What I remember first about this is that day that Ralph taught me the names of the horses while we waited on the vet to arrive. The stallion was Cosyland Lalou Mercury. He was to be called Mercury. Not Merc. Not Cosy-on-up-to-me-baby. Not Lala Land. Not Freddie as in Freddie Mercury, which I thought so cute. Nope. I could call him Mercury or "you, stallion" and that's all.

The older mare, the one who hated me the most, was Hidden Meadow Star Lady Ameera. Her name was Arabic for queen. I could call her Ameera. Not Amy. Not Hidden Valley Dressing. Not Queenie. Well, okay then. Ameera it would have to be, not that she gave a rat's ass if I called her anyway, right?

And the one that Ralph suspected was pregnant was Rose's Velour Charbon Nevaeh Sky. Her, I was to call Neva but that's only because Nevaeh (which was Heaven spelled backwards) was a name no one could agree on how it was pronounced. I could not call her Charo, nor Rosie the Riveter, nor Sedah (which was Hades spelled backwards, and again, I thought quite clever, but Ralph did not approve). She was a very pretty horse. Grey white. And very sassy. Neva.

"So Mercury, the randy bugger, finally had his way with her, did he? Ya think Papa Max is going to be angry his little girl got herself knocked up?" I mused.

Ralph gave me a look. "Come closer, Ann. She isn't going to bite you."

"Right. You have seen the way she snorts at me whenever Max is around."

"You're imagining it. Or else you're jealous and she's reading that as nerves. She doesn't respond well to nervous people."

"Jealous? Me? Of a horse? Get real. She's the one who's jealous of me. Her and Ameera both."

"That what the old man's got you believing? That all the women have the hots for him? Even mares?" Ralph asked, grinning suddenly. "He's a sly one."

"Oh, hush. What do you know anyway about such things?"

"Yeah, what would I know, eh? Only been taking care of horses most of my life ... Guess that don't mean much compared to your vast knowledge. Which, I remind you, did not yet extend to the fact that horses got names and should be called by their names just like people ... and dogs."

His eyes cut down to where Buck sprawled between us on the floor of the stable. Buck was ever so elegantly licking his balls. Men, really! What can you do with them? You take them out, thinking they're civilized, and they settle right down to suck on their sex organs! I nudged Buck with my toe to get him to stop.

"So the vet is coming ... and she'll pee in a cup for him?"

Ralph started laughing. "You can be kinda funny when you try, Ann."

"I wasn't making a joke. I want to know. How will he find out if she's pregnant?"

"He'll feel around inside."

"Inside? He puts his hand up there and ... feels around? Can you even imagine having your hand up inside her? Yuck. Gross."

"Get out of here before he gets here. You'll say something stupid like that in front of him and I'll never live it down around here."

But I was there when the vet drove up in his big, banged up truck that had once been white but now was mostly dried dirt and dents. He did indeed feel around inside poor Neva. At least he was wearing a glove. And boots, which I shall not go into why that is apparently something to wear for such occasions.

The vet, Dr. Michaels, was not there just for the pregnancy exam. He was there for annual physicals that were stepped forward a week or two because Ralph was convinced Neva was in the family way.

I stood off away from the stall while the vet began. But I left when Neva rolled her eyes and whined. I mean, really, that whole aspect of big animals and their bodily functions ... can it be grosser?

The stallion was outside pacing. Mercury. Yeah, the stallion.

"So, ya knocked her up. You proud of yourself, stallion? Well, you just wait til Maxie gives you what for, putting a bun in his baby girl's oven."

Mercury eyed me up. He almost seemed to be a bit too interested in me. I wondered what he sensed in the air ... or if he was just feeling his oats.

So the best part of that day? When Max got home, I gave him a cigar and told him he was gonna be a dad again.

His reaction stays with me always.

Maximus has finally conceded that there is a big something we're going to agree to disagree about. Well, not a "thing" ... a person. A somebody.

I am never going to like Hando. There. I've said it. He may have once given me some very inappropriate hot flashes and sweating palms, but he's such a child. And he lives to annoy me. He truly does.

When we got back from our honeymoon, we had all of one day together before Hando was calling Max and egging an invite out of him. So this started a semi-regular schedule of him coming over for more training every few evenings since Max was in town. They had advanced to where Max had even bought Hando a sword.

I thought I'd die when he told me that. I bit my lip so hard that it was swollen for three days. I didn't ask where Max got it. I didn't want to know.

But I did tell him that if Hando was going to be coming over there all the time and if Max was going to let him keep bullying me (picture Max rolling his eyes at me here), then I was going to get involved in a project or something that would take me away from the farm on those nights. And they could just fend for themselves for dinner after their little work outs, I said all huffy as I flounced out of the room.

