Things of the Earth: Book 4 Part-I: Sparrow Wars in the Garden of Bliss: a La Barre Family Saga

By C. A. Portnellus

Love and marriage for Barton and Elise Barre began in the oilfields of Texas. With Barts innovative drill designs, financial backing from friends, and a hearty appetite for making money, the Barre Oil Drilling and Engineering (BODE) office has now moved to Austin Texas. With his beautiful and talented wife, Elise, Bart feels he is fast gaining his dreamto be a wealthy oil baron.

Elise keeps everything running like a well-oiled machine, as a wife, mother and business partner in BODE. This keeps Bart happy and his happiness is hers. Together, they often have times of intense love and a good partnership. As Barts lucky star, Elise helps to build his dream.

During the days which seem wonderful, enters the fateful snake creeping into their idyllic garden of bliss. Perhaps it is the La Barre family curse wreaking havoc with friends, family, and business partners. Barton and Elise are separated for a time which begins the tragedy of the summer of 1950. Each try to gain back that magical momentum they had before everything fell apart.

This is part one of the fourth book of the multi-generational La Barre family saga, Sparrow Wars in the Garden of Bliss.

Readers acclaim for the La Barre Family Saga series:

Prelude to War-[Barton Barre] He is by far the most refreshing character here: unruly, gutsy and disgusted with his family.Kirkus Reviews

Legends of War- The book has drawn me forward with anticipation and reward. A good read. Thank you so much. ReaderJRF, London, England

The Road Home- Charming. Real. Cultured Elise is beautiful and Barton is a rogue and driven obsessively to succeed. He quickly puts his war-time heroics to the side to attain all he desires. Reader S.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: May 20, 2016
• ISBN: 9781480801974

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Copyright © 2016 C.A. Portnellus.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. This book contains adult language and sexual situations.

Archway Publishing

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Bloomington, IN 47403

www.archwaypublishing.com

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Cover, interior design and art by C. A. Portnellus

Cover Photos:

Glory Road

Radio tea time

Pumping

Murder Mayhem

Sparrow Wars Border Ribbon

Spine: Kissing Birds

Title Page: For Love of Oil and Money

Some images by © Thinkstock.com

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

ISBN: 978-1-4808-0196-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-0197-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016906441

Archway Publishing rev. date: 05/20/2016

CHAPTERS

DEDICATION

PROLOGUE

Part I—Dragon’s Blood

1.   When I First Came Here

2.   Texas Tea

3.   Monsters

4.   Two-Stepping

5.   Hustler

6.   Reverent

7.   Afterlife

8.   When Life Gives You Lemons

9.   Love’s Conundrum

10.   A House Divided

11.   When Midnight Comes

12.   A Hunting We Will Go

13.   Impatient As The Wind

14.   Maelstrom

15.   Torment

16.   Dirty Deeds

Part II—Stone Walls

17.   Farewell Love’s Bliss

18.   Action Plan

19.   Lost and Found Love

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Excerpt from Things of the Earth—Part II

About The Books And Author

DEDICATED TO

Mom and Dad

My second Mom and Dad,

Our parents—the many builders of the Baby Boom.

PROLOGUE

PART I

Dragon’s Blood

Under the hill lies a heart of blackness,

Whispering and mocking in wicked glee

Beckoning a fool to smite for less—

When seeking his riches to possess.

Man’s spearing lance to the beating

Dragon’s heart—a well of blood fleeting.

The plundered prize spouts like a fountain

From beneath that venerable mountain.

Rising to the celestial skies,

Man’s dream and avarice he espies,

A treasure, beyond measure at long last—

Thus dies the bitter dark heart of ages past.

The sin of greed ruins all and leaves the Fools

Laughing, like Jackals champing the spoils.

Yet, who will cry for the dying beast?

Shall we weep for what is forever lost?

C. A. Portnellus

CHAPTER 1

When I First Came Here

BODE Camp 4

Piñon Hills, Texas

December 20, 1949

B arton and Elise Barre hiked through the winter-dry fields surveying their kingdom of rolling hills dotted with piñon, loblolly pines, oaks and scrub. The sky above chased with clouds, was pale gray matching Barton’s eyes. The chill wind brought fresh color to their cheeks. The whine of six oil pumps could be heard even at this distance, the oddly shaped things bobbing up and down much like Baby Francis’s dunking bird toy. Elise passed Francis to her husband as they stopped on the crest of the hill.

I came across a poem this morning, it seems rather appropriate for the day. Do you want to hear it?

Gazing far across the landscape, Bart nodded absently and shifted the toddler on a hip. "Voila! Les canards!" He pointed up to a vee of clacking ducks flying southward, causing Francis to clap his little mitten-clad hands with glee.

