The Soubrette, a romantic novella

By Jennifer Daniels Neal

Sassy but sweet, sexy but clean, this novella tackles a big story with Neal's signature humor and swoon-worthy characters. Think Breakfast at Tiffany's meets crime story drama. Book description: Chef Reesie's powerful wink and her delight in all thi

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jennifer Daniels Neal
• Release date: May 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9781737499435

Book preview

Doesn’t He Like To Figure Things Out?

Why do you think he hasn’t called? The cat-eye corners of Reesie’s gigantic, Audrey Hepburn sunglasses seem to be asking the question for her. "I was so sure we’d made a connection. And, gah, those shoulders… She throws her head back—even though she’s driving. And gah, him in that uniform…"

Ginny, Reesie’s more sensible, younger sister, is pushing a pen into the hand of her teal cast to take care of an itch. "Because you were pretending to be coy when he asked for your number, and you told him to figure it out?" She over-annunciates the last phrase for effect.

He’s a cop, Reesie says. "Doesn’t he like to figure things out?"

The razor edge of Reesie’s platinum-blonde bob shifts as she steers into a row of stylish brick townhomes—each one identical with long ebony shutters, and each one attached in groups of three or five.

Maybe he was taught that no means no, Ginny suggests.

"I didn’t tell him no. I gave him the wink. Her eyebrows furrow in incredulity, and then she gasps. What if I’m losing my touch?" Pushing forward, she forms a large O with her mouth and stretches her face to study herself in the rear-view mirror.

Ginny rolls her eyes.

It’s only two in the afternoon, but when the young women pull into Reesie’s driveway, the fancy, iron street lamps are already blazing, tricked into early employment by the ominous storm clouds.

"Hey, when did that one go on the market?" Ginny points to the house that’s connected to her sister’s.

Oh, the man’s health began to decline, so they moved to Florida to live with their son. That’s the first time I’ve seen the for-sale sign.

As rain begins to tap the windshield, Reesie throws the car into park and reaches into the backseat to gather her shopping bags

Don’t you want to park in the garage? Ginny asks.

Can’t. The carpenter’s using it as a workshop. He’s got all his tools and a giant saw in there. Reesie drops her keys into her purse while holding several shopping bags for Ginny to take. When Ginny does not, she glances up to find her sister staring at her blankly.

I forgot, she says, in reference to Ginny’s injured arm.

Must be nice. Ginny reaches over herself to open the passenger door with her left hand and climbs out of her sister’s small car without bumping the limb in question against the doorframe—for the first time today. All the other stops have been accompanied by swear words.

With a flourish, Reesie exits the car and waves her sister around. After you, she says and follows behind, managing her substantial shopping load while balancing on beautiful, impossible heels. "Don’t worry, Gin. You’ll feel better when you see my window nook coming to life from your design. And I’ll feel better when I get to move back into my—humph." She humphs because Ginny has suddenly stopped, and she has bumped into her back. Ginny, go.

Instead, Ginny steps aside to allow Reesie a full view of the man who is posturing on her front stoop. Sadly, it is not the man who hasn’t called.

The inhale Reesie performs is magnificent and seems to leave her immobile. Her ex-boyfriend, Sid comes strutting down the walk. He doesn’t spare a greeting on either of them, but to Reesie he says, Is your phone at the bottom of a lake? He’s trying to make it sound like a joke, but his tone is high-pitched and tethered to his throat, so really it just makes him sound unhinged.

Ginny watches her usually ebullient sister physically cower from the man. Reesie? When she doesn’t respond, Ginny enters the invisible fray on her sister’s behalf. What brings you out on this lovely afternoon, Sid? A crack of thunder underscores the sarcasm.

Sid continues to address Reesie. I’ve been calling you for days, my lamb.

Reesie hates when he calls her that. She’s nothing like a lamb. More of a…bird of paradise. At least, under normal circumstances she is.

Sid’s next words sound less like concern and more like a threat. I was worried something might have happened to you. Where have you been?

Sid, she broke up with you weeks ago, Ginny says. You were barely even going out.

Sid, again, appearing not to hear Ginny, produces a bouquet of red roses from behind his back. Babe, I was calling to apologize. I admit that I acted like a jerk. But you have to answer your phone to know that, right? And stop playing hard to get.