Okay, well that lasted twice. Twice. The first time, I came home to a holy disaster in the kitchen. It's like they set out to dirty every pot they could find. It took me half the night to clean up and all they'd been making was steak and potatoes. Then the second time, I came home to find them lolling around on the deck, smoking cigars ... and three pizza cartons in the garbage can in the kitchen.

No way.

Uh uh.

I want Max around a long time and I am not about to let Hando start convincing him to eat junk food and red meat as a steady diet.

So I started making dinner and leaving it warming in the oven on those nights when I was clearing out lest I have to run into Hando. Most times, my planning worked ... and with any luck, he was gone when I got back. Not always, but mostly.

And what was I doing? Oh. Well ... I was taking baking lessons from this incredible French pastry chef who had opened a local B&B a few years earlier and not that far down the main Folsom stretch of the highway. He'd recently decided he wasn't reopening his namesake bakery in New Orleans, where he'd made his fame. He had decided he wanted to live and cook in the country full time after Katrina. Another Katrina immigrant like me and Max.

I began to suspect that Hando hung around on some nights just waiting for me to come home with samples of what I'd baked that night.

If he made one more snide comment toward me when Max was out of the room, I'd clock him but good. He should feel lucky that Max always came back just in time.

One day when I wasn't feeling very well and decided to stay home rather than make things worse for myself, Max was late and Hando was early. I was lolling in one of the chairs by the pool, probably sounding like a wounded walrus or something. I tend to groan and whimper a lot when I'm sick, I should add.

"You gonna die on us, then, Orphan Annie?"

"No and don't call me Orphan Annie. And go wait for Max in the stable or something."

"Tsk. Tsk. What would the General say to you being so bloody rude to a guest?"

"You're not a guest. Buck, bite him for me, will ya?"

"Not a guest? That must make me family. Why, Annie, I never knew ya loved me like that. Can we be kissing cousins?"

"Buck, for the love of God, will you bite this bastard instead of licking him to death?"

"See there? Buck and me are mates."

"Get your mate Hando to feed you from now on then, Buck, ya disloyal S.O.B.," I said as I got up to go in the house. I stumbled just a bit ... getting up too fast, lightheaded, just that fraction of a second, you know? Hando stood right up, instantly, and grabbed my arm to steady me.

I almost said thank you. But the moment the words were about to come out, I remembered who I was dealing with ... he was probably up to something bad. I snatched my arm away and pranced into the house. I tossed him a finger behind my back when he started that inane giggling of his.

That night, Max sat up with me while I soaked in a warm tub, hoping it would ease my suffering. He sat on the edge of the tub for a moment before standing up, stripping and climbing in behind me. He's all the medicine I need. I felt better instantly.

When I finally went to the doctor, she gave me medicine and a lecture about how health was a precious commodity, especially now after the storm when stress was having its weird way with so many of us displaced from our former homes. I kind of listened, but mostly I wanted to get out of there and run to the drug store for relief.

I do know she's right ... it's just ... well, I don't know. Maybe it's because Max had been badgering me for two days to go see the doctor and I was already picturing his smug face that night when I admitted she'd given me a prescription for something to make me feel better.

By the next day, I was feeling like a human again. The medicine had worked so well. But those few days of being sick had gotten on my nerves and really served to spur me to new heights in culinary creativity. I was on fire with the need to be active, man. I baked sesame fig tartlets and then some roasted rose petal strawberry mini-macaroons. When I took them to Rosie, I popped in to the pub for a few minutes. But Hando was in there having lunch with his posse Colin and Kim ... so I didn't stay long.

When I got back, I found Rosie in the kitchen with the cook. She said I shouldn't leave so soon because some guy was in the restaurant asking about me.

It sent the strangest chill down my spine. I won't say it was because Max's cautious ways dealing with our personal security had any affect on me. I wish I could say that ... but I can't. Instead, I just felt an odd stroke of recognition that no one would come to Rosie's looking for me unless they knew things about me and Max that they should not.

But Rosie never seemed to understand the flush in my face. I asked who he was and she said he was a stranger with a rather sexy accent. What did he say about me, I asked her.

"He wanted to know who the Ann was who made the desserts," she said and grinned at me.

"How would he know that? That you don't make them yourself?"

"I have a surprise for you that you'd know about if you came in the front door at all. I've got a special section on the menu's board ... people were always asking about the new desserts, the ones you've been making ... so I made a section on the menu board saying 'Ann's Delights' and list whatever you happen to bring in."

"Ann's Delights?" I asked her and I swear when I think of that moment that I am embarrassed to know I preened. "I'm popular?"

"At first, people just thought they were weird. But now the oddity is the charm."

"I'm popular. I cannot believe it. Wait til I tell Max."

"So this guy ..."

"Yeah. This guy ..."

"He stopped in for lunch ... said he was waiting on his car to be fixed down at Pepperman's ... and he had one of the fig tartlets for dessert ..."