Elise took out the small ragged book from her jacket pocket, "This is by Edward Thomas, titled, ‘When I First Came Here’." She cleared her throat and read aloud,

"When I first came here I had hope, hope for I knew not what.

Fast Beat my heart at the sight of the tall slope …"

Bart heard the words, letting them run through his head and back out, Elise’s voice like crystal cutting through his foggy brain in the cold morning.

"… Would see something no other hill ever disclosed.

And now I walk down it the last time. Never will …"

He knew that he had made an impact upon this land, by searching out oil, the heretofore undiscovered treasure that he had brought forth, something new, yet an ancient thing. In doing so, he had given men hope for another chance to make their mark upon the earth and to prosper by their weary endeavors of devotion, sweat and toil. He sighed with satisfaction now—this was his land. Those bobbing giants were now working for him sucking up liquid money from the earth.

He felt the darkness that had followed him for the past three years easing for he was growing richer by bounds and leaps. His indebtedness to Lawrence Neville was growing less, and the man’s interference in his business lessened as well. Neville had become confident in Barton again. A somewhat wary but distant friendship had sparked again between them—especially once Barton learned the important lesson, that if not for Neville, none of this … this business of Bart’s would never exist or survive. He would be just another optimistic grubby wildcatter, with a skeleton crew trying to make it on sheer luck and perseverance. Neville’s agent, Charlie Grande oversaw Barton’s debt payment and Jordan Lindley reviewed BODE’s employees, making adjustments in getting Barton the best men in the industry. Barton’s company was on the way up.

Perhaps there was something to the La Barre family curse. Barton was a third son and his luck once again seemed to be pushing him up from the bad and dark days, rising again like a new Phoenix. His father, Richard had wished him well but warned Bart not to race too far too fast or he might be sorry. Ha! What did the old man know?

"My heart beat so again at the sight

Of any hill although as fair …"

He spied Elise still innocently reciting the poem. Never in a million years, would he admit to her, about Neville’s interference nor in how Bart nearly lost, BODE. He wanted her only to know that he was successful. He would provide for her and their new family … even if it killed him. He had promised her and his father-in-law, Édouard Boulanger. It was something Barton very rarely did, for making a promise was an uncomfortable leash for him. He was prideful too; that he was a success, for his father could no longer touch him or deride him, always expecting Barton to fail or run away.

He glanced at young Francis in his arms, another chain keeping Barton tethered to Elise. Damn her! If not for the child, they might have traveled more and Barton could have already been dealing with foreign oil negotiations for Neville. But Elise needed him, and so Barton stayed mostly in Texas and the panhandle states working his business for now.

The child was apple-cheeked; his wispy light red curls framed his little face reminding Bart of himself. The boy’s hazel eyes were bright and round as he took in the scenery and giggled to see another phalanx of ducks heading towards the lake on the other side of the hill. On an unusual fleeting gush of raw emotion, Bart hugged the child to him and reached for Elise as she recited the last lines with a teary smile.

"One thing I may know, that love with chance and use and time and necessity

Will grow, and louder the heart’s dance at parting than at meeting be."

CHAPTER 2

Texas Tea

Austin, Texas

Thursday, February 2, 1950

I hid my love in field and town

Till e’en the breeze would knock me down.

The bees seemed singing ballads o’er,

The fly’s bass turned a lion’s roar;

And even silence found a tongue,

To haunt me all the summer long;

The riddle nature could not prove

Was nothing else but secret love.

T he morning sun streamed into the windows of the Barre Oil Drilling and Engineering office, painting bright splashes of light across the black and white tiled floor and the new black upholstered Danish Modern furniture. The sunlight also revealed all the places that needed dusting in the front office. Elise looked up from her book of poetry as the ray of light slowly moved across the room to blind her. She set aside John Clare’s poem to address nature herself. Blinking in the glare, she rose up from the front desk, crossed to the big window partially closing the venetian blinds, directing the sunshine towards the ceiling. She then stood in front of the glass door staring absently outside.

The day was a bright bird’s egg blue, with a few mottled gray and white scudding clouds chased by high winds. Spindly young trees outside in the parkway were tossing about restlessly in the wind. Bits of paper, leaves and dust gamboled across the new blacktopped parking lot in loopy circles in front of the office park. The main street was busy with the morning traffic, but their lot was empty except for her pale yellow Rambler Nash wagon, and Barton’s company car, a white Fleetmaster wagon. She turned away from the view, went to the metal credenza by her desk, where there was a perking coffee pot and a hot pot of water, she made a cup of tea for herself, then set it aside to steep.

