Superficial relationships weaken the spirit. . . . Instead of the sweetness of mutual edification, there is only the clashing of broken gears grinding against each other.
JEANNE GUYON
SHE GETS INTO her Bentley, sinks into the cream-colored leather driver's seat, and pulls the seatbelt over her shoulder. She leans her head out the open window. "Marcus, make sure those weeds along the fence line are taken care of today." She points to the rock wall separating the driveway from the vineyard.
Marcus squints, trying to find the weeds she speaks of. "Yes, Madame. Drive safely."
She rolls up her window and heads down the long drive. She's aware of the smooth asphalt under her tires. So much more pleasing than the annoying crunch of gravel as it was before she had it paved.
Her time in the valley was productive. She considers her accomplishments: She interviewed and retained an attorney, who will act as a representative in the Azul deal should she choose to demand payment of the note. He will work as a private contractor and therefore, Domaine de la Bouvier will remain the anonymous note holder for as long as she chooses. She was pleased with Max's recommendation.
Yesterday, Max drove to the valley and they spent the afternoon going through Gerard's trust one more time. She is now prepared to meet with Jenna. All is in place. She will offer Jenna a generous settlement. There will be, of course, a few stipulations, but if Jenna is wise, she'll concede.
Concede? She laughs. No concession should be necessary. If Jenna's wise, she'll see the offer for what it is—a lifetime of provision and affluence. Should she act like a fool, well then there is the demand note. Her insurance policy.
There are still issues to consider, however. Troubling issues.
Who was the man Hannah reported Jenna was with Saturday evening? Was it Matthew MacGregor? They share an intimacy that was evident both at Gerard's service and in the e-mails they exchange. He is, she is certain, the one influencing Jenna's behavior. Which means, the relationship must end.
A spiritual director? Such nonsense anyway.
She will continue to watch the e-mails between them.
Her thin lips stretch into a smile. Yes, now that she has access to Jenna's e-mail accounts, nothing will get past her. She tested her access on Monday evening by sending Jenna that ridiculous e-mail, then signing into her account.
She thinks of the e-mail she read late last night. Another from Matthew. It's left her baffled. Her grip tightens on the steering wheel, making the prominent blue veins in her hands bulge.
She glances at the clock on the dash—Jenna is with Matthew now.
At a lab?
Why?
Hannah reported that Jenna was feeling better. There was no fever—therefore, no infection. At least that is the assumption. She makes a mental note to see that Jenna gets in to see Dr. Bernard anyway. If the infection is indeed gone, then it is time to have that scar taken care of. It is such an embarrassment.
So, if Jenna is well, why is she at a lab and why has Matthew gone with her?
What is she hiding?
Well, she will figure it out soon enough.
Then there is the other issue revealed in Jenna's e-mails: Andee Bell.
Andee asked for Lightseeker's identity. Lightseeker. She shakes her head. Such foolishness. Jenna seemed firm in her desire to remain anonymous. Good thing, chérie, or you'll find yourself in an indelicate situation. There will be no revealing yourself. Ever! Her anger seethes as it has so many times since reading Jenna's ridiculous posts.
But anger won't serve her well. No, she must remain calm and clear. There is no truth in the gibberish Jenna writes. It's obvious her perspective is skewed. In fact, the posts have her concerned about Jenna's mental stability.
Back to Andee . . . Can she be trusted? The e-mail exchanges between Jenna and Andee are revealing a weakness in Andee, one she hadn't seen before. Knowing another's weakness is always advantageous. She smiles. But she will have to monitor their relationship.
And it will also have to come to an end.
Perhaps it has already taken care of itself. There has been no response to Jenna since Andee's request for her identity. If she's smart, she won't choose to trust Lightseeker.
Know who you're dealing with—in business and in life. A simple rule.
As she winds her way through Sonoma and then across the marshes before Vallejo, she considers Jenna again. By the time she married Gerard, she was certain of Jenna. She was pliable. Teachable. And she saw to it that few others influenced her. There was her father, of course, but he was consumed with his own grief and his business. Which left Jenna, of course, receptive to her attentions.
But in recent years, she's loosened the reins a bit. Let up. Grown complacent where Jenna was concerned. She can see that now. An oversight on her part. But one she must rectify. She's made the necessary adjustments now. Jenna will follow along, as she always has.
They will return to the relationship they had—mutually beneficial and satisfying. She lets out a small, tight sigh. Is it perfect? No. Gerard should still be alive. There should be grandchildren. Jenna should no longer be necessary.
But she is all that's left.
And one must never look back. Instead, one moves on. Looks forward. Makes the best of all circumstances.
Life is simple for those who understand how to work together.
Oui, Jenna is off course.
But she can change that.