"And fell in love?"

"Wants like crazy to know all about you ... how he gets in touch, if I can arrange a meeting, if you'd maybe consider becoming a supplier for his company ... I told him I expected you to be dropping back by within a few hours."

"A supplier?"

"Go talk to him. He's out in the tavern still. Ann, do you have any idea how big it could be if you're selling your desserts to some exporter?"

"Exporter?"

"Snap out of it, girl! C'mon, I'll introduce you ... just remember your friends when you make a tidy deal with him ..."

She shoved me out of the kitchen, down the hall ... and, really, even if she hadn't been with me to point over to a table before the window, I would have known exactly who among the people in the tavern was looking for me. I recognized him right away, even seeing him in the one place I would never have expected to see him.

And I will tell you this ... even I knew that there are no coincidences like this in life.

The one memory I thought of right off that I'd go into if I could only keep one is this one: Maximus and I on our honeymoon, the first night.

The room is incredible. I am jetlagged and buzzed all at the same time. He is awed by the walls and ceiling, which are painted opulently, almost obscenely in their elegance of blues and golds and whites. He is paying the porter who has placed our bags on stands near the bed. I am standing before the door that leads to the balcony. I am watching him over my shoulder while he tips the porter.

He is looking up at the ceiling when he closes the door behind the porter. My eyes trail up there, barely able to focus but intrigued by what captivates him so. I hear a noise at the door and my eyes drop in time to see him locking the safety latch.

"I do not want to be disturbed this night," he says to me, his eyes cast down.

I notice how his lashes seem to graze the soft skin beneath his eyes.

"Will you excuse me?" I say to him and he lifts his gaze now, intent on me as he walks slowly away from the door. I don't wait on him. I am already digging through my bag for my toiletry kit.

I want to be clean tonight.

If I tried to explain that to him, he'd never let me leave his sight. He likes the way I smell; even rather gets off when I am not fresh. I have become comfortable with this concept. But not tonight ... no. I want tonight to be pure and sweet.

But I rush ... I truly do. And when I leave the bathroom, my skin is still damp. The raw silk of the long gown I wear clings to those damp areas of my skin. I can feel the coldness of the hair along the back of my neck, tendrils that are wet while the rest of my hair is dry. I am wearing no makeup. Dashes of perfume in strategic hot spots are there to be found by him when he comes near and not one second before.

He is slowly pacing but he stops in mid step when I emerge. He holds a hand out to me and I go to him. He looks nervous.

"They sent up champagne," he says, his voice soft. "And something to go with it."

"That's good service. Will you pour me a glass?"

"At your command, mistress."

He grins at me now, just before drawing my palm to his lips and kissing tenderly there. Playful.

"I love when you call me mistress like that. It's sexy," I tell him and pinch his butt when he turns to grab the champagne bottle.

He slaps my hand away and gives me a little glare as he pours wheat-colored champagne into two flutes. "None of that, mistress. Or I shall be forced to show you who the master is tonight."

"And here you promised my mom you'd be gentle with me tonight ..."

"And I shall be ... cara." As he hands me a flute, he puts his lips near my ear and sighs, "I shall be all that I have promised ... and more. Much more."

You see, that's the thing about that memory. It can consume me. It's why I shove it to the forefront and slip into it now. It is what I am determined to try to hold on to. I cannot believe I am about to lose so many memories ... I said once it was what I wanted ... but faced with it now, I would do about anything to find one so strong I can always keep it, hidden somewhere, shoved in some recess of my heart. To keep me warm and loved today and to see if they will remain as a token of all the yesterdays I don't want to lose.

Maximus told me once that it was one of his secrets when he was a young man and first really mastering Stoicism. He needed a routine, something where he could instantly divorce himself from his feelings. He would call up a memory that he could slip into so neatly and fully that nothing that was happening outside himself seemed insurmountable.

So it isn't like a trance. It is a cave that you go deep inside, let the coolness seep into your very bones. The darkness is all around you except that you are facing the opening of the cave so you can see outside, into the sun, into the world that is happening out there, but it is not affecting you. It can't touch you. It can't hurt you.

That day in Rosie's Tavern, I knew to be wary. I don't know what I expected to happen. When I approached the table, he looked so surprised. I couldn't tell if it was genuine or not. He stood up; he put his napkin next to his plate. His hands went to his hips. He started laughing. His eyes were so blue from the sunlight that came bouncing through the tavern's front window.

"I cannot believe it!" he finally said, taking a step toward me, giving me a half bow. "Please do not tell me that you and I are destined to find each other in restaurants all over the world! Wait ... Ann? Ann! This is unbelievable. You are surely not the Ann from ... The 'delights' Ann?"

"The very one," I said softly, glancing back at the menu board to see my name there like Rosie said.

"It is such a small world."

