Lies and Love in Saint Paris

By Constance Cupps

At the age of thirty-five, Lori Montgomery is trapped in an all-consuming corporate career that leaves her longing for a more satisfying lifestyle. When her Aunt Celeste dies, she is summoned to tiny Saint Paris, Ohio, to settle her aunt's considerable estate. As Celeste's last living relative, Lori is poised to inherit everything her aunt left behind, but first she must fulfill her aunt's mysterious final wishes.

Lies and Love in Saint Paris by Constance Cupps follows Lori's progress as she delves into her aunt's journals and other writings to learn more about her aunt and discover what is required of her. She learns as much about herself as she does about her aunt, transforming in the process from unhappy junior executive to cheerful small-town resident, and in the process falling into the arms of the very man that Aunt Celeste chose for her to love and marry.

Constance Cupps takes her place among the extraordinary storytellers of romance fiction with her debut novel, set in the author's hometown of Saint Paris, Ohio, where she grew up and still lives. Constance is presently writing her second novel.

• Language: English
• Publisher: SturdyGrace Services
• Release date: Dec 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466062221

Constance Cupps

Constance Cupps takes her place among the extraordinary storytellers of romance fiction with her debut novel, Lies and Love in Saint Paris (previously published as Lost but Not Forgotten). The author grew up in Saint Paris and still lives there with her husband Jim. Constance is presently writing her second novel. Author's photograph by MB Images, Urbana, Ohio. www.mbimages.net

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Lies and Love in Saint Paris

Constance Cupps

Copyright © 2012 Constance Cupps

Cover art by Sarah Dwyer

Copyright © 2011 Sarah Dwyer

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author. Find this ebook at Smashwords by clicking on the following link:

http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/CarrolStrain

This book is dedicated to my wonderful husband, Jim, my best friend and my soul mate. Thank you, Jim, for alwaysbeing there for me. And to our children, James W., Sheila Ann, and Cynthia Lee. I am so very proud of all of you.

~~~

Heart's Desire

Oftentimes we lay aside

Those things we hold most dear

Confident there'll be time enough

To again, draw them near.

Oh how bitter are the tears

When we reach out at last

Only to find the sands of time

Have trickled through our grasp.

But blessed are the broken-hearted

For love is most forgiving

And we learn to embrace those things

That make life worth living.

~ Gayla Bumgarner

