meant to say was, I know how helpful animal-assisted therapy is. I think your work with veterans and kids is truly admirable, and that’s really why I wanted to help out.” They especially focused on post-traumatic stress disorders in veterans and anxiety in children.
“Thank you. That’s very nice to hear. Listen, my wife is feeding the horses, and I don’t think she’ll be back very soon, so I can’t give you a definite date right now.”
“Don’t worry. You already said that you’ll get back to me. But if we could arrange a visit next week, I’d be very grateful,” I said, applying gentle pressure. That was the way I did things, and it usually worked out for the best.
“And one last question, actually. Do you need to secure financing in order to invest?”
That was a legitimate question. Securing financing could be tricky in cases like this.
“No. It’s from my own personal funds.”
I thanked the heavens every day that the skincare business had taken off the way it did.
“All right, then. See you next week.”
“Thank you, Gaston.”
After hanging up, I was tempted to google Zachary LeBlanc. I knew it wasn’t uncommon in business circles to ask around about people—how else did you find out about someone you might be investing with? But I didn’t want to sour the rest of my evening. I’d just have to deal with him when we met at the ranch.
Sometimes it felt as if New Orleans was a small town, especially when it came to old families like mine or the LeBlanc-Broussards, and people loved to talk. But what he did was definitely crossing the line.
Whatever. The day was over, and I wouldn’t dwell on it.
I took a deep breath and got up from behind my desk, leaving the office before I could find something else to work on. The second I stepped out into the street, I looked to the right and to the left, taking in the evening air. It was fresh but warm as well. New Orleans’ summer humidity could be ghastly, and I thanked God I had air-conditioning in the office. This tight skirt and flimsy blouse weren’t the best choices for this hot weather.
I had the whole evening to myself tonight, and I was going to use it to treat myself to my favorite jambalaya at a small fusion restaurant just around the corner. Life was good, and I wasn’t going to let anyone convince me otherwise—not even Zachary LeBlanc.