Reesie regains the use of her voice, though she keeps it even and low. I’m not playing. I blocked your number on purpose, because, as I have explained, I don’t want to see you anymore. Her words acquire some energy. And stop sending me things. Since when do you care about the movies I love?

This question seems to stump him. Reesie uses the downtime to step around him, but he cuts her off.

Back in college, Sid was an offensive lineman. He hasn’t lost any bulk since then. He trains continually, and maybe he takes steroids. So, when he moves to bar her path, it’s with the daunting hindrance of a prison wall. Reesie flinches.

Stop it, Sid, Ginny chastises him. This is over. She doesn’t want to talk to you. Come on, Reese. Ginny waves her sister toward the house.

No. We’re going to work this out, Sid declares. You belong to me. I can’t live without you.

You’re delusional, Ginny mutters and immediately receives a check from Sid in the form of a shove.

Stop it! Reesie screeches. She just had surgery!

When Reesie attempts to circumvent Sid for a second time, he jerks her around by the strap of her purse, causing her to wince and stumble.

I am sick of being ignored by you, Sid declares. Do you think I’ve spent all this time and money on you to have you disrespect me like that?

Dude, what is wrong with you? Reesie is not your possession.

Please just stop! Reesie cries. Then, Please just go!

See? He gives her a shake. This is what you do to me with all the mixed messages.

It has taken this long for Ginny to realize that her sister is in actual danger, but now the adrenaline kicks in. She wrangles her phone from the small bag around her neck and balances it upon her cast to dial 911. She holds it out for Sid to see, but he’s too busy trying to convince Reesie that his love for her is immutable.

911. What’s your emergency?

Sid Wellington is my emergency! Ginny rushes to say. We need police at 121 Manhattan Lane.

Finally, Ginny receives Sid’s full attention. You called the cops? he barks.

Please hurry! He’s hurting my sister. He won’t let her go.

Sid thrusts Reesie away from him, and the two sisters scurry up the steps. Once at the door, Reesie fumbles for her keys while Ginny urges her on. The emergency operator asks for updates. I can’t find them, Reesie whimpers. I must have—

Thwack! Sid’s roses crash into the door above their heads, bleeding fractured, red petals across the black doormat. Both ladies revolve to find him wearing a surly smirk. He dangles Reesie’s French poodle keychain from one finger and then hurls it onto the roof.

Please hurry, Ginny repeats into the phone. Then to her sister, Reesie, reach into my bag and get my keys. She turns her side so that her sister can procure them. All the while, Sid alternates between threats on Reesie’s life and promises of everlasting happiness. The door opens. The ladies tumble into the foyer. Ginny secures the bolt and monitors Sid through the window.

Reesie! he yells from the lawn, but Reesie has retreated further down the hall, and is bracing herself in the doorway of her bedroom.

The rain is now falling in earnest. We made it inside, Ginny tells the operator. But Sid is still out there screaming.

Sid is getting soaked. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and pivots this way and that as if arguing with himself about whether or not to stay, but finally he goes. Along the way, he takes a long gander into Reesie’s car and then heads left, down the street on foot.

I don’t see his car anywhere, Ginny says over her shoulder. Does he still live across town?

As far as I know.

There’s a sharp flash of lightning and another loud clap of thunder.

Hello? Ginny pulls the phone away from her ear to study it. The call dropped out. You think I should call them back?

Reesie is quiet which, for a Reesie, is a very odd thing to be. Unless, of course, it’s the overwrought kind of quiet she reserves for Shakespearean soliloquies at her monthly theatre club meetings.

Ginny rounds on her. "Reesie, how bad has it gotten? Has he hurt you?"

Not really, Reesie lies. He’s unnerved me a couple of times. At first, after I called it quits, I thought it was a coincidence, him showing up at the gym or the coffee shop. I didn’t want to humiliate him. I thought he’d get the message. But one day he came to the restaurant while I was working and ended up yelling at me in front of everybody there. It’s like he doesn’t believe me when I say that we’re through and he just continues to act like we’re together. Then he flies off the handle when I don’t follow suit. He makes me feel like I’m the crazy one.

Reesie tiptoes out of her room, hugging herself. Her once perfectly styled hair is disheveled now, exposing an