~~~

Contents

Chapter One: All Work, No Play

Chapter Two: Celestial Changes

Chapter Three: The Crossroads

Chapter Four: The Choice

Chapter Five: Making It Real

Chapter Six: Celestine's Attic

Chapter Seven: My Aunt's Journals

Chapter Eight: Chiropractic Adjustment

Chapter Nine: A Walk in the Park

Chapter Ten: The Writing Life

Chapter Eleven: Aunt Celeste's Final Wishes

~~~

Chapter One: All Work, No Play

Lori! Lori, wake up!

The voice that called to me seemed so familiar, and yet I did not recognize it. All the same, I drifted up from the deep sleep it roused me from, opened my eyes, and looked around my familiar bedroom. I checked the time on the clock on the nightstand. In only five more minutes the alarm would go off anyway. I blew my nose and wiped the tears from my eyes, feeling oddly shaky, then stretched and yawned and turned off the alarm. My God, I was sweaty! What was that dream I had been having, anyway?

I had been driving down the streets of a pretty little town, and all was quiet and peaceful. In my dream I drove past well-kept early Victorians with beautiful lawns and lovely landscaping, set back from the street behind stately oaks and elms. I felt more peaceful, happy, and content than I had ever felt before. I parked my car in front of an inviting little store and got out. I walked down the sidewalk, wandered aimlessly in and out of little shops. People spoke to me and seemed to know me, although I recognized no one. I nodded and smiled at each person I met.

Suddenly, an angry-looking woman walked right up to me. She held her face so close to mine I could feel her breath on my cheek. It's about time you got here! I thought you were lost! What took you so long? I felt as if I should have known her, and her words cut me like knives. Crying and sobbing, I ran down the street and up the front steps of a large two-story yellow house, yanked open the front door and rushed inside. I closed the front door and leaned against it, breathing hard and with heart beating fast.

That's where the dream ended, every time. The dream's intensity and vividness increased with each occurrence, and each time I woke up sweaty and shaking, feeling scared and lonely. Each time that oh-so-familiar and yet unrecognizable voice called me to wakefulness, and I would awaken with a sense of missing something, but I didn't know what that something could be.

Well. No time to worry about it this morning. That jerk Robert had the nerve to call an eight o'clock meeting for this morning, and I would have to hurry to be there on time. Just because he was an early riser didn't mean he had to make the rest of us jump through our hoops, I fumed, but he seemed to relish any and every opportunity to make his coworkers the littlest bit uncomfortable.

I hopped into the shower, lathered my hair, shaved my legs. I had already picked out my outfit for the day, a cute little skirt that fit me just right and a blouse I had purchased on sale the week before. My good old tan blazer would have to do to round it all out. I remembered I would have to switch purses so that my shoes would match, but I was a pro at that, could move everything from one bag to the other in less than a minute flat. Makeup, hair, no time for breakfast. Maybe Robert's assistant would have some pastries brought in for the meeting, but just in case, I stopped and bought a small cappuccino on the way, and it was a good thing I did, because there were no goodies to be had at the meeting.

I met Joanie for lunch, as usual, in the company cafeteria. I ordered my usual salad, with low-fat vinaigrette on the side, and she did the same. How'd it go this morning with Robert? she asked as we sat down.

Oh, you know. The usual. He pranced and preened like a peacock, took all the credit for any work anyone else had done. But the project should get done on time anyway. I guess that's all I should care about, but it still rubs me the wrong way.

I know what you mean. This company is full of people like him, mostly men. Do you think it's any accident they're all somewhere near the top while we languish in middle management?

Accident? I groaned. Of course not. But let's please, please, please, just talk about something else. I'm starting to get that headache again.

I thought you were going to see a doctor about that, she began, but I interrupted her.

I did. She couldn't find anything, just gave me a prescription I don't want to take.

Why not? She's a professional. Don't you think she knows what she's doing?

Joanie and I often did this kind of thing with each other, this nagging, mothering kind of loving interchange, but we didn't let it get out of hand. When the chips were down, Joanie was the best friend I had ever had. I didn't know how I had managed life before I met her, couldn't imagine life without her in it. I just don't want to get addicted to anything is all I'm saying, I answered. And I really would like to know exactly why this headache keeps coming back no matter what I do.

It's probably because you're unhappy with your life, deep down, she answered through a mouthful of leafy greens.

I don't know about that, I replied. I've worked hard to get where I am in life. I'm not about to throw it all aside on a whim. I considered telling Joanie about my dream just then, but Alex from Payroll and Marjorie from Accounting sat down at a nearby table, and I was afraid they would overhear.

Joanie arched one of her beautiful eyebrows and inclined her head in their direction as they sat down. I cocked my head to one side and rolled my eyes, just barely, meaning no, I did not think they were an item just because they sat together in the lunchroom. That's kind of how it was for Joanie and me. We didn't have to say too much out loud sometimes. Worlds could get communicated between us with hardly a sound, with the merest of gestures. Joanie shrugged. We finished our lunch, each of us finishing off our meal with a paper cup of the cafeteria's finest cappuccino before getting back to work.

Joanie and I had met right after college, more than fifteen years before. We had both moved to Atlanta at about the same time, hired one summer in the same wave of brand-new college graduates to work at Bloomsdale's Corporation. We had even worked on our MBAs at the same time, rising surely and steadily up the corporate ladder at about the same rate, although in different departments. She was in Art; I was in Marketing, but we were both good at what we did, taking great pride in our work, rejoicing with each other over each small victory and commiserating together when the inevitable rough days rolled through.

Bloomsdale's was one of the biggest marketing and advertising agencies in the country, and we both felt fortunate and a little smug to have landed there, as the company had a reputation for choosing only the brightest and most talented. The perks, however, did not come free, and a great deal was required of anyone working there. Long hours, sometimes twelve to fourteen a day, six days a week, depending on the season. Deadlines were taken very seriously and were never, ever to be missed. Dedication and loyalty to the company were valued by senior management over any other qualities and were essential to corporate success. I managed a team of twelve in Marketing, and Joanie was in charge of ten in her department, the kids, as we called them when she and I were alone together and we were sure no one else could overhear.

After work, we often met to go to the gym together, and this particular evening was no exception. Everyone knows that looks, at least for women, are a big part of success in business, and neither of us was about to let our looks slide, not for a moment. Thus the salads at lunch, workouts three times a week, mutual fashion consulting when required. It was all a part of maintaining the image. Joanie and I continued the chit-chat we had started at lunchtime as we strode determinedly side-by-side on the treadmills. Other evenings might have found us in kick-boxing or yoga classes. After an hour we called it quits and headed off to our separate apartments after a quick hug on the sidewalk in front of our cars.

Tomorrow's Thursday, Joanie said as she headed toward her car. Want to meet up for dinner and a movie after work?

Sure. Why not? I replied. Might as well. That's what we always did on Thursdays. I hadn't had a date in months and neither had she. According to Joanie, men just mess up our schedule.

We can decide tomorrow at lunch which restaurant and what movie, okay?

Sure, I repeated. As I drove away, I reflected that as much as I loved Joanie, I couldn't help but wish now and then for a good-looking, thoughtful man. Maybe that's it, I mused. Maybe my standards were too high. And I couldn't help but reflect again on my dream. What, exactly, was my subconscious trying to tell me with that recurring dream? What was it that I was missing in the dream and in my life? Was it a man? A husband? Children?

My apartment was exactly as I had left it that morning, a little cluttered, a little barren, and more than a little lonely. I had always meant to get around to more decorating, but work consumed my life. There just never seemed to be time enough to shop for and add little touches of comfort to my home, despite the fact that I had lived in the same apartment since I moved to Atlanta fifteen years earlier. A cleaning lady came in once a week to keep it decent and sanitary, but other than that I exerted no expense or effort to make my home my own. Not even a cat graced my life; I certainly had no time for a pet, not even a pet that required minimal care.

It's not that I had had no experience with men at all; that was certainly not the case. I had dated a bit in college, although my studies always came first back then. I was determined to make it in life, figured I would have plenty of time for men later, after I had earned my degree. But the men just never seemed to show up at the right time, in the right place. Or the men I met seemed too immature, too shallow. Before I knew it, I was in my thirties, and the desirable men I knew were suddenly all married or otherwise unavailable. Then there was Mark.

I met Mark at one of those annual mandatory classes Bloomsdale's required of middle management. Joanie met Jim at the same class, and the four of us started hanging out together in the evenings. The classes were always held over a couple of weeks in the spring at different locations around the country, and they offered a great opportunity to meet other Bloomsdale's executives from other parts of the country and other departments. The class where Joanie and I met Jim and Mark was held in Dallas, and since Mark had been there before, he offered to show us all the sights in the evenings. Mark's thick, dark hair was extremely attractive, and his dark brown eyes completely melted my defenses. One thing led to another, and we ended up sleeping together, sometimes in his room and sometimes in mine. He was very sexually experienced, but I didn't want to mess up a good thing by questioning him about it, and I found myself opening up to him emotionally as I had never before done with a man.

I didn't ask