G.T. Herren - Paige Tourneur 02 - Dead Housewives of New Orleans by G.T. Herren Read Free Book Online Page B

house.”
    She gave me her private cell phone number, which I plugged into my phone along with the address of her office. She gave me a quick air kiss, hugged Athalie, and exited in a cloud of Poison. I heard the front door close, and I turned back to Athalie. “No offense, Athalie, but this was what was so important that I had to come back to town? Ryan’s going to be furious.”
    She stared at me for a moment before she burst out laughing. It took her a few moments to get hold of herself, even going so far as to dab at her eyes with a napkin. She took another drink of her Mimosa, and once she’d swallowed, she put it back down on the table and leaned forward. “No, that’s not why I called you. That was just a bizarre coincidence.” She started to laugh again, but managed to get control of herself in the nick of time. “I’d already called you when she showed up unannounced.” She pursed her lips. “A sign of bad breeding, you know.” She waved her hand. “Yes, I
am
trying to get a substantial donation from her for the symphony, and of course, I am not above using your position at the magazine to get Rebecca to open her checkbook.” She gave me a smile that would frighten someone who didn’t know her as well as I. “But when she came here with her absolutely
ridiculous
story, wanting my help to convince you to do a puff piece on her— and you were already on your way here, well, what could I see it as besides divine providence?”
    “The Lord does work in mysterious ways,” I replied. I knew better than to rush Athalie. She’d get to the point eventually.
    “Indeed.” She nodded her head. She chuckled again. “I have to say, the Barron civil war is going to be interesting to watch, don’t you think? It’s amazing how they’ve managed to keep this all so quiet. Of course, after the will was read, I’d heard something, you know, the sons were going to fight the will, all of that nonsense. But since it wasn’t really more than idle gossip, I just assumed everything was fine.”
    As I might have mentioned, New Orleans is a very small town and Chanse swears there’s no more than one degree of separation among the entire population. Everyone in the city loves to gossip— I do include myself in that number. There must be something in the water here that makes us all storytellers. Athalie was right. If things behind the scenes at Barron Restaurant Group were indeed that fractious, it was strange no one had heard about it before.
    Which meant I could break the story in the magazine— and that made me one very happy editor-in-chief.
    And would make Rachel one happy publisher.
    This
Grande Dames
story was really turning into something.
    “The great irony, Paige, is that the favor I wanted to ask you has to do with another woman on that ridiculous show.” She went on, interrupting my reverie and dreams of issues flying off the shelves. She shook her head. “I’ve really been grande damed this morning.”
    I typed that into my phone—
Grande Damed
would make a great title for the article, maybe even to put on the cover.
    “I’m surprised they didn’t try to get you on the show,” I said, without thinking.
    Athalie looked at me as if I had completely lost my mind. “I would
never
expose myself to public ridicule in such a fashion,” she said, her voice dripping icicles. “I cannot imagine what kind of character flaw one would have to have in order to do so.” She finished her Mimosa and mixed herself another. “Rebecca’s excuses are just that— excuses. She’s an exhibitionist, of course. I’ve no doubt that horrible husband of hers made her have her breasts enlarged to the point of caricature, but he’s been gone over a year— why doesn’t she have them removed? Because she
likes
being looked at, that’s why. She is doing a good job running that company, I’ll give her that, but how could she she honestly think she was going to be depicted as a smart, competent, successful