"That's what we agreed in Rome," I said as I looked back at him.

"We were right. Please, join me ... we have much to discuss." He moved around the table, pulling out a chair for me.

"So what on earth brings you to our little corner of this small world?" I asked him as he sat across from me.

His eyes roamed over my face, seeking a way inside. "I was driving from Natchez to New Orleans. Thought I'd take the scenic route. A bit too scenic as it turned out. I had to be towed into the garage. Fan belt broke. Radiator has to be replaced now, too."

I knew I could check that out, that bit about the tow and the car trouble. "Why were you driving from Natchez to New Orleans?"

He reached in the breast pocket of his sports jacket and pulled out a business card for me. "I work for the company thinking of buying the casino boat in Natchez and one of the ones in New Orleans. They sent me to do a little covert observations."

"I never knew any of the licenses or boats were for sale. So you're a corporate spy?"

"No, nothing so mysterious or exciting," he said. He actually blushed and looked out the window for a second. "I lead the Development team. I like to come in person to review the market of our possible acquisitions. Get a gut level sense if the investment will pay off, if the market is as viable as our accountants believe."

I was looking down at the card. I had remembered his first name. But without the card, I would never have remembered his last name. "It just seems so very odd that of all places, you'd stop in here, Luke. Isn't it?"

He never lost that smile. For some reason, I got this instant feeling of how I'd like to go out drinking with him. I don't know what it was. He had Max's cultured, measured tones and accent ... but there was something about him that was relaxed and easy going from the start. He seemed almost down to earth despite the obvious trappings of wealth: expensive watch, perfect slacks, exquisite shirt. He also had a sort of demeanor of someone used to being in charge, like he was comfortable taking over. That part of him came through loud and clear with the way he led the conversation between us.

But despite that, I found myself relaxing. I had this vision of what I must have seemed to him - suspicious, defensive, mysterious. And Luke Ferris sat there looking at me like such a normal man. I think it's more a matter that I convinced myself to relax, to not jump to conclusions ... but to stay ready to be wary.

Maximus was already at the house when I got home. I had planned to immediately tell him about meeting Luke again in Folsom, to get Max's counsel. But when I got home, the vet's truck was parked before the stable.

There is something about Neva's pregnancy that has become of critical importance to me. Maybe more so than any importance it is to Max or Ralph. It's like a bond between women and I have felt closer to her. Perhaps it's because of my own yearning to have a child. And I know she feels it because she has begun to welcome me to come near her and she even takes carrots right from my hand now so gently, even when Max is about.

So, I admit, I panicked. I feared the vet was there because something was wrong with her. I ran into the stable and nearly collided with him coming out except Max grabbed me first.

"What's wrong? Is it Neva?" I asked.

"Nothing is wrong, Anna," Max said, smiling at me. He thinks it's cute I've become suddenly attached to one of the horses.

"Then why is the vet here?"

"I was over at the Johnston's. Thought as long as I was just down the road, I'd stop and see how she was doing. First time mom ... sometimes it's good just be a bit more watchful," Dr. Michaels said.

"Oh." I looked around Max, toward Neva's stall, to where Ralph was hanging over the gate, talking to her. "Okay then. That's all right then."

"She's gonna be a good mom," the vet said.

"How can you tell?" I asked him.

"Just a feeling I got," he said. "I'm never wrong."

I watched him drive off and had the silliest notion to go by his office someday. To ask him if he got that kind of feeling about me.

It was a few days before I thought to tell Max about Luke showing up in Folsom.

Our first time, on our honeymoon, it was that first night, remember? I won't forget. 

The concierge had sent up chilled champagne. They knew it was our honeymoon. I thought it was such a great touch. Along with champagne, they sent a bowl of sinful strawberries and powdered sugar. And they sent a few canapés. I nibbled on a few while Maximus took a shower.

It's funny, really. When he said he was going to shower, I tried to convince him to stay out there with me, teasing each other with the way it felt to have my body pressed up against his while we sipped champagne from crystal flutes with gold rims. But after he left and when I heard the water going, I was actually so excited by that. Maybe too much.

I felt my heart flutter alarmingly when the water stopped. I slugged down a gulp of champagne and told myself to not be silly. But there was something about knowing he was on the other side of the door, preparing to make love to me, thinking about what he'd do to me, denying himself until the moment was perfect. And knowing he was going to come out of there and knock me over with his manliness ... and he was my lover.

When I remember this, I linger over the sensation of anticipation. It's amazing how easy it is to feel it, all over again. The flush inside. The heat of my skin against the coolness of the gown I wore. The tightening of my nipples. The tension between my thighs. The way the lights seemed to flicker even after I dimmed the overheads and stood waiting with only a few lamps on in the suite. The feel of crystal against my lips. The taste of the champagne on my tongue.