Elise took out a polishing cloth, furniture dusting spray and a feather duster from the cabinet in the credenza. She set about the task of dusting everything in the office, even chasing out the tiny spider that started making a web overnight in the corner between the tall rubber plant and the blinds. Elise opened the door and stepped out to shake out the duster along with the spider.

She finished dusting and polished the new dark wood furniture, wishing that Barton had agreed with her on buying a lighter color wood and upholstery. The black tweed fabric showed every piece of lint, and the dark wood revealed every speck of dust. Barton liked the modern lines and the black and white contrasts of the furniture and tiled floors. Everything was black and white with him.

Elise smiled to think of her husband, everything he wore for business was black and white; he bought three of the same cuts of expensive business suits—all in black. He wore only white crisply pressed dress shirts. Elise laughed at the irony—Barton could shower, shave, and be dressed in twenty minutes and look neat and ready to go, while she prevaricated about what she would wear today. What was the weather? Did she need a sweater, and did it match? It always made for interesting mornings, thus, she had resolved to get up earlier than Barton did.

She would rise first, go to the kitchen and start the coffee. She could then bathe, have time to get dressed, apply her makeup, do her hair, after which she woke Barton for his turn in the bathroom. While he attended his toilette, Elise woke up Francis, got him cleaned, dressed, put him in his chair with a cup of milk, took a cup of coffee to Barton, and then returned to finish making breakfast and their lunches. Barton would appear ready for his meal. Everyone ate. He kissed Elise and left to go ahead of her to the office. She remained to clean up the breakfast dishes and set aside something for dinner that night. Then she would pack up Francis with his books, toys and things to occupy him at the office. It was only a difference of thirty minutes, but it made all of the difference in their mornings. Barton was no longer grumpy or antsy waiting for Elise and Francis and it gave him time before the office opened to gather his thoughts for the day.

Elise shook her head to think of all of the things she did in those two hours before she showed up here in time to open the office promptly at 8:00 a.m. while Bart only rolled out of bed, cleaned up, dressed, ate and left. Everything was for him every morning. She sighed, that was her life with Barton; she had gotten used to it. Thinking of him, she poured another fresh cup of coffee and took it in to him.

54549.png

Sitting at his drafting table, Barton reviewed land maps and petrology survey studies for their next project. He had taken his jacket off, and sat in his shirtsleeves with them folded neatly to his elbows. He hated to get his cuffs smudged with the graphite and ink from the plans. He looked up briefly as Elise stood near the table, smiled shallowly and accepted the coffee. He sat moodily staring at the maps. It seemed she could tell he was concerned about something; she patted his broad shoulder and began to turn away.

Barton put his arm around Elise’s waist, drawing her into his side as he sipped the hot fresh brew.

He asked, Do you think we can draw enough business here, Elise? I mean, we were out in the middle of the oil fields before, now we are here tucked away in a city away from the action.

Yes, I do. Let your engineering, survey and drilling teams stay on site, where they can do the work. You are the heart and brains of this company, you no longer need to be out in the fields digging or trudging about. You have this office now to make the company look professional, a worthy place for clients to come make deals and plan with you. I think we will do fine here. You just need to get the word out, Barton. She said sounding confident and assured.

You may be right. Prideful, he looked around his office, It is tidy thanks to you Elise, and better appointed than most field offices we’ve had before. But it’s a big risk taking the lease on this office space in a new business park here in Austin. Charlie Grande was surprised by my suggestion to make our office here. If anywhere, I should have moved us to Houston and been closer to him, major business and our investors. He felt her intake of breath and hastily continued.

I know you don’t want to live in Houston. Nevertheless, I think it was worthwhile to move you out of the crappy little house we rented near Bastrop. And we certainly couldn’t live with the three of us in our trailer.

He bought Elise a spacious modern ranch-style home in a newer subdivision here in Austin. He often used their old trailer when he had to go on site for more than a day. The trailer had loyally served its purpose since 1945.

Here, there were schools and stores, and civilization where they could raise their family. Francis would be going to school in September this year. Barton knew Elise was right. Francis needed a school and friends, and a family life, not raised in the dirt, like oil camp vagabonds. Barton was tired of the dirty life too.

I want our life to be good because I promised it to you. As your sister Elaine once pointed out, you do not deserve to be dragged about from place to place, and living in the crummy oil field camps. While you have been a good sport about it, we have a kid now to think about. He smiled up at her.

Elise nodded and kissed his forehead. Thank you. I am glad you agree.

