Annie Macy studied her reflection in the full-length mirror and wondered what in the hell she was thinking when she let Aunt Tawney plan her wedding. Crisp white taffeta gowns and delicate lace veils were for twenty-something brides. Even a thirty-year-old would be pushing it to go to this extreme. But forty? Good gawd. She looked ridiculous. She looked desperate. Annie met her own gaze in the mirror. She looked miserable.
“Would you tilt your head a little to the left, Sugar?” her aunt asked in a tremulous voice.
Annie complied while trying to generate some enthusiasm for the event ahead. In forty minutes, she would be Mrs. Lance Holcomb and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
Not anymore. Not after yesterday. Before that, if she were honest with herself.
Couldn’t Tawney and everyone else buzzing about the dressing room see that she was only going through the motions, too confused to do anything else? Or were they all so caught up in the idea of happily-ever-after that they didn’t notice?
Maybe they simply chose to ignore anything that might cause a hitch in The Plan–as in, get Annie married off before it’s too late. She couldn’t count the number of times over the last few years that Aunt Tawney had said a woman over forty had a better chance of getting struck by lightning than snagging a man. Tawney refused to hear Annie’s reminders that Time or Newsweek or whichever publication had written that statement reneged on it later. Tawney believed it. Period.
Deep down, Annie had continued to buy into the dismal declaration, too. In her twenties, if someone had asked how she imagined her life would be at the age of forty, she would’ve said she’d have it all-a position of responsibility and power at her father’s bank, a husband who was her equal, children.
She had none of those things.
Two years ago her biological clock had progressed from ticking to hammering away like a nervous woodpecker as the possibility of a husband and children seemed to slip further and further out of her reach. Then her father hired Lance, introduced them to one another, and they hit it off. When Lance proposed one month before her fortieth birthday, the woodpecker took a breather and Annie shared its relief. She cared for Lance, they enjoyed each other’s company. He was charming and funny, ambitious and interesting and smart. They were good together.
In addition to possibly making a beautiful baby, Annie knew they would make a great business team, too. She spent a lot of time frustrated with her father for not giving her more responsibility at work, more free reign. Annie tried to be patient, to humor him. Milford Macy was from the old school, and though he exasperated her, she respected his dedication to the business he’d built. She may be his daughter, but she would have to work her way up, learn the ropes the hard way before stepping into his shoes. Annie had been doing just that since dropping out of college twenty years prior, convinced she could learn more from her father than a textbook.
Luckily, Lance shared her vision for the bank. He listened to her ideas, offered opinions, insights and suggestions. Lance had never voiced any objections to being the man behind the woman some day when she inherited the controlling share of First Bank of Savannah. Not that she wanted that; she would be happy to have him as her equal partner.
Unless….
“This veil…” Aunt Tawney sighed. “It’s not quite right.” She stood on tiptoe, her stubby plump fingers smoothing and adjusting as they had for the past half hour.
Again Annie shifted her attention to the mirror, to the blur of rustling pale pink behind her. At the vanity that stretched across the back wall, her University of Georgia sorority sisters from twenty years prior fussed with their makeup and hair. Two of them, anyway. Charlene Willoby Blackthorn and Reece Osborne Calhoun giggled, whispered and cooed like teenaged girls, their voices unnaturally giddy in the stuffy room. Only the maid of honor, Sara Buckhorn Miles, seemed unfazed by all the frou-frou feminine folderol. Sara paced and smoked and shot Annie pointed glances every five seconds.
They look like perimenopausal poodles, Annie thought, feeling removed from the scene, as if she were watching her life play out on a television screen, a low-budget, groan-inducing movie of the week on the ‘horror’ channel. In addition to Annie’s dress, Aunt Tawney had chosen the frilly, silly, pastel bridesmaid gowns. The society page would have a heyday with this. By tomorrow morning, Annie figured she would be the laughing stock of Savannah, but she was too numb to care.
The door squeaked open. Annie’s Aunt Tess, the youngest of her father’s sisters, stepped into the chaos. Sixty and long-divorced, Tess was as tall and svelte and bold as Tawney was short and plump and timid. “I just saw Lance.” Grinning, she fanned her face, sending her own tobacco-laced scent adrift in the room. “My, oh my. You’re one lucky girl, Annie-fo-fannie. That man is mouth-watering gorgeous in holey jeans. You’ll drool like the village idiot when you see him in his tux.”
