Chapter Thirty-Four

Julia waved Remy off the next day with a cheery, “Good luck.” Giving him a ten-minute head start that seemed like an hour, she finally dashed to her truck and drove helter-skelter to the prim white cottage engulfed in purple crepe myrtles that Miss Lolly shared with Miss Maxie. Feeling a little guilty about asking the elderly woman to wait on the curb to save time, she started to get down to help her aboard, but Lolly already had the door open.

The retired teacher did accept a hand extended across the front seat to haul her into the cab. “Not too decrepit to seat myself.” Lolly settled herself and crisply snapped the seatbelt.

As Julia expected, Remy had already gone inside by the time they arrived at the Barn. Welcome or not, she helped Miss Lolly down. They proceeded to the old general merchandise, more a convenience store now, that fronted the Barn. A burly man running the cash register stepped out from behind the counter when they headed directly to the corridor leading to the interior. “Can I help you ladies find something?”

Pretty sure the guy wasn’t there only to sell potato chips, Julia answered with a smile, “I’m bringing some papers forgotten by Mr. Remington Broussard to the meeting.” She figured nearly everyone there answered to the same last name.

“The old lady too?” Such suspicion.

“Well, I couldn’t leave her in the truck on a hot day like this. The elderly dehydrate so rapidly.”

“Humph,” uttered Miss Lolly, miffed at having her role in the adventure mitigated. She peered hard at the young man. “I do believe I taught your mama in grade school. How is she doing these days?”

“Ah, good I guess, but…”

“You should never have to guess about your mama’s status. Give her a call right now, and we’ll proceed to the meeting.”

“Only Remy was expected.”

Julia waved the papers in his face. “He needs these asap!”

Before the man could react, a long, dark shadow fell over their group as the door opened again. Merlin Tauzin stood for a moment letting his eyes adjust to the dim interior, prepared to fight a hidden enemy. His big, black-stubbled chin hardened. His blue eyes burned cold. “Let them in, Len. I’ll vouch for their behavior.”

Eyeing Jane tucked against her husband’s side, Len answered, “It’s a private meeting. Some women are born to cause trouble.”

“Not this time. Move along, ladies.” Merlin Tauzin walked behind covering their backs in case Len might go for the pearl-handled pistol known to be kept under the counter. Unfortunately, they had to move at Miss Lolly’s pace. The corridor connecting the store to the Barn seemed to telescope in length as they crept slowly toward the rough voices sounding in the cavernous space ahead.

“I tell you, me, I got nuttin’ to do with dat new fire. You took your beating like a man for selling out da family. I give you immunity for your woman and dat old hotel. You callin’ me a liar, Remy?” A solid fist pounded on a tabletop and set coffee cups clattering as their group entered. Old Broussard sat enthroned in his oversized chair and surrounded by his usual retinue.

Slick Broussard was first to his feet. Ignoring the women, he said, “Blackie, what are you doing way out here?”

Merlin, responding to his old nickname, answered, “Escorting my wife to this meeting. I understand she and these other ladies have something to add.”

“Your wife always got something to add.”

“Mais, yeah. If she didn’t push for dat ordinance stopping trash burning in the parish, you coulda torched dat trash pile yourself and saved lots of money on dump trucks and tippage. Someone done you a favor, boy,” Old Broussard said to Remy.

“Accidental brush fires are down fifty percent, the fire chief says. That saves the taxpayer money—and the air is cleaner,” Jane answered, not willing to be ignored. “I wish I could have gotten the council to ban burning off the cane stubble in the fall too.”

Blackie Tauzin clamped a firm hand on her shoulder. “Not going to happen with all the influence the cane farmers have. Take your victories where you can, babe. Now, let the other women have their say.”

“You should put a hand over her mouth,” Slick suggested with an angry glance at Jane.

“Oh, she’d just bite me.”

Slick reconsidered Jane, not the flashiest woman he’d ever seen, and everyone knew he loved flashy. “I do like me a woman with spirit.”

“You’d have to fight me for her.” Having no idea what role Miss Lolly planned to play, Merlin redirected the conversation to Julia. “I believe Ms. Rossi has some important information you need to hear.”

“Ah, yes, I see you started with coffee and haven’t gotten to this part yet,” Julia said.

Miss Lolly moved glacially but steadily toward Old Broussard who pushed his bulk up by the thick arms of his special chair to honor her presence. “Slick, get my favorite teacher a chair. Pour her some coffee.” After a moment, he sank into his seat like a heap of lava hardening into place.

The large pot sat on the table, no NuNu in sight to pour. Slick obeyed and moved the sugar and milk closer if she desired any.

All tucked in, Lolly said, “Why, thank you, Arnault. You were one of my favorite students too. Let’s hear what Julia has to say.”

Jules went to stand beside Remy, almost touching elbows with him. “It’s come to our attention that you own the land where the Indian mounds sit and lease it for sugar cane farming to the Patin family.”

Old Broussard heaved the fat of his shoulders. “Yeah, so, been knowing dem for years. Da Broussards bought dat field during da Depression when lotsa land went up for sale.” He turned a hostile, piggy gaze on Jane. “Dis gonna be some kind of trouble with da Chitimacha tribe wanting their sacred land back? Dat why you here?”