He emerged wearing only a towel around his waist. I've seen him do this a thousand times after a shower. There was something different about it that night. But it was more about my reaction than it was about the way it seemed to drape indecently over his bulge. I could see him, becoming aroused as he looked across the room at me and sipped from his own flute.

Magnificent. 

The thing is, I would normally have told Maximus right away about such a thing as the coincidence of seeing Luke Ferris there in Folsom after having first met him in Rome that night that Max came unglued in the restaurant because of the table of rude tourists.

I suppose the truth is that by the time I left Rosie's, I felt silly about how suspicious I was of the coincidence of him showing up there in our little town, in the tavern. Or maybe I no longer had the patience to really worry about speculative threats after what we'd been through with the storm.

But it was also that Luke made it so plausible and routine. He talked about how when he is out scouting the market for possible acquisitions for his casino company, that he is always thinking ahead to one of their trademarks when they do take a property over. They feel it's really one of their best ways to get in good with the community - and that's why they look to bring in local foods, local color, local themes, local drinks.

So he said it just wasn't at all unusual for him to find some local flavor akin to the desserts I made and instantly want to investigate bringing them into the casino's new ambiance once they took over.

And he talked a lot about what this would mean for me.

See, he got me thinking ahead, past the coincidence. He simply took the conversation and turned it into a business meeting. So we sat there in the tavern, sipping ale from Abita Springs because I thought he should know about this local offering, and we talked about how I could take a little hobby baking desserts for the tavern and turn it into a business able to supply two casino boats.

But it slipped right out of my mind when I got home and thought Neva was in trouble. And then when I would think about it, I just kept thinking it was silly and it'd slip my mind, time and again, when Max was home. So it was that I did not tell him right away.

Every so often, for days after that, I'd be baking something new for Rosie's and my mind would drift away, turning over this idea of making a living from an enjoyable hobby. And I thought about how Luke said his company had all sorts of consultants and if I was to go forward with it, he'd have really great people who could come down and help me figure it all out. That in the end, it'd be fun for me.

And all that kept making me think about how much I'd enjoy working at it ... owning my own business, making decisions, conquering new markets.

The day I finally said something to Maximus was the next time I heard from Luke. He called to tell me they'd decided to buy the casino boats and he definitely wanted to go forward with the idea of having me supply my unusual desserts.

My brain was reeling when Max made it home. He seemed in such a good mood and he said it had been a good day for them at work. So I made him a drink, we strolled out to see Neva together ... and then over dinner, I told him all about meeting Luke and the business proposition that was now in play.

He let me talk it out. But I started getting nervous because he lost all expression from almost the moment I told him about Luke turning up and that he was the same guy from the restaurant in Rome. When I finally got it all out, he cocked his head and regarded his wine glass. Just before he said anything, his eyes came up to lock with mine.

"Why are you only now informing me of this, Anna? This cannot be a coincidence, even you admit this. Yet rather than immediately informing me so that I could determine if this was a threat to us, you let him engage you further in discussions that may reveal information about us that a stranger should not have?" he asked me.

"I should have told you. It just slipped my mind. And I suppose I thought nothing would come of it."

"How often have I asked you to take no chances?"

"Maximus ... I goofed up. I admit it. What do you want me to do now?"

"Do nothing. I will run a background check on him ... if he is as he says, then it is nothing more than a passing fancy."

"Passing fancy?"

"You said you had no desire to enter into another full time job at this time. Have I misunderstood your intentions?"

"No. You haven't. It's just that I never saw something like this coming. I'll need to figure that out."

"What is there possibly to 'figure out'? Tell him it is not within reason."

"Maximus, I'm going to explore this. If I decide to do it, you have to trust me that it's what I want. I need your support not you holding me back."

"Holding you back?" He licked his lips. I could see him steeling himself, dropping away from his emotions ... except I'd seen the twin flash of surprise and anger before he'd shut down. His voice was barely above a whisper when he responded with, "What about what we said we wanted? What about your promise to us?"

I swallowed hard. "I haven't forgotten. But when something unexpected drops in your lap, I think you should be allowed to change your mind within reason."

"Reason?" he asked, his brows going up.

It's how we left it, I suppose. Not wanting to fight but not really willing to just talk about it either. 

His tongue tasted of the champagne's deep notes. I remember that so well. Even now, it's as if the taste buds toward the back of my tongue tingle as they register and differentiate between the champagne's dry sweetness and his own unique taste.

This is how we came together, as if waltzing across some huge empty ballroom, eyes only for each other. I remember swaying as I walked, letting my hips move to the song playing in my head, enjoying the feel of silk and knowing my breasts moved in a way that captivated and invigorated the man I approached. He made me confident in my own sexuality; a man should do that for his woman.