Annie heard a swish of taffeta as Charlene stepped closer. Misty-eyed and gushing, she took Annie’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Mr. and Mrs. Lance T. Holcomb.” She sighed. “I’m so happy for you, honey. It’s finally happening. After all these years.”
“Happy for her? I’m proud of her,” Reece huffed. “Unlike some of us, Annie held out for a bonafide catch.”
Sara came up alongside Annie and in a quiet voice said, “Hey.” Motioning with her head toward the door, she added, “You want to go for a walk?”
“Oh, my no,” Tawney chirped. “Don’t be silly. She doesn’t have time for a walk.” Wrinkling her nose and waving cigarette smoke away from Annie’s gown with a fluttering hand, the older woman added, “Please put that nasty thing out, Sara. Today of all days, we don’t want Annie to smell like an ashtray.”
Annie kept her focus on Sara’s knowing eyes. Those eyes saw things the others didn’t. Those eyes would not allow Annie to fool herself. “I could use some air,” she murmured. “Aunt Tawney, why don’t you help Charlene and Reece finish up? We won’t be long, I promise.”
“Sugar…you’ll mess up your gown.”
“I’ll hold the train for her,” Sara said, then nudged Annie and murmured, “Let’s go.”
They hurried from the dressing room into its adjoining sitting area and out into the hallway, headed for the door that opened onto the church’s side lawn. It was hotter than blazes outside, a typical sultry Georgia June. After only five seconds on the small porch, Annie started to perspire beneath all her layers of lace.
Sara reached into the bodice of her dress and pulled out a tiny silver flask. “Here. You look like you could use this.”
“You know I don’t drink hard stuff.”
“Today’s a good day to start.”
Annie couldn’t disagree. She plucked the flask from her friend’s hand, twisted off the cap, took a swig, coughed and choked as it burned its way down.
“You don’t have to do this,” Sara said. “I can tell you’re having second thoughts. What’s wrong?”
Annie took another smaller sip of Southern Comfort before handing the flask back to Sara. “After the rehearsal last night…” She nibbled her lip.
“Tell me,” Sara prodded.
Annie drew a steadying breath. “I’d left the church, but I forgot something so I came back. The only cars left in the parking lot were Lance’s and Vivienne’s.”
“Vivienne? Your wedding planner?” When Annie nodded, Sara’s eyes widened then narrowed. “I knew it.” She jerked the flask up to her lips and tilted it back. “That asshole. What were they doing?”
“Nothing except talking inside the sanctuary. But he touched her arm and—” When tears threatened, Annie averted her gaze to a thick grove of trees at the far edge of the parking lot. “The way Lance looked at her…his body language…”
“What, Annie?” Sara asked softly.
“He never looks at me like that.” Her voice faltered. “He doesn’t smile at me that way or reach out and touch me…”
“Oh, honey.” Sara offered the flask again.
Pressing her lips together, Annie shook her head and waved it away. Now that the words were spoken, the little whisper in her head that had warned her for months not to marry Lance grew louder. She had chosen not to listen to it before. Considering her history, she had chalked it up to staying single for so long and having cold feet when it came to marriage. Annie wasn’t proud of the fact that she’d been engaged twice before and had broken off both relationships. But despite her growing reputation as a runaway bride, she couldn’t ignore this whisper any longer. It was even more insistent than the ones from the past. “What should I do?” she squeaked and met Sara’s gaze.
“What do you want to do?”
“My aunts...Daddy...they’ve gone to so much trouble and expense. And I’ve already backed out twice before.”
Sara waved off her words. “Those didn’t count. You called them off before anyone gave you so much as a butter dish. And you were a baby. You shouldn’t have been thinking about marriage in the first place.”
“I was twenty-five with Avery and thirty with Chuck.”
“Thirty? Really?” Sara’s wince was quick but not quick enough that Annie didn’t see it. “I thought you were younger.” She cleared her throat. “You did the right thing on both counts. Chuck’s a workaholic and Avery can’t get it up.”
“Avery’s impotent? How do you know?”
“His ex has a big mouth.”
Annie sighed. “My family thinks the world of Lance. They won’t understand. They think he’s the perfect catch.” Everyone thought so.
