A Lasting Impression

to regain her thoughts, she wondered what she’d said to provoke such a response. “I was thinking that we could invite his friends, of which I’m sure there are many.”
    The boy’s air of disinterest plummeted to full-fledged boredom.
    Claire decided to skip her rehearsed introduction and jump ahead to the best part. “This morning, I browsed in town and found the most wonderful puppet shop. I thought we could—”
    “Not puppets again !” Claude sighed. “We saw those in Europe. Over and over . . .”
    Pauline sat straighter. “I like puppets! Especially when they hit each other!” She smacked her fork against her spoon. But only once. A cowing look from her mother saw to that.
    William exhaled. “Puppets are for children.” He rolled his eyes. “And I’m not a child anymore.”
    “Now, now . . .” Mrs. Acklen lifted her chin. “You will keep your comments to yourself and allow Miss Laurent to finish her thoughts. I’m certain she has other ideas.”
    She told herself not to, but Claire glanced across the table only to discover Mr. Monroe’s gaze now confined to his plate, which somehow only deepened her embarrassment.
    “Yes, ma’am . . . I have other ideas.” She took a breath, willing her forced enthusiasm to sound authentic, and hoping Mrs. Acklen wouldn’t consider this next idea too indulgent. “I’ll need to explore the logistics, of course, but imagine how exciting it would be to ride in a hot air balloon!” She paused to let the idea take flight, as it were. “We could hire a balloonist to take the chil—” She caught herself. “To take William and his friends for a ride. We would have the balloon tethered, of course, so that it would be secure. Less risk for injury or mishap.”
    Claire had trouble gauging their reactions to the idea, so she pressed on. “I’ve actually seen these balloons before. Once,” she admitted. “They’re quite beautiful, and the experience looks like it would be a memorable one.”
    The expressions of Mrs. Acklen and her sons could best be described as complacent. Little Pauline, her eyes wide, seemed close to bursting with excitement yet remained compliantly silent. It was Sutton Monroe’s expression—the flicker of compassion, however fleeting—that explained everything.
    Claire’s throat tightened. Her face burned with embarrassment. “You’ve already done that too, I suppose.”
    “In Paris,” William said, his tone gloating. “We flew the balloon over the city. Without a tether.”
    “However”—Mrs. Acklen cast a sharp glance at her middle son before looking back at Claire—“your description of the experience is most accurate, Miss Laurent. It was a memorable part of our journey.”
    It was all Claire could do to nod.
    “Well . . .” Mrs. Acklen rang the silver bell beside her place setting. “I think that’s enough conversation about the party for now.”
    Claire bowed her head as familial conversation resumed. She sensed Mr. Monroe’s attention but didn’t dare look across the table. The last thing she wanted to see was his pity.
    Hearing footsteps in the hallway, she glanced at the others’ plates. All empty. Hers was still half full. Despite having failed miserably to impress them, she was still hungry, but she wasn’t about to ask to be given more time.
    A dessert plate was placed where her dinner plate had been, and the serving of petits fours glacés blurred in Claire’s vision. Her mother had always loved these tiny little iced cakes. Claire gritted her teeth until her jaw ached, refusing to give in to the slow-burning truth flickering inside her. She knew she didn’t belong. In this house, in this position, in this make-believe kind of world.
    And what was worse—she slid a look across the table—Sutton Monroe knew it too.

14

    M ay I have a word with you, Miss Laurent?” Sutton could tell by the way she’d avoided his gaze during dessert, and how she’d bolted from the family dining room, that a word with him was the last thing she wanted. And he couldn’t say he blamed her. Not after what she’d just been through.
    He understood her desire for a hasty retreat and empathized with her embarrassment, but he needed to properly congratulate her on getting the job, regardless of how he felt about it. And equally as important, he wanted to lay the groundwork for their working together. However brief a time that might prove to be.
    She paused by the staircase and turned back, wearing a pasted-on smile