Bart’s new drill-head assembly designs were starting to be accepted, they had been proven, and he was finally making real money, with more investors, it was a small gain, along with the increasing revenues from his wells. But anything up was better than the other way, and he shuddered to think of how closely he might have lost this business only a few years ago. He had been too avaricious and overly confident thus putting himself into great debt with his investors, namely Nathan Lawrence Neville.

Barton had risked his life saving the former British Captain in Germany during the last war. He himself, nearly did not survive that debacle, and was for three months noted as MIA, presumed dead, leaving his family in Texas in emotional shambles. Neville although a deeply scarred man was now his secret benefactor, mentor and ghostly part-owner of BODE, although he was rarely silent if Barton was inept.

Suddenly Barton felt as if things would be fine, especially with Elise by his side. His mind sped away counting their years together. She had turned out to be an asset. At first she was a problem that had caused a great deal of conflict in their early marriage—she was beautiful, and a great distraction and temptation to the men in the oil camps. Barton constantly had to protect her or his right of her, with verbal arguments, fistfights, and sometimes firing men, because they had gotten too close, infringing on his property—his wife. That’s when he put her up in the little house off-site near the tiny burg of Bastrop.

Now she was here in the office with him, and she was again very good to work with. Elise was efficient, she typed quickly and accurately, often correcting his spelling and grammar, much to his chagrin. At first, he had been angry that a girl who had not graduated from high school should correct him, a college graduate, but he realized she was usually right. He had married a very smart, shrewd young woman, who had both brains and beauty. Besides, it was his fault for whisking Elise away into marriage before she finished school. But for Bart, it had all worked out.

Barton impulsively hugged her close, surprising Elise. I am glad you are with me, Elise. He looked up at her seeing her enigmatic ‘Mona Lisa smile’. "I promise you, I will make this business a success, bébé. Your daddy will be proud that you married me, you’ll see."

Bart, honey, you don’t need to make my daddy proud. He knows I love you, we have a nice family, and he is happy that I am content. That is all a father wants, to know his children are safe and content. You’ll feel that one day too when Francis is ready to go away, you will want what he needs to have a good life. She sighed wistfully, I just wish we could take a few days to see my folks in Louisiana. Sending pictures of Francis just doesn’t seem enough. Mom and Dad have never seen him. And we should see your folks too, honey. Richard’s last letter asked us to come. Let’s take a few days and go. Please?

You know I am too busy right now. I need you here. Barton said gruffly looking away from her and not caring to argue about that subject again.

I know you said that … still, I miss them all. She sighed wistfully.

"Are you content Elise? Do I truly make you happy?" Concerned, Barton searched her lovely face, liking how she always looked so flawless, ebony hair in a French twist with her curly bangs framing her face. She felt so wonderful in his arms. He had definitely chosen the perfect woman for his wife and business partner.

Elise stroked his face tenderly. She smoothed his curly rusty hair. Bart felt she loved him more, knowing that he cared. He rarely said or offered his true deepest feelings; it was too embarrassing sharing them with Elise. Yet, he relished hearing her reassurances that she loved him.

Yes, I am. I love you Barton, you do make me happy, and I hope I do the same for you.

Oh you do. He said, kissing her, lingering at her neck, Especially last night. I woke up this morning with a smile on my face, how about you? He teased her, squeezing her hip tightly.

Yes. Elise said briskly and blushing, Now, you had better get back to work and stop flirting with your secretary, Mister Boss Man. She kissed him quickly and pulled out of his lingering grasp, taking his dirty, empty coffee cup with her.

Barton felt good. Sipping the new coffee he watched Elise walk away, her slim blue skirt swishing enticingly, even after a baby she had the figure of a beauty queen. With a new surge of confidence, he said boastfully, "I promise I will work day and night to make this business a big, BIG success! You will want for nothing."

Elise picked up Francis from the couch where the boy had been taking a nap. She stopped at the door of his office, with Francis on her hip, who wiped his face sleepily. She looked back at him, her voice was very measured and scarily calm.

Just do not forget to come home to me, Barton, remember where your heart and your bed both lie. That will be enough for me. She closed the door softly after her.

Barton felt stunned by her words. The benevolent mood of before was now fading. What in hell, did she mean by that? He sat for a few minutes to think about the weight of her words.

Elise was always so dramatic and often eerily correct in her pronouncements, and so idealistic, yet pragmatic. Barton was often caught off-guard feeling confused by her comments and see-sawing moods. Now he wondered if she was in one of her high spirits and was picking a fight.

Did I do anything stupid today? Did I forget something?

