Charles’s shoulders squared, and he had that look in his eyes he’d always gotten right before he shoved the knife in. “Thank you for making my point so eloquently. This really is about future generations, of which you have no part of. I’m the best person to think of my children. You don’t have any. You live a selfish life.”

“I was joking about the switch before,” his mother said, her tone going serious. “I’m rethinking my position now.”

Maybe Louis would have to protect Charles.

“I’m sorry to have upset you, Aunt Cricket. I know your health is a delicate thing right now,” Charles said in smooth tones. “But Rene needs to understand that Aunt Roberta won’t accept some store-bought wife, no matter how attractive she is.”

“Cricket, honey, you don’t need a switch. I’ll take care of him. I know a couple of spells.”

Rene winced because he knew that no-nonsense voice. He turned and Marcelle Martine was standing in front of the registration desk. She was five-foot-ten in flats, and wore her silk headwrap like a crown. His mother might be the kindly queen mother of the town, but Marcelle ran the only salon, and no one who wanted a decent haircut crossed her.

“Miss Marcelle, I’m sorry you witnessed that family fight.” Charles’s expression had smoothed out. He was smart enough to know the power Marcelle wielded. “My cousin and I have a disagreement, but we shouldn’t argue in public. Please excuse us.”

Charles stared at her like she was going to go away and they would be able to continue the argument.

Was she here to tell him Sylvie wasn’t coming?

His mother moved forward, opening her arms for Marcelle. “Marcelle, isn’t it wonderful? I can’t tell you how happy I am that Sylvie will be part of our family. I swear it’s the best news I’ve had in years. I cried when Rene told me.”

Marcelle wrapped his mother up in a loving hug, reminding him that while Marcelle might be a titan of the town, she’d earned that title through the way she took care of people. “It’s time. We’ve been family for years. It might not have been legal, but it was real. You don’t worry about a thing, Cricket. My Sylvie is going to make everything right. But we need to talk to these youngsters about a proper wedding when we have more time.”

“I think you’ll find Cricket is already planning a second wedding.” Louis had settled back against one of the big desks, obviously satisfied that Charles wouldn’t try anything around Marcelle.

Rene felt something ease deep inside when Sylvie rounded the corner wearing a lovely white sheath and killer heels, the bouquet of irises in her hands.