Jane, leaning comfortably against her husband since they hadn’t been offered a place at the table, shook her head. “Not that I know of—but I believe those mounds precede their occupation in the area.”

“Good, I didn’t never let nobody dig in dose hills ’cause maybe we have some Injun blood in the family way back from when da Cajuns first come here.”

“We plan to honor that in the new Black Diamonds development,” Julia rushed to say. “Remy is the artist, but I took the liberty of sketching in the layout of the site. I am aware he wanted his buildings to reflect in the bayou, or in this case the lake. Instead of one long mass of buildings, we’ve split them in two to be built on either side of the mounds with a tower on each end. On the roadside, the planned gardens, pool, clubhouse—and a small museum at the base of the mounds to explain your heritage to visitors.” Grateful he hadn’t dressed up for this meeting, she grabbed a carpenter’s pencil from Remy’s hip pocket and added a new square to the plat. “There, the museum. If we can get permission from Jonathan Hartz, a dock and boat launch might be added to give access to the lake. I can envision the clientele of this project fishing and bird watching. Both hobbies have his approval.” She paused to take in some air.

Jane chipped in by saying, “Once the crop is in, we could do an environmental impact study and get some salvage archaeologists from the university to search the base of the mounds for artifacts. They could also use ground penetrating radar to look inside without disturbing them.”

“Probably hold up the project for years,” Slick complained.

Miss Lolly jumped right over his protest. “Isn’t that exciting, Arnault?—how they can use technology to search without destroying.” She squeezed the obese arm of her former student.

“Gimme a looksee.” Old Broussard seized the plat and shared it reverently with his teacher. “I like dis, me. Why you don’t come right out and show me dese plans, Remy? On doit pas se plainer avec le ventre plein.”

“That’s translates as don’t complain on a full stomach. I have some Cajun in my background just as you have Native American. My grandfather spoke nothing but French. You are supposed to use the term Native American now, Arnault, not Injun,” Miss Lolly directed, ever the instructor.

Remy, his face dark, said, “Neither project can go ahead while we are concerned with safety. I don’t see NuNu lurking around today. Where was he on Saturday night?”

“Not here. We caught him doing crystal meth. You know how the old man feels about that shit. Give him two weeks’ notice, but he came in next day and said he got a regular job better than flippin’ burgers, and we could just fuck off,” Slick said. “Sorry for the language, Miss Lolly.”

“Where?”

“Don’t know.”

“I told him las’ time you come here to let t’ings be, but dat boy, he tetu.” Old Broussard knocked a pudgy fist against his head.

“Hardheaded,” Miss Lolly said. “But you are not, Arnault. I failed to teach you good English, but oh, how you shone in mathematics. No wonder you’ve made such a big success of the Barn, better than in your grandfather’s day when I sometimes shook a leg out here. You should grasp this new opportunity.”

“Your investment money is still in the bank. I told Slick to pass that along to you. Not a cent is going into the Queen.”

“He tole me, Remy.” Old Broussard stroked his bristly multiple chins.

“I also recall your keen interest in history. That explains why you kept those mounds safe from destruction. Perhaps you’d like to contribute to the restoration of the Queen. I am sure Remy would place your name on one of the rooms.” Miss Lolly maundered on as if this idea just occurred to her.

Julia held her breath. Truly, she didn’t want her beautiful ballroom to be named for the graceless Arnault Broussard. Remy came up with an immediate and better idea.

“We have a magnificent mahogany bar we’re having refurbished off-site, and we’re rebuilding a modern kitchen. How does Broussard’s Bar and Eatery sound to you?”

“Too many Broussards around here. How about T-Fat’s Bar and Restaurant? Me, I could kick in for fixin’ up dat bar.”

“Oh, but Arnault, you shouldn’t call yourself that. It is degrading,” Miss Lolly said.

“Miss Lolly, you about da only one who remembers my given name is Arnault. And look, me, I’m fat.” Old Broussard flapped his flesh-heavy arms. “It ain’t no insult now. I’m as famous around here as Fats Domino. Dat name never did him no harm.”

Remy proposed the compromise. “T-Fats’ Bar and Arnault’s Eatery.”

“Bon. Shake on it now, but gimme some papers soon. I got to tell the Patins dere’s another sugar cane field gone. They ain’t gonna like it, but too bad.” He summoned Remy forward and engulfed his hand.

“It’s a deal, Nonc.”

“All you, sit down. Have some coffee before you go. Slick, you talk to your boy again when you find him. Say Old Broussard wants the Queen left alone—and dis lady here with da big plans.” He gestured to Julia to sit on his left. “See if we got any cookies in da kitchen too.”

No cookies, but Slick returned with a pecan pie—one of the few desserts the Barn offered besides ice cream and bread pudding. With a fist full of forks, a knife, and a stack of plates crowded onto a tray, he muttered about his no-good son NuNu as he set the places. Old Broussard sent him back for a container of vanilla ice cream to top the pie all around. Julia ate her portion with gusto. She’d work it off today and with a clear mind—the Queen saved, and Black Diamonds being built. Both problems solved.