He sprang up and opened the office door quickly, expecting Elise to be at the door with a sly catty smile on her face, waiting for him to take up her challenge. He had a surge in his gut and loins ready to meet her fully. However, she was not. Instead, she was sitting at her desk with Francis on her lap.

Elise looked up, Did you need something, Bart?

She looked innocent and put down a blue crayon. Francis saw him and squirmed off her lap, running with a green crayon in his hand to hug his leg. Daddy! Daddy! Look-it!

Barton hunkered down to the child. What have you got there, boy? He smiled at the big grin on Francis’s face. I see. Is green your favorite color? he asked trying to be interested.

Yes. Francis said solemnly, his big hazel eyes gazed up at Barton.

What are you coloring with your crayons? Do you want to show me? he asked following Elise’s earlier suggestions to be patient with the boy and engage him in conversation. You know, I used to like to draw and paint.

Yes. Francis said shyly and turned away, returning to his mother to crawl in her lap. He enthusiastically pointed to something on the desk. Look-it, Daddy.

Elise smiled up at him, watching Barton’s face.

Leaning on the desk, he viewed the paper with big green scribbled swirls and some black stick-like marks; there were blue circular loops and a large yellow lopsided shape. Barton gave Elise a wry wrinkle of his brow, looking confused.

Ask Francis what it is. she whispered in his ear.

So Francis, what have you drawn here? he asked patiently.

Trees. He said simply.

And? Elise coached.

That’s the wind. Francis said pointing to a blue scribble, Woo-oo. He blew like the wind then laughing, he made some more blue scribbles.

That is the sun then? Barton queried pointing to the yellow shape.

No, Daddy! He giggled, That’s mommy’s car! Francis picked up the drawing. He held it up looking at it from varying angles smiling and proudly admiring his efforts.

Barton stood up laughing and shaking his head. Very nice Francis. Maybe you will be the next Picasso when you grow up! I have to get back to work now. He patted the boy on the head and turned away.

Bart, did you want something when you came out? Elise asked as she saw her husband retreat.

He turned briefly then came back. Just this. He kissed Elise’s upturned face, winked and went back into his office without shutting the door.

Elise felt surprise by his remark and the kiss. He was being quite affectionate today. She normally had to suffer his brusqueness and desultory conversations or monosyllabic answers. He kept his affections for home at night. She saw that Bart was amused by Francis and their brief family interlude.

… and a little child shall lead them. Elise quoted softly as she smoothed back the rusty curls from her son’s forehead. She turned her attention back to her son who was engaged in creating another work of art, this time with a red crayon.

54551.png

Monday, March 13, 1950

The second phone line rang, lighting up just as Elise deftly transferred the first call to Barton’s office. She answered it swiftly then asked them to hold for a moment. She got up and tapping softly on Bart’s door went in. She waited for a moment then motioned that he had another call on line two. By the time, she got back to her desk, line one was blinking on hold and Barton was now talking on line two. She seated herself at the desk. She would talk to Barton about getting another line installed. Their office had become quite busy during the last month. Not only was new business coming in, but also there were increased calls coming in from the engineering division and drilling crews, another well was recently added to their expanding list.

Elise wanted to suggest that they create some pamphlets and a presentation package about their company and its services. She knew she could take over many of the calls who were curious investors, or prospective customers, by giving them the basic information and setting up appointments with Barton. Barton could then sell them the final package deal and Elise would write up the contracts.

For now, Barton was doing everything. He sometimes felt frazzled and was overworked. She also wanted to suggest he bring in one of their project engineers, to help with the consultations. Another man was needed here so Bart would have less need of constantly running out to a site for inspection or engineering concerns. He was still the busy ‘Sarge’, ready to dive into all phases of the projects and answer the hundreds of questions and concerns that occurred daily.

They had three offices in their new suite, plus the kitchenette and bathroom. Elise had encouraged Barton to rent this larger office space, feeling that they would soon outgrow the office suite with the singular space he wanted. Now it was starting to move forward, she could feel the momentum of the business like a locomotive steaming ahead from a railway station into a bright destiny.

Barton spent a few hectic weeks to meet with new customers and investors, marketing the business. He placed ads in the Austin, Houston, and Dallas newspapers and some trade magazines, all ads of Elise’s making. The Barres and their business were no longer struggling except to take a breath from their busy days.

With the end of the war, people needed jobs and big commerce was moving forward at a rapid pace. Although there was talk that troubles with China and Korea were brewing. She hoped Barton would not get called up to serve again. She shook her head of the worry and thought about the positives recently gained.

