Chapter Thirty-One

Gratifying to watch the clumps of moss, a rain of brown oak leaves, and other grunge sluice off the slates. Some of the crew watched in the attic of the Queen for water leaking through. Outside, Remy and Julia stood while the mildew and grime and the ugly graffiti washed from the walls and the fluted pillars of the portico leaving behind a rather weathered gray surface she couldn’t wait to restore. Her roofer noted very few holes, some cracked slates, some blown away in storms. At least, the previous owners had kept the covering over their heads in decent condition. The man brought along a supply of material to match samples sent by Julia who’d harvested them from the site. Once the sun dried the tiles, his guys would be up on top repairing the worst of damage.

Striding around in her hardhat, jeans, and Regal Restorations shirt, Julia called to Todd to follow her on an inspection of the exterior walls, marking spots needing repair. In some cases, just minor cracks, while in other places the bare bones of bricks showed through. They made notes and marked the areas requiring their attention. That done, she went inside and bounded up the staircase to the ballroom and her true love—that coffered ceiling. The scaffolding her uncles set to reach up to the sixteen-foot vault stood sturdy and ready to bear her weight. She scrambled agilely to the top and waved to Remy far below.

“Attach your lifeline,” he ordered.

“Will do, but I’ve never fallen on any of my jobs.”

“I can think of a dozen platitudes right now. Always a first time. Better safe than sorry.”

“I’ll be right here with her,” Todd said. “Don’t you have other business to attend to—or are you only for decoration?”

“Todd! Stop sniping and get to work cleaning the walls so we can do an assessment in here.” Julia’s voice echoed in the vastness of the ballroom.

“Sorry if my work is less glamorous, Todd. I have extra portable toilets arriving this morning to accommodate more workers.” He cocked his head back to address Julia. “One of them is marked Ladies especially for you.”

Julia’s laughter bounced off the walls. “That’s sweet, but believe it or not, I’ve peed in the same hole as men plenty of times. Yes, you are messy pigs who can’t hit the mark, but I can live with it.”

“Won’t have to this time. I’ll be back later with lunch.” Without a glance at Todd, Remy left to attend to his own duties, far more complicated than traveling outhouses.

Julia went about her business, shining her flashlight on each coffer, choosing the ones in best condition, clearing the cobwebs and dust with a soft brush, getting them ready to make the molds for replacements. She mapped out the repairs needed for each one on a grid, climbing down to help Todd move the platform and lock it into place again as she progressed. He sent up tools in a bucket if she needed extras and retrieved any that fell to the covered parquet floor, a mistake she rarely made.

Sweaty and grimy, she clambered down the scaffolding at noon when Remy appeared holding up a large Subway bag. “Roast beef for me, chicken for you, and cheese with extra veggies for Todd,” he listed.

“Did you get something for my uncles?”

“Sure, twelve-inch meatballs, what else? Also, chips, drinks, and a packet of apples for Todd.”

“Good job. Let’s go outside and sit in the shade where it’s less stifling.”

“Yeah, opening those old windows didn’t help much. I want to get the electrical contractor here as soon as possible to pull new wiring, maybe hook up some fans soon.”

They left the building and made themselves comfortable—or as comfortable as one could be in ninety-degree heat and eighty percent humidity—under one of the oaks after washing up at the tap. Remy tossed Todd his sandwich, apples, and a bottle of water. The younger man unwrapped his meal.

“What do you say, Todd?” Julia prompted, much as a mother would have a child.

“Thanks. You’re a great gofer, Rem.” Her intern showed no shame for the remark.

Julia stood up to give herself a superior position to the seated Todd. “I’ve had enough of this! Remy is acting as both architect and general contractor on this job. He’s my boss, and I’m yours. You’ll treat both of us with respect.”

“I’ve always had respect for you, Julia. It’s him…”

“No. You’ve reached a point where you are somewhat useful to Regal Restorations, and we’d like to keep you on, but anymore of this attitude, and you’re gone.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Todd buried his burning face in the sub.

Julia noticed Remy’s smile at the use of the local idiom. Todd was catching on in more ways than one. Remy let her handle to the situation, and she appreciated that. She appreciated him more at the end of the day when he encouraged her to soak in his luxury bath. He took a quick shower before slipping in behind her, rubbing her sore shoulders and massaging her scalp as she washed her hair. If his erection did pop up suggestively between her legs, Remy didn’t press the matter. At one point, she drifted off to sleep lounging against his chest and woke to find herself swathed in one of his thick black towels and covered by the zebra hide while he reheated leftover Chinese food in the microwave. She did make it up to him later in the evening.