Everyone except Sara.
“I’m not sure your wedding day is the appropriate time for me to say this…” Sara hesitated, took another sip from the flask. “On second thought, maybe it’s the perfect time. I don’t understand why everyone can’t see what he’s been up to from the beginning.”
“What are you talking about?”
She laid a hand on Annie’s arm. “Lance doesn’t act like a man who’s in love, honey. I’ve always thought he was after your dad’s business holdings and going through you to get them. If I were a betting woman, I’d place my money on Lance Holcomb as a schemer and an opportunist. I thought you’d see it eventually or I would’ve said something before you agreed to marry him. After that, I was afraid of ruining our friendship if I pointed it out.”
“You hinted. And I did pick up on the clues that something wasn’t right. I just didn’t want to believe it. I still don’t. I can’t believe he’d use me. Lance isn’t like that.” Or was he? Honestly, Annie wasn’t sure. Sweat trickled down between her cleavage. She fanned her face and chest with a hand. “So what if he doesn’t look at me in a certain way? Lance is good to me.”
“Good isn’t good enough. You deserve great.” Sara tilted her head to one side. “I’ll ask you what I ask my girls whenever they think they’re in love. Does Lance wow you?”
“Wow me?” Annie thought about all that implied. She cared for Lance, was attracted to him, but did she love him? She wasn’t even sure romantic love really existed. Not the kind you read about, the kind she had once believed in. Maybe caring for someone was love. “Did Craig wow you?” she asked Sara.
Sara’s brows wiggled. “Did he ever. I remember the first time it hit me that I had to have him. I got this little zing in the pit of my stomach.” She blushed beneath her scattering of freckles, then frowned at Annie’s expression and added, “You don’t have a clue what I’m talking about, do you?”
Annie didn’t answer.
“That’s what I was afraid of. If you’d felt that zing with Lance, you wouldn’t have a single doubt in your mind about marrying him. Wild horses couldn’t drag you away from the altar.”
“But you were in your twenties when you married. Maybe a woman my age needs something different in a relationship. Something more stable…and respect.”
“Stability and respect are important.” Sara smiled. “But even though Craig’s physique looks more like the Pillsbury Dough Boy’s these days than Matthew McConaughey’s, he still wows me, and I still need it.”
A knock sounded behind them, and Annie turned to see Aunt Tawney at the window, waving her in. She mouthed ‘okay’ to her aunt then said to Sara, “Today more than ever, I miss my mother. She was the perfect wife; she’d know what I should do.” Annie scratched beneath the itchy veil and it tilted precariously to one side of her head. “I need time to think.”
Sara glanced at her watch. “You’d better hurry.” She screwed the cap onto the flask and returned it to her bodice.
Annie grimaced at the sight of carrot-top Sara in the pansy pink bridesmaid gown. Despite hovering tears, she managed a small laugh. “You sure you’re not warning me off Lance just so you won’t have to walk down the aisle in that dress?”
“Lord.” Sara shook her head and tugged at her neckline. “What was your aunt thinking?”
“She went a little overboard on the girly quotient.”
“A little? This thing is gawd-awful.”
Annie shrugged. “She and Tess only had sons. Tess could care less about all this, but Tawney was so into the planning, I let her do her thing.”
“Well, I’d wear the dress with a smile if you were marrying the right guy.”
Straightening the pearl-studded bow centered between Sara’s breasts, Annie blurted a laugh. “You are a good friend.”
“Damn right I am.” Sara winked, and they hooked arms and went inside.
On their way back to the dressing room, they spotted Charlene and Reece standing with Sara’s husband at the opposite end of the hallway.
When Craig waved, Sara said, “I think I’ll go join them.” She squeezed Annie’s hand. “Only you know what’s right for you, honey. Not me or your family or anyone else. Make up your own mind about Lance. I’ll be close by if you need me.” Like a fluffy pink cloud, she floated off toward the others.
As Annie stepped into the sitting area adjoining the dressing room, her aunts’ voices drifted to her. Something about Tawney’s tone made her pause outside the slightly open door.
“Lord, please just let this be a case of the jitters and not another bail out,” Aunt Tawney said in a worried voice. “We’ll give her a few minutes then I’m going to drag her in here by the hair if I have to.”