She had a lovely house, new furniture and clothes, and a happy, healthy child. Why, just in their neighborhood alone, they had witnessed a growth spurt of newly constructed houses and neighbors moving in along with new schools, shopping areas and supermarkets. Their part of Austin was no longer just dry hills, trees and brush; it had quickly become a viable breathing community. The markets were full of food; department stores offered a plethora of things not seen in years during the war. No ration tickets. Life in America and certainly in her part of the world in Austin Texas was booming.

In spite of the busy days, Elise missed Francis now. She put him in a new pre-school and daycare, because she was too busy to watch him every second. She felt Francis was better off in the school, he was making friends and she could see his mind was engaged in more activities than she could provide here in the busy office. Francis, a clever intelligent boy was prospering under the tutelage of his teacher Miss Jacobs. She said he was so very curious about everything and wanted to learn all he could.

However, after two weeks Elise was to learn there was one aspect of her son that she should be concerned about—he was emotionally clingy. Mrs. Gordon the other teacher in his class said Francis would cry despondently for at least two hours after Elise dropped him off. It very nearly broke her heart when she had to pull him away from her each morning and hand him over to the teacher. The teachers said he disrupted the class each day, and the older children called him a ‘crybaby’. Sometimes Elise wondered if there was something wrong with the class or the teachers because Francis was not normally so upset when left with a babysitter or friend. She decided to make a surprise visit to his class one day soon.

Elise sighed and turned away from the little picture Francis had drawn of trees and the wind. She had framed it and hung it on the wall behind her desk. It made her think of him when she looked at it and that simple but special family moment.

He would be four in September. Francis was reading from his favorite books with assistance from Elise. He knew his letters and numbers to twenty-five. Elise helped him to write his name. His small fingers were clumsy with the crayons and pencils, but she saw he understood how to make the letters. Francis was persistent in his attempts to write the characters properly, even though they were often a jumbled uneven mess. Bart joked that Francis had inherited his sloppy penmanship gene! Elise knew it would just be for a short time before he was better; after all, he was only three and a half!

She also felt her son had artistic talents for he often colored with the proper colors for objects. He seemed to be aware of unusually small things, which others might not notice. He looked at the world with big wide eyes and took everything in silently assessing the information. Then he would surprise Barton and her, one day babbling about something in his little boy voice. They would look at each other in awe of their insightful creative and logical little child. However, Francis’s older teacher, Mrs. Gordon, called him impertinent and too inquisitive, sassy, and sometimes argumentative when he would stubbornly stay to an idea. Elise knew she had a unique bright child, her quiet, sweet, caring Francis.

Now her attention drew away from her reverie by the desk phone ringing again. Elise answered and took a message saying Barton was engaged in another call. She saw the line was engaged for some time, and she wondered at it. She looked at her watch, it was nearly one, and they had yet to take a lunch break, it had been one phone call after another since this morning.

She had spent part of the morning typing up new contracts and she wanted to go over them with Bart, there was a mistake in his calculations. She had checked the figures thrice, and knew them to be wrong. Barton usually was very good in his mathematical calculations, and if anything, she was wrong, as higher level math was not her strongest subject in school. Yet she had always kept the books for the family store in Baton Rouge with no problems or errors. Nevertheless, Barton had taught her the algebraic equations to calculate the quotes and today, he was wrong.

Elise went to the small kitchen where there was a refrigerator, sink, and a hotplate, along with a small table and two chairs for them to sit and eat their lunch. She took out the chicken salad sandwiches she had made last night from the refrigerator. She set them on plates with some of her homemade cornichons—garlicky little dill pickles, sliced an apple and took the lunch in to Barton’s office. She left it on his desk.

Several minutes went past then Barton came in the kitchenette and joined her with his half-eaten sandwich. He squeezed her hand affectionately, and then devoured his lunch. Elise nibbled on an apple slice ignoring her partly eaten sandwich. She heard the phone ringing again. She made to answer it, swallowing quickly, but Barton put a hand on her arm, staying her.

Let it go. We are at lunch … we gotta eat sometime. I am starved. I wanted to eat my pencil before I could get off the phone with the last long-winded guy. Barton sounded grouchy as he held up a tooth-marked pencil. If they really want to talk with me, they’ll call back. He glanced at Elise’s uneaten lunch. Are you going to finish that? he asked eyeing Elise’s sandwich greedily.

Elise shook her head, and handed Barton the other half. No. I am having tea. The chicken salad doesn’t agree with me. I must have done something wrong when I made it last night. My stomach is giving me the gripes.

Barton finished his half, chewing, he said, It tastes fine to me. He snagged the other piece. Geez, I was starving. He sat back smiling satisfied.

I can see that. Elise said patting the rounded bulge over his belt. She leaned over and kissed Bart on the cheek affectionately.

