LaSalle Crossing Season 10

Episode 1: Crystal

"Spanish moss hung low on the ancient oak trees as secrets whispered in the breeze. Down in LaSalle Crossing, where the past won't let go and secrets never stay hidden away."

Back to LaSalle Crossing, season 10

Belle Rive Condos
Saturday, May 16, 2026
7:30 a.m.

The delicious scent of jasmine was what woke up Judge Francis Fontaine from his peaceful slumber after the hours of pleasure he and Ashley Fortman had indulged in last night. Before his bleary eyes even popped open, a knowing grin spread his lips. After their second date, they'd ended up in her next-door condo, sipping at the very pricey wine he'd purchased in the Big Easy, but somehow the lovely and cultured Ashley had convinced him that they should head over to his place.

Maybe it was the package of freshly bought condoms that resided in his dresser drawer next to the neatly stacked pile of his leopard-print underwear and all his favorite "toys." His smile grew at the memory of Chief Judge Harlan's clerk's playful laughing as she finally said his first name. Actually, he thought, as he stretched his bare tanned arms over his head, Miss Fortman had screamed it.

Francis.

A warmth hit his exposed groin. Then Miss Prim and Proper had literally begged to use up almost the whole box of condoms. Who would have dreamed she'd have such energy and imagination?

"So, what do you say about a little quickie before I fix you some breakfast in bed, ma petite?" Francis opened his eyes, looking at the spot beside him in his king-size, silk-sheeted bed.

The space that Ashley should have still been resting on, her creamy white body as naked as the day she'd been born. His brow furrowed.  Except she was gone.

A cold shiver overtook him. She'd taken off without a single see ya later. Or until next time. Or anything. His stomach clenched. Usually, in the past, he had preferred his ladies be out by sunrise, but with this one... it was different. And he didn't even know how or why it was.

As he sat up, the sheet and satin blanket slipping unnoticed off of him, Francis pondered if he should put on some clothes and go to her condo. Suggest breakfast at one of the town's restaurants? His fingers trembled upon his legs. Would that be too... needy? Clingy?

He didn't have the faintest clue. Nothing like this had ever happened to him. Why would it? He shook his head, jaw set stubbornly. What the hell game was that woman playing?

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7:35 a.m.

While Francis was still trapped in a rare state of afterglow confusion, in the neighboring condominium, his missing bedmate Ashley was presently seated at the breakfast bar in her trendy kitchen. She was still dressed in the long, tea-style dress from last night, a devious smirk marring her usual prettiness. In front of her was the high-tech laptop that was open to the email she was in the process of writing to her boss Chief Judge Jacqueline Harlan. The chief judge who loathed the likes of Francis Fontaine. If it wasn't for that old judge falling out of a tree, he'd never be sitting on the bench. Just like if Harlan's first perfect court clerk hadn't "accidentally" tumbled down the courthouse back steps, Ashley wouldn't be "blessed" to be at the beck and call of the old crone.

The smirk increased. In her head, she could still see her middle-aged predecessor falling down three flights of stairs while she herself stood disguised at the top. Oh, it was so awful the poor thing broke her hip and suffered a tad of short-term memory loss. Awful for the clumsy fool, but excellent in the life of Ashley Fortman, a newcomer from Boston.

Her hands swiftly, without hesitation, typed the damning words: You were right about Judge Fontaine, ma'am. The man is sexually harassing me to the point of stalking. He won't take no for an answer. I have tried to be as professional and polite as possible, but I really don't know what to do anymore.

Her fingers paused on the lighted keyboard. A taunting laugh flowed out of her.

"This is exactly what you deserve, you bastard." Ashley clicked the send on the message, satisfaction surging through her that overwhelmed the emotions she'd faked last night with Mister Southern Fried Stud. Leaning back on her stool, Ashley snapped, "This is for my sister. One of your many flings you probably don't even remember." She closed the laptop. "But you will remember the names Ashley and Crystal Fontelli."