“I can’t blame her. She’s been single awhile,” Tess replied. “Trust me, you get set in your ways when you live alone for a long time. If I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t go through with it.”
“But Annie’s not like you. She needs someone to take care of her.”
Flinching, Annie braced a hand against the wall. She needed someone to take care of her? Since when?
“I know you and Milford believe that,” Tess said dryly, “But I’m not so sure. Annie’s been taking care of herself just fine for years.”
“Her daddy takes care of her,” Tawney scoffed.
“In a way, I suppose. Milford certainly sees to it her life is carefree.”
Anger bubbled up in Annie. Is that what everyone thought? That she sat back and allowed her father to make her life easy and smooth? Yes, she had a hefty trust fund, but she also worked her butt off.
"And Annie dropped out of college, you may recall. She didn’t just leave,” Aunt Tawney went on. “Who can blame Milford for looking for someone to step in at the bank when he retires? In forty years, Annie has yet to commit to anything—college, two prior engagements. She can’t be trusted to follow through. Why, in junior high, she even refused to finish charm school.”
Humiliation as hot as the Georgia heat wrapped around Annie.
“Charm school,” Tess huffed. “If I’d known dropping out was an option, I’d have turned tail when I was a girl, too. Who gives a damn about how to flutter your eyelashes? Not anybody I care to know. Maybe Annie’s just smarter than the rest of us. She does things her own way.”
“Exactly. She’s always trying to push newfangled business ideas on Milford. I say if it ain’t broke don’t fix it. If she took over, I’m afraid to think what might happen.”
“Milford should give her a chance, think a little less about the welfare of his precious bank and more about her.”
“He is thinking about her. She’ll get her inheritance whether or not she has control of it. He’s only looking out for Annie by finding the right person to manage her interests. Milford won’t be around forever to watch out for her. Thank God Lance came along. Our big brother can finally rest easy. Not only can Lance take care of the bank, he can take care of Annie in other ways, too.”
“Now see, that’s what bothers me. She’s forty years old for gawd’s sake. Why in the world is he so overprotective? She doesn’t need watching over or to be taken care of.” Tess sighed. “When Lydia died, he pinned his thumb on that girl and he hasn’t lifted it since. I don’t know how Annie has put up with it for so long.”
“He lost the love of his life, Tess. He’s terrified of losing her, too. ”
Even after twenty-four years, the mere mention of her mother’s death brought painful memories back to Annie. To this day, she missed her. And her father…he’d been so fragile, so devastated after the accident. Annie had been sixteen at the time, and watching her father’s heart break had almost killed her, too. She had understood that he overprotected her out of love and a pressing fear that she also might slip away from him. That’s why she put up with his meddling long after she saw her first wrinkle in the mirror.
“The love of his life?” Tess made a hissing sound. “Lydia spent more time in New York City partying with her seedy friends that last year than she did with her own husband and child.”
Annie jolted. She had to physically stop herself from stepping into the room and coming to her mother’s defense. Her mom had been chairman of the Savannah chapter of Women For Women, a national charitable organization helping homeless women find shelter and work. The chapter was new and struggling to find its feet when her mother took office. Lydia had traveled to New York periodically that year to learn strategies from that city’s more established chapter, not to party.
“And that lie about her charity work,” Tess said with disgust. “Did she think he wouldn’t find out she resigned her position almost before she began? From the start, I think her intention for taking it was to have a cover for those trips.”
Annie closed her eyes, unable to believe what she was hearing. A sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.
“Please, sister,” Tawney said in a low tone. “This isn’t the time to dig up family scandals. Thank God Milford was able to bury that particular one in the first place.” Whispering now, she added, “No one knows that she wasn’t alone in that car. Let’s keep it that way.”
Tess sighed again. “Milford’s afraid Annie’s like her, isn’t he?”
“She is like her mother. So much so it’s scary sometimes. She inherited Lydia’s restless spirit, her inability to ever be satisified and follow through with anything she starts. Milford’s not about to let Annie spiral down and self-destruct like Lydia did.”
Annie pressed a hand across her mouth and let their words sink in. Obviously there was more to her mom’s death than she’d been told. More than a woman making too sharp a turn and going off a bridge on a rainy night while away in New York on volunteer business.