It occurred to her that of the two of them, Remy was the romantic, the dreamer with his Black Diamonds project on hold while she had saved the Queen and lived to restore her. As soon as she could, she’d have to give some attention to more than his sexual needs.

****

Except for the snide comments from Todd—and Julia had handled that well, preventing him from knocking the guy’s head against the rough bark of the oak to pound some respect into him—Remy considered the first day of the restoration project a success. He and the HVAC contractor traced the old air-conditioning ducts from the 1920s to see if they could be used for the new units to be sited next to the reconstructed kitchen and masked from the guests by shrubs. Perhaps, they might hide new ducts in the ballroom behind the plaster pilasters Julia wanted.

Running new wiring in a building as old and solid as the Queen, never easy, but after a consult with the electrician, they figured on coming down from the attic for the fourth and third floors. That the coffered ceiling in the ballroom hung from an old iron framework and hooks made the task of wiring for the chandeliers a relative breeze. Gratifying work.

But on the second day, little things began to go wrong. It seemed to Remy that he spent more time putting out small fires like pinhole leaks in the water line and having the power restored after a midnight storm rather than making forward progress. Irksome to arrive at work and find Julia’s Ladies toilet tipped over by high winds, or maybe not since all the others still stood stalwartly in a row. Whether a childish prank or true vandalism didn’t matter. The men on the job shoved it upright again, and Todd hosed it out for the use of his boss. Every minor problem meant a delay, and delays cost money, running up the cost of the project.

Yes, he suspected Todd of trying to drive him crazy. A security light burned bright on the property now, and the uncles camped there in the motorhome, but both of them slept like corpses and snored like freight trains after a day of work and a couple of beers. Easy for Todd to sneak out and do the damage. Yet, Remy hesitated to discuss his suspicions with Julia. She’d defend Todd, and they’d have their first real argument since he’d agreed to partner with Hartz. At home, all went smoothly. He wanted it to stay that way.

In the past, he’d never given his sexual partners a thought from the time they left his bed until they got together again. As long as their drama didn’t touch him—he’d learned well to avoid those types from his college girlfriend—the affair ran on until both grew bored or found someone else. Not so with Julia. He doubted she’d ever prove boring. She might prefer another. Once, he’d vowed to figure her out, but it appeared she’d been the one to unravel Remy Broussard.

For so long, he’d walked the line between his cruder small-town relatives and the more sophisticated life of his parents near New Orleans. When he’d reached the age of rebellion and insisted on knowing why he had to spend his summer in boring old Chapelle, his mother sat him down and revealed that Patty swore that if Melody tried to cut off access, she’d sue for custody of her son’s children. Unfit parents, she’d claim, involved in adultery and wife-swapping.

“Why would she say that? Was it true?” Remy asked his mother, so afraid it might be.

“No, but the Broussards can always come up with witnesses to anything when necessary. Your grandmother tried to break our marriage. When that didn’t work and we moved away from her sphere of influence, she simply tried another tactic. We weren’t trying to steal you away from your father’s family, only save ourselves. So, we struck up a deal of summers in Chapelle. You did enjoy them when you were small: fishing with your grandfather, wienie roasts, and street fairs. Amelia loved the endless trips to the mall and all the stuff they bought her. She wiggled her way out by asking them to send her to music camp and horseback riding camp and trips to Europe as she got older. That made them hold on even tighter to you.”

Remy’s reluctance to stay with them got him a vehicle, that cherry red Mustang, to drive to the larger pleasures of Lafayette and their rental of a summer house in Cypremort Point with boating and Ski-doos, fishing and shrimp boils, plus lots of babes in bikinis. He’d gotten out of working as a busboy at the Barn to learn the family business. NuNu, a kid at the time, took the offered place clearing tables and scraping garbage off the plates in the kitchen. Yes, Remy guessed he’d been spoiled—but not by his parents who expected hard work academically.

The biggest bribe to stay in the area was the sliver of land his house sat on and hope of building his premier project. As he put together dinner for the woman in his bed, he knew he’d throw it all over and follow Julia to New Orleans if she asked.