Elise heard the telephone ring again, but did not rise to answer it. I wonder, now that we are busy, maybe we should bring in Theo Arnold from engineering. Isn’t he your other consultant? Do you think he could help with the customer business meetings and consultations? Elise asked wisely.

No. I need him where he is. He’s good with the field crews. Barton said brusquely stuffing in the last mouthful of sandwich and pickle. He chewed thoughtfully for a minute before he answered. Well he drawled, you do have a point there, Elise. However, I think I would rather have someone here in the office who knows all the sides of the business as I do. What do you think of bringing in Mark Vincenzo? He is actually more knowledgeable, he has good sales sense, can close a deal and he is a top notch draftsman to boot. And you know him; he’s got that charm that makes people say yes, really fast. Barton chomped on a piece of apple while watching Elise.

You know him better than I do. If you think, he would be good … then do it. We can give him one of the offices.

Barton gripped her hand, It will mean more work for you. You know that, right?

Elise shrugged, I can handle it. Most of the time I am just sitting out there at my desk waiting for something to happen, or someone to walk in or the phone to ring.

Sounds like the Army. Hurry up and wait! Barton kissed her cheek looking elated. Holler if it gets to be too much, Elise. Damn, what a good idea this is! I am going to go call Mark right now. Barton bustled away, excited to have a new plan.

Elise smiled wanly—Barton was so obtuse, it was her idea yet it was now his. She dutifully cleaned their luncheon plates. She returned to her desk, feeling better and refreshed that Barton had taken one of her ideas, although she was again troubled.

She knew that Mark really was the best choice, but had not suggested him at first. She had two reasons for her choice. Theo was an older married man with a family, and he lived here in Austin. The second reason, Mark Vincenzo was unmarried, good-looking and had lustily admired Elise when they were in the last camp at Piñon Hills.

She had not told her husband about the attraction, because Mark was an excellent employee, who had made BODE money. Barton truly liked and trusted the man, so much that he was now a ‘silent partner’ in BODE. Elise had dealt with the problematic man herself. In doing so, she had demanded that Barton rent them a house in Bastrop, when Bart wavered to move when they didn’t find much affordable real estate. Her argument, she no longer wanted to live in a trailer! They found an old tiny place in need of much repair. Secretly, she wanted to be away from the surprise visits by Vincenzo, popping up at her trailer, especially when Barton was away. Elise could keep him at bay, when she was working in the camp office for there were other men there. Barton had reluctantly succumbed to her whims, thinking she was sick of the dirt and cooking for the camp. For Elise, since they moved to Austin, Mark Vincenzo was no longer a problem—out of sight, out of mind!

She was now worried though, that working in close confines with him, might start the attraction again. While Elise was devoted to Barton and very married, there had been a slight allure on her part too. She had quelled it fast, before Barton had known anything. She would hope that Mark had found someone in the meantime, and would not be looking for trouble. She hoped too, that she could also remain immune to his cheerful enthusiastic demeanor, charming smile and dark movie-star good looks. Mark Vincenzo greatly reminded Elise of Terrence Dillard, her sister Elaine’s former boyfriend; another dangerous and handsome man who could easily seduce and sway an unwary quarry. She did not want trouble.

Oh dear, Terrence Dillard, he was another bit of trouble, poor Elaine had never gotten over him. Terrence had married someone else before graduating from medical school. Elaine and she no longer spoke much and certainly not about Terrence, for Elaine blamed Elise for it all. If Elise had not married Bart when she did, Elaine and Terrence might have married first. Édouard had finally come to admire and respect the handsome Dillard and was hoping that he would gain a doctor for a son-in-law.

Due to the strain of the prolonged wait of their unofficial engagement and that during their off-times from each other, Terrence was not faithful to Elaine. So Elaine was thrown for a loop when one day Terrence came to her saying he was in trouble. Another woman had born his child and claimed it was his. He had to do the honorable thing and marry her or else he would be sued and his prominent family would be sorely embarrassed and thrown into chaos. Terrence’s father would have lost his partner in his medical practice, if Terry had not married the partner’s daughter. They would be ousted from their Country Club and their society affiliations for his mess. Terrence could not expose his family to that painful ordeal, who had done so much for him already.

In Elise’s opinion, Elaine had not fought hard enough for Terry. Instead, heart-broken Elaine gave up on him. She buried herself into work at the Boulanger’s family store and Café Petit. She had become almost an old maid, staying to herself, she no longer dated or played with her friends, who were mostly all married by now too. Mother and Dad were worried for her.

