Jonquils for Jax (Blueberry Lane 3 - The Rousseaus #1) - Katy Regnery Page 0,38
flagstone path to the front of Le Chateau, bypassing the small set of steps that led to the study and climbing up the wide marble steps just beyond that led to a set of three French doors. Pressing the doorbell, he straightened his spine and crossed his arms over his chest.
To his surprise, the door wasn’t opened by Jax. He was greeted by a middle-aged woman wearing black pants and a crisp white shirt.
“Ms. Rousseau—Jacqueline, that is—is in the gym. She asked that you meet her there.”
Gardener took a deep breath, squinting around the entry hall that spanned twelve to fifteen feet in each direction. Cream blobs of wall bled into cream blobs of marble floor, and other than a blob of red in front of him, which he assumed from its shape was a staircase, he could barely make out anything else.
“Could you tell me where—”
“And she asked me to give you this,” said Mrs. Jefferson, handing Gard an envelope.
He felt the telltale ridges of dollar bills inside, and his lips turned down. Wow. She was a piece of work, and he got the message loud and clear: she wouldn’t be paying in Abita and kisses this time. Well, fine. Perfect. Better for everyone.
When he looked up, Mrs. Jefferson was gone, her footsteps far away.
Still holding the envelope, he stood in the large entryway, trying to get a bead on which direction Jax had gone last time, but he’d been so distracted by her getup, he’d followed her to the gym—ogling her ass—without keeping track of how she got there. Damn it. There were probably a hundred different doors in this massive atrium of an entryway—rooms, closets—and Lord only knew where he’d find the one that led downstairs. And shit, if he started opening random doors to find his way, he’d look like an idiot, not to mention he’d probably get lost.
“Merde,” he muttered, taking several steps forward toward the red blob, finding that he was correct in assuming it was a grand staircase with red carpeting.
Grateful to discover he was right, he sat down on the steps, trying to figure out what to do. The front door was directly in front of him—he could tell by the bright light streaming in through the windows, even if he’d somehow gotten disoriented. He could start at the door, find the perimeter of the room and follow it around, opening every door as quietly as possible until he found the right one…or he could sit here on the steps and wait. Certainly Mrs. Jefferson would eventually walk by, or Jax, the duchess herself, would come looking for him. After all, he thought with a sneer, she paid for my time. Resting his elbows on his knees, he let the envelope fall from his fingers to the red-carpeted step beside him and let out a deep breath, thinking about his old life and missing it desperately.
This life, where he couldn’t make his way through hedgerows or find his way downstairs in a house he’d already visited once before, made him feel like half a man, like a babe in the woods, when once upon a time, he’d been a protector. It was frustrating and humiliating, but the reality was that he was lucky to have the limited sight he had. He knew that. Some days he even tried to be grateful for it. It’s just that he didn’t know how to be both himself and also this—this shadow of who he used to be. But he had to figure it out or he’d go crazy, he’d—
“Gard? Bon jour!”
He hadn’t heard her walk into the hallway, likely because she was barefoot, and her tan feet with chipped polish on the nails suddenly appeared directly in front of his sneakers, tiny in contrast.
“Here you are! I was wondering what—”
“I’m blind,” he said softly, still staring at their feet.
“Wait. What?”
“I’m blind,” he said again, looking up at her from where he sat on the steps, his heart thumping wildly behind his ribs as his pathetic truth tumbled from his lips. “I have no long distance vision and very little peripheral. The scars around my eyes…”
His voice trailed off and he sat in misery, letting his head fall forward with the shame of it. He should leave now. He should stand up and leave. She wouldn’t stop him. She wouldn’t come around anymore. She’d see how absurd it was for him to be teaching her