He moved with rough grace, such an awareness of his body, so tidy about uncoiling his strength. When I neared him, I smiled over the rim of my flute. He kept walking, forcing me to retreat even while my body swayed across his. All he wanted was to back me up to where I had put the champagne's ice bucket and the dishes from the snacks on the table.

After he poured champagne, nearly emptying it, he sat easily in a chair pulled out from the table. I was still swaying to the song in my head; I asked him if he could hear Barry White as easily as I could.

This is when he struck, his hand coming out swiftly to circle my wrist and pull me down to his lap. His mouth nuzzled at my neck, the tip of his tongue drawing a long, lazy line up, up, up and up until I shivered and giggled at the sensation.

"Our honeymoon," I sighed when he stopped and just held me.

He cleared his throat and stiffened. "I wonder if you are prepared to begin?" he asked, very solemnly.

"Well, I think the answer's pretty obvious."

Again he cleared his throat. "There is just the matter of the Connubial Oath."

"What's that?"

"Perhaps I should have mentioned this. It is but a minor ritual of our marriage contracts. Traditional for the first night of the honeymoon. I would have mentioned it earlier however I am no longer hidebound to such traditions. I am sure the gods will still be kind to us ... even without the sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?" I leaned back from him. His eyes studied mine. "If this is a tradition, you know I am always supportive of that. Come now, Maxims. Don't look so serious! Let's just do it. Is it romantic?"

"It would have been an honor for a new wife to do for me."

"Then it'll be an honor for me, won't it?"

"Very well. If you insist. It is an oath you take, to your husband, to invoke the gods' blessings on your house, our marriage, our children. I admit, though it may seem I am giving in to superstition, that it will put my mind at ease and I do believe it will enable me to perform tonight with you, Anna."

"Oh? That sounds serious then. Okay. I would do anything for you ... you know that."

"I will speak the words slowly. You repeat them. You must be holding a fruit, to signify the bounty of your body is pledged to me. And you must say this while standing before me, feet flat on the ground to signify your connection to the Earth Mother. And your hands must be on my shoulders, to signify our bond."

My gut gave this little flip like it so often does when he so seriously brings me into some ritual of his. I want to be reverent about such things when he reveals them to me. I picked up a strawberry from the bowl as I rose to my feet and stood before him. He spread his thighs so I could move right up next to him. "How do I hold the strawberry and put my palms on your shoulders?"

"You do not hold it in your hands."

"Oh?" I frowned at him and considered this. His eyes dropped and I realized where I was supposed to "hold" the berry. "Oh, Jesus," I muttered, drawing my gown up and placing it gently just in the opening of my sex.

"Beautiful," he whispered, bringing my fingers to his mouth to lick them and then placing my hands on his shoulders. "Are you ready to proceed, mistress?"

I nodded and watched as he seemed to grow totally still. His smile was soft and I couldn't have loved him more just then.

"Repeat after me ... Quid quid latine dictum sit, altum videtur."

And I listened and spoke along with him, earning such a sweet smile and light kiss upon my lips. "What did that mean?" I asked him.

"Not yet. One last part of this must be said, Anna ... the fruit, cara, it is secure? This is very auspicious that it not slip out. Here, let me just check so there is no accident."

He pulled up the edges of my gown and slid his hand between my thighs. He was looking into my eyes, intently, challenging me to concentrate even as his thumb pressed the berry lightly, further into me. It felt erotic suddenly where before it had embarrassed me.

"Finally ... this last part ... say it back to me as I say it to you ... Magister mundi Maxime," he said, so softly.

And when it was over, he blushed. He truly did. "Is that it? The Connubial Oath? Tell me what it means in English ... please, Maximus!"

"Very well, cara, I will tell you. Here, let me hold your hands. There ... now, the first part - quid quid latine dictum sit, altum videtur - that has a simple meaning. Bend near me, Anna, let me whisper it in your ear ... it means: anything said in Latin sounds profound."

It took a moment before the penny dropped. And when it did, it was a good thing he was holding on so tight to my hands or I would have slapped him, I think. Instead, my mouth dropped open and I sputtered out something about him taking advantage of my trust in him and he said he loved it when I blushed so hard that it went all the way to my breasts. I do believe that I told him he was as close as he was getting to those breasts that night. And then I narrowed my eyes at him and he must have known what I was going to ask next.

"What was the second part? Skip the Latin, give it to me in English. What did you make me say?"

"Maximus is the master of the universe."

I didn't say a thing for a long moment. And then: "You should be ashamed of yourself."

"And yet I am not."

"Maximus!" 

"You know how I love the taste of you when you struggle against me ..."

And with that, he slipped from the chair, dropping to his haunches, lifted my gown ... and sucked the berry from my sex. And when he emerged, he slung off his towel and rose before me to his full height.

All man. Aroused. On fire.

He walked into me. Nudging me back against the table but the moment I put my hands on his chest and stroked his skin, he took a step away until I moved into him. And then he had me. I was conquered.