Elise felt a bit ill at heart, knowing that Elaine had suffered for Elise’s pride. And was it greed in wanting Barton? She had felt at the time that she could not afford to lose him to another woman. Bart too had jealously coveted Elise and pushed for their marriage. Elaine should not be envious of Elise, for their life thus far had not always been easy—filled with strife, stress, and poverty at times, and fearing the stability of their marriage while trying to reach their goals. It had all been difficult. Yet there were days that were wonderful, when Bart was in love with Elise, he was happy in his work. They were gaining in prosperity now; it had to be better times ahead for them.

She made a mental note to write to her parents and maybe one to Elaine. Perhaps send them a photo of Francis. He was such a darling child. But then again, perhaps Elaine was still jealous of all that Elise had—marriage to a handsome and prospering young man, a new home, and best of all—a child of her heart.

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Friday, March 31, 1950

Elise turned away from the filing cabinet to answer the telephone and bumped into Mark when he picked it up after the first ring. He answered briskly and stood watching Elise as he listened to the caller. She was smarting from his neat grab of the phone and the fact that his azure glittering eyes followed her as she slipped past him to go into Barton’s office with the file. Elise seemed to be browsing casually through Barton’s filing cabinet, wasting time waiting for Mark to leave her desk.

He sauntered into Barton’s office.

That was George Wright; he wanted to know if we could meet him tonight for a dinner meeting. He said briskly without any preamble.

Barton echoed, Tonight? What time? he looked up from the file he was reading.

He said six-thirty. Mark sat on the arm of the couch, swinging a long leg idly, waiting for Barton to answer, but watching Elise, with an unctuous smile.

Elise aware of his gaze pulled a file folder and slammed the drawer closed, leaving the office, quickly shutting the door behind her.

I like your secretary, Bart. I am surprised she is working again in the office. Most gals want to stay home with the kids. Why have you been hiding her under your bushel basket? I heard what she’s done for the company. You have one smart cookie there. Have you given her a raise? Mark said appreciatively.

Watch it Vincenzo. That’s my wife you are talking about there. Barton said eying Mark with a silver glare over his file folder.

Yeah, I know. Still, you gotta admit she’s good. Do you know, I gave her a stack of spec notes and contracts to type up this morning and she came back within an hour and handed them back all neat and proper. It would have taken me all day to do it. Mark sat on the sofa finally putting his feet on the coffee table before it.

He persisted with his previous discussion. So what do you want to do about the meeting tonight? George is very interested in our firm and our numbers; he wanted to meet with both of us. He was recommended by Lindley, I think he would be a good asset. Should I call him back and say we’ll meet with him tonight?

Bart now distracted from his thoughts sat up rolling his shoulders and back as if feeling stiff, Uh … yeah, let’s do it. Tell Elise to put together a package, with the new brochure and our contract. We will go in prepared that Wright will say yes. I gotta make a call here and then we can leave to talk about the meeting tonight over a beer. Give me about ten minutes, will you? Barton dismissed Mark by turning away to dig in his file drawer.

With Bart’s interest changing course Mark walked out of the office and quietly shut the door. Elise had her back to him across the room at the credenza. She was cleaning up the coffee buffet, stacking up the cups onto the tray to take them to the kitchen. He slid in behind her, reached around and took the small tray from her. Elise let out a squeak of surprise at his audacious move; and she gave him an elbow jab in the stomach for it.

He let out an ‘oof’, and back-stepped out of her way. Elise was naturally nearly as tall as he was, in heels she towered over Barton and him. He was six-foot, but she was almost eye-to-eye with him as she rounded on him, now angry.

Mark, don’t ever do that! Stop sneaking up on me like that; I almost brained you with the coffee pot. Now get out of my way, I have work to do. She grabbed back the tray and angrily walked away to the kitchen.

Mark wondered if he should follow her and apologize. There was still something about Elise Barre, which made him do silly things when he was around her. He wanted to show off. He wanted to be a gentleman opening doors and doing little things for her. Idiot that he was, Mark would lay down his coat, strew flowers before her and let her walk on him to cross a puddle. He felt nearly that gullible and weak around her. He had thought he would carry in the heavy tray for her. Now he stood dumbly looking after Elise.

God! She was feisty and five-foot ten inches of delicious gorgeous woman! Barton was a lucky man, even though he often joked about his tall lanky wife who matched his own height.

Mark returned to his office and sat at his desk now embarrassed by his boldness and inner thoughts. Working with Elise was going to be both a pleasure and a distressing thing. He hoped he could keep his cool around her.

He knew from experience that Barton was very protective of his wife. He had heard many of the stories around the camps. He did not realize at the time how much he had put