And if her aunts’ implications were true, there was more to her mother than she had ever known, too.
“Annie’s always had her head screwed on straight,” Tess admonished. “She’s not selfish. That’s more than anyone can say about Lydia.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t see her mother in her.”
“In some ways, yes. She can be impulsive at times, and restless like you said, but—” Tess jerked her head toward the door, as if she heard something that alerted her of a presence on the other side.
Annie counted to five then stepped in, noting their startled expressions.
“Well!” Tawney said and clapped her hands. “There’s our girl. We were getting worried about you.”
Beyond the door, the music changed to Pachelbel’s Canon in D, Annie’s cue to leave for the sanctuary. She looked from one aunt to the other. If Tawney was right and her father was grooming Lance to take over the bank, she had only been fooling herself to think they would ever be equal partners. After they married, her life would be little more than that of a wealthy man’s wife, one busy with chairing fundraising benefits, entertaining her husband’s clients, their friends. A life as a middle-aged Savannah socialite.
Her mother’s life.
Is that what drove Lydia to her death? Had those trips to New York been her attempt to escape a life that didn’t fit her? In that moment, Annie longed to talk to her mother, to ask Lydia’s advice and hear her side of the story. Had she once been as confused as Annie was now? Loving and wanting to please Milford, but needing something other than the life he offered? Had her mother felt trapped and unfilled and bored to tears?
“I need to talk to Lance,” she said. She would ask him point blank why he wanted to marry her, if he loved her, or if he only wanted her inheritance.
“But, Annie…” Tawney stepped toward her, reaching out a hand. “Vivienne will be here any minute.”
“Chirping orders and fluttering about like a sparrow on speed, no doubt.” Tess rolled her eyes and pulled a cigarette from the package in Sara’s purse. “Some wedding planner. She’s late.” She met Annie’s gaze and nodded at the door. “Go talk to Lance. I’ll tell Vivienne to cool her jets.”
Annie swung around and started from the room. Seconds later, at Lance’s dressing room door, she knocked once then went in without an invitation.
Lance and Vivienne jumped apart, their eyes wide and startled. Vivienne tugged the hem of her dress down over her hips. Lance’s hand flew up to his crooked bow tie.
Annie stared at them, waiting for a stab of pain that never came. She only felt a gnawing ache of humiliation and betrayal that swiftly transformed into disappointment before morphing into sadness. Then, just as quickly, relief swept through her. Lance had just confirmed that her misgivings about marrying him were justified. She was doing the right thing by walking away. Sara had been right about him all along. He didn’t give a whit about her; he only wanted the financial and career fringe benefits that a marriage to her would provide.
“I wasn’t aware that that particular service was included in your fee,” she said to Vivienne. Shifting her focus to Lance she added, “Or did you pay extra for it?”
“Annie...” His face flushed maroon.
“You two just made what I came here to say a whole lot easier.” She pulled off the ridiculous, itchy veil, tossed it to Vivienne, scratched her head. “I don’t want to marry you, Lance.”
As Trumpet Voluntary began playing in the sanctuary, Annie turned and left without waiting for Lance to respond.
At noon the next day, Annie sat across a table from her Aunt Tess. Every noise in the café entered her ears and banged against her brain. “Thanks for coming,” she said, spooning sugar into her tea.
Tess slipped off her reading glasses, set them aside along with the menu. “Are you hungover?”
“I wish. At least then I’d have some fun memories to go along with this headache.” She stirred the tea. “I didn’t sleep last night.”
Tess’s jaw clenched. “Firing Lance Holcomb isn’t enough punishment for what he did to you. And with the wedding planner. How cliché. Your father should’ve strangled him.”
“Daddy fired Lance?” Annie sat straighter.
“Last night. You haven’t talked to your father?”
“No.” She hadn’t picked up his calls. “I wanted to talk to you first. I guess I’m a little upset with him. A lot upset. And confused.” Noticing Tess’s baffled expression, she continued, “It wasn’t what Lance did that kept me up last night. I was thinking about Mama.”
Tess met her gaze, held it. “You heard Tawney and I talking, didn’t you?” Without waiting for an answer, she slumped back against the chair, crossed her arms and sighed. “I’m sorry, Annie.”
“Daddy’s been lying to me, hasn’t he? All these years.”