The day after I'd told Maximus about the offer Luke had made me, he drove to work in the city early in the morning. I watched the car lights recede down the lane. In my heart, I knew I should have also told him that I was also going into the city that day.

But I cannot talk to Max when he is shut down like he had been since the night before. I'd tried once more, hours after dinner, to get him to see that I would be a fool not to at least explore this opportunity. Things like this don't happen to people like me, I told him, so when it does then I would always regret it if I didn't at least examine the idea more fully.

"What's the harm, really?" I asked Buck after I took a shower. He tilted his head at me and I wondered if I'd fooled him. I was pretty sure I hadn't. "Oh, what do you know? You're as bad as Max. It's a business meeting. That's all. Just to find out if they offer something I can make work, something worth the work. If so, then Max will be fine about it."

And when I left the farm not that long afterwards, I was trying to convince myself that this meeting, this step, that it meant nothing. Half way into New Orleans, I had a premonition. I imagined myself telling Max that I was going through with the idea, that I was going into a real business, that I would be working insane hours again, traveling for sales promotions, and all the other things Luke had already mentioned.

The sun was glinting off quiet, soft waves of Lake Pontchartrain. And it dawned on me like someone threw a wet rag in my face. Max was right. I'd said one thing and I was considering doing quite another thing altogether. It would be a huge fight between us if I chose to do it. Did I really want this that badly to start a war with Max? Was this worth it to me?

No. It wasn't.

It was very flattering to have someone tell you that you're important, that you have talent, that you are the very kind of person they would kill to have working with them.

But imagining myself and how I'd be feeling telling this all to Max if I really did decide to make a deal to do this with Luke's company, it sounded so shallow to let something like this happen, knowing Max objected and that finding a new career of baking wasn't even that big of a deal to me ... was it? Wouldn't I have sought it out if it was something I really wanted?

So by the time I was merging onto the interstate to head into the city, I knew that I'd be meeting Luke at the restaurant just to tell him I was not going to take the business offer. But maybe I could just sell him the recipes and he'd not feel he was going away empty-handed, I told myself. It'd be a nice bit of change to earn, I thought with some relish at the idea of having the chance to bring in some money rather than just debts.

A lot of places have re-opened in the Warehouse District and in the Quarter. But it was still tricky to try to remember what was in business at this point and what was not. The place I'd told him we'd meet for lunch over on Julia Street was still closed. I called to tell him we'd have to go somewhere else. He was staying in the Windsor Court. They have a restaurant there. We decided all round it'd be easier to just meet there.

It did pass my mind when the valet came out for my car ... the idea of how I'd ever explain to Maximus that I was meeting this strange man at his hotel.

Luke was waiting at the bar next to the restaurant. Three men were with him. One said he'd seen me in Rome, that night I'd met Luke. They already had drinks before them on a low table. I glanced at the glasses ... there were five ... and I was already shaking my head when Luke said he'd taken the liberty of ordering me a drink, a soft Rioja because he'd remembered me ordering one that time at Rosie's Tavern.

But I sipped at the wine after we sat down around that little table and they introduced themselves. I was never good with names but I tried hard to fake it as I shook their hands.

Lunch was at a white linen-covered table in the restaurant. Try as I might, when I wanted to say that we could make this all real simple since I wasn't taking the deal but was willing to sell the recipes ... Luke kept saying we'd wait until after lunch. That he preferred lunch conversation be anything but business. So they talked about Katrina, what a shame, we weren't forgotten over in Jolly Olde. That's where they were all based but only Luke and one other man, named Tony, had that distinctive, too hard to place British accent. The other three were American, broad Midwestern accents. They wanted to talk about the mayor's race and if Jazz Fest was worth coming back to go to, things like that.

It seemed so long since I'd just talked with a group of men who weren't intimidated by the fact I had an opinion and was willing to express it, defend it, agree to disagree. I'd missed this part of working at the paper ... where these kinds of give and takes were normal ... and where men didn't roll their eyes or take your opinions as a personal challenge. Not that Max did ... much ... but I did work hard to not get involved in these kinds of conversations when I was around men he worked for or with. So this interaction around that table relaxed me as much as it endeared these men to me. A few times, I caught Luke's eye. We seemed to often be on the same side. He enjoyed that as much as I did. He was a good person to have on your side in these verbal sparring matches.

Over coffee, they segued into business by talking about the themes they were doing for the two casino boats. They wanted them to look like old fashioned American riverboats. Deep South, magnolias, lots of white and gilding, indigenous food and accents.

After lunch, they suggested we go back to the bar, where we could all talk about the contract they wanted me to sign ... and I tried yet again, for at least the tenth time since I'd first met them in the bar, to say it had probably been a wasted meeting and they said, for the tenth time, that they didn't have any other appointments so what did it hurt to hear each other out.