“No, Annie, not lying, really. Just—”
“Not telling the whole truth.”
“You were so young when the accident happened. He wanted to spare you more pain.”
“I’m not young now. I haven’t been for years.” She stared across at her aunt. “Was my mother having an affair?”
Tess bowed her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Lord. You should ask your father these questions.”
“I’m asking you. You and I have never played games with each other. Let’s not start now.”
Tess looked up and said, “I don’t know if she was having an affair. That’s the truth.”
“Aunt Tawney said there was someone in the car with her when it crashed. Was it a man?” Tess’s silence was all the answer she needed. Annie studied the older woman’s nervous expression for a minute as a multitude of unnamed emotions twisted and tangled inside her. Finally, she asked,“Who was he?”
“Digging all this up won’t bring your mother back. It won’t change anything.”
“I need to know.” Annie leaned in across the table. “I’m forty years old and suddenly I realize I don’t even know who my mother was, who I am or what I want to do with the rest of my life. I feel like I’ve wasted so many years.” She covered her aunt’s wrinkled hand with her own on the tabletop. “Aunt Tawney said I’m like her. So did you. Apparently my father thinks so, too. And that frightens him enough that he’s been desperate to find someone to act as my watch dog before he has to give up the duty.”
“That’s not how it is, Annie.”
“That is how it is. It occurred to me last night that Daddy introduced me to all three men I’ve been engaged to.”
Tess bent her head and stared down at her lap.
“I’m the same age she was when she died, do you realize that? Maybe if I understood—” Her throat closed and she looked away.
“Okay.” Tess glanced up, wariness in her eyes. “You are like Lydia in a lot of ways. But you’re different, too. You’re your own person. Understanding your mother isn’t necessarily the key to understanding yourself.”
“But it might be. I need the truth. Why was my mother traveling to New York? I know she wasn’t doing charity work.”
Tess stared at her a minute then said, “Lydia was bored. At first she did go for the charity, then she resigned her position, but we didn’t know that for awhile. Judging by the little your father was able to learn after the accident, we think she might’ve been trying to set things up so that she could move there.”
“You mean leave Daddy.”
“Yes.”
“And me.”
“I can’t answer that. Nobody can. Your father did some investigating and found out she’d invested the part of her inheritance she hadn’t already spent in some sort of business venture that never played out.”
Sadness swam through Annie. “When I think about her…she seemed withdrawn and tired a lot of the time. And not only that last year. I didn’t dwell on it much back then. But looking back now that I’m older, I can’t help wondering if she was depressed because she hated her life here.”
“Lydia did see a doctor for depression. She had trouble sleeping. But knowing her, I’m not sure she would’ve been any happier doing anything else, anywhere else.”
Annie didn’t want to believe that. She wanted to believe that her family was wrong about her mother, that they simply had not understood her. “The man in the car…you didn’t tell me his name.”
Tess closed her eyes briefly. Said, “Milford’s going to kill me.” Sighed. “His name was Reno. Fred or Frank… something like that. Your father had him checked out afterward. He was just some flashy, loud-mouthed loser who owned a club or two in the city. I can’t imagine what Lydia was doing getting mixed up with someone like him, but we found out he’s the person she invested the money with.”
“You said ‘was’. Did he die, too?”
“No, he survived. With little more than a few scratches, actually. It was his car, by the way. Your mother was driving and he was in the passenger seat. We don’t know why.”
“Did Daddy confront him?”
“No. What good would it do? It wouldn’t bring Lydia back. And, honestly, I think he was afraid of finding out something about her he didn’t want to know.” Tess leaned in across the table. “Whatever you’re thinking, Annie, let it drop. You might not want to know, either.” Blinking, Tess scanned the café and said, “What’s taking our waitress so long?”
Noting her aunt’s escalating nervousness, Annie said, “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
After a long stretch of silence, Tess blinked at her, released a long breath and said, “It’s only speculation, but after talking with several witnesses to the accident, the authorities thought Lydia might’ve driven off the bridge on purpose.”
Like what you've read? ORDER IT!
From the book Annie on the Lam: The Christmas Caper by Jennifer Archer
Harlequin Pub Date 12/07
ISBN 0-373-88148-7
Copyright 2007 By Jennifer Archer
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher
The edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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