They were all prepared; stopping them would have taken a lot more presence than I had. They had presentations, charts, contracts, fee schedules ... and they'd gone to all the trouble of arranging for me to visit a small, upscale factory that put out other people's baked goods, according to their recipes, packaged as they decided ... they served people like me, who had the recipe but nothing to produce enough baked goods for large commercial clients.

"But this is too fast," I said before their steamroller could flatten me.

"That's how things move in business, Ann. We're not government workers like your husband. We strike, hustle, make money. We take risks. We get the pay offs because we are very, very good at what we do," William said. He was one of the Americans. He was also the one who'd seen Max and I in that restaurant in Rome.

Already on the defensive, now I bristled and what had been a congenial if brisk discussion took a jagged turn when I said sharply, "My husband is not some government bureaucrat. I resent that."

He looked at Luke. Luke's smile quivered as he gave a few tiny shakes to his head. He said, "No, her husband is a high level security branch chief ... for a government contractor."

William looked puzzled as he regarded Luke. "Same thing."

"Look, I was coming here to turn you down anyway but when someone insults my husband, he makes the decision one I'm enjoying having made."

"You're going to turn us down? Because I pointed out your husband doesn't know anything about free enterprise and the pace of business?" William asked, incredulous, a flustered smile on his face, looking at me like I was such a silly ninny.

There was a fraction of a moment ... when it was silent and I looked from man to man and I was ready to get up, shake their hands and leave.

Except Luke said, quietly, "No, that's not why she's saying no. It's about her husband but not about you insulting him."

"I don't know what you mean," I said, unsure all of a sudden by the static charge in the atmosphere.

Luke leaned in on his knees. His eyes pierced into me. He was now in total command of this meeting. "Yes, you do. He doesn't want you to do this. You're afraid to stand up to him. You're giving in to him because you don't have the guts to believe in yourself unless he tells you that you can."

"Excuse me?" I cleared my throat as Luke simply stared into me; I knew when I dropped my eyes that I was embarrassed to be thought that kind of woman. Weak. Controlled. Was he right, though?

"I never have understood that in this modern age," he said, curt words in a dismissive tone. "Women say they can have it all, they say they want it all. They want to have the chance at the big office, doing men's work ... but then a man puts a ring on her finger, she forgets she has a brain and she's letting him dictate without even putting up a fight. Pathetic, really."

My eyes flashed up to his. "For your information, I can do this if I want. I'm choosing not to."

"No, you're not. You're being pushed into saying no. He wants a wife who'll do his bidding, who'll keep his home and bear his children. He doesn't know nor does he care what you really want. If he had seen your eyes just now when we went over the tiniest fraction of what we had to tell you, of what's possible for you ... if he had, he would know this is what you want. But it would not matter to him. Not if it interfered with you having his dinner on the table when he comes home from work."

"That is not true."

"Isn't it, Ann?" Luke said, now leaning toward me, a soft smile of understanding on his face. "Let me ask you something. When you told him about this deal, did he ask you how much money you'd bring in?"

"No."

"So he never took it seriously, did he? It never crossed his mind that you were about to make a tidy sum, about to be successful."

Max's image flashed before me. His face when I'd told him about this. His disapproval. It never had occurred to him to be excited for me, to think I might find joy in this, to imagine being enthusiastic about this, I thought to myself. "I am successful."

Luke's smile fled, as if he read my thoughts. "No, you were successful. Once. But I can guess how a man such as Max would feel. He will not allow this. He will not permit it. Why would he? He's got the woman he wants, a modern woman who once had a successful and satisfying career, she's now at home ... how he must love it. Dream come true for him? You probably have dinner waiting for him when he gets home. Your life revolves around him. He would no sooner give that up ... he thinks he's in clover."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"I know men like Max. I know him. I don't have to hear another thing - I just have to look at your face, your body language. You don't like that I know this, so you're angry with me. But the person you should be questioning here is not me. It is your husband, the one for whom you are giving up this opportunity."

"It's my decision. He knows I will make up my own mind. You know nothing about us."

"We've done quite an extensive backgrounder on you both," Tony said softly.

I looked between him and Luke. "What? Why would you ..."

"If we are going to back you in this, knowing you are a novice, of course we must look into your background, your credentials. It appeared you would be a wise investment. You have been successful in the past ... no reason to think you would not work very hard in this endeavor as well," Tony said.

"I would," I said softly.

"Yet you won't do it. Not even if it's the one chance you should take on yourself." Luke said me, his hand on my shoulder, and it was as much a question as it was a statement.

Looking in his eyes, knowing he was seeing everything that had gone into the decision ... it made me face it, too.

I was walking away from something I wanted. Something I thought could have been such a great thing for me. If Luke hadn't just looked into me like that, I could have added that I was doing it with no remorse. That I was doing it because I wanted to.