Chapter 4

 

 

A breeze stirred the leaves of swamp oak. Bright sparkles of sunshine bounced off the ripples of Bayou Latte. Rae stood on the bank in a clearing where small boats were turned upside down, waiting for their owners to come back. This was one of the many places where fishermen launched, to head off deeper into the swamps and bayous in search of speckled trout, choupic or catfish.

Rae savored the feel of warm air brushing across her skin. It brought relief from the hot sun. Yet she did not mind the heat. She enjoyed the smell of the fish and wet earth, and the sound of birds calling to one another. Nowhere else was she so much at peace. Even when she was a child, she never felt rejected on the bayou. Memories of crawfishing with Lucien came flashing back as vividly as a technicolor movie. They would follow the waterway into Bayou Choctaw and then on to Houmas Swamp. All bitterness could be forgotten back in the bayous.

Rae gasped at the sight of a man standing about sixty yards away on the bank. He was dressed in a red shirt and blue jeans. His brown skin glistened. For a moment, he bore a striking resemblance to Lucien. Rae blinked away tears. If only it were him. There had been so much left unsaid between them. That’s what made death so painful for survivors, the unfinished business of life.

“Hey, tryin’ to catch some dinner?” Andrew called in a voice full of cheer.

Rae turned away as he approached, hastily wiping her face dry with a bandanna taken from her back pocket.

“You skipping another day of work? It’s a wonder you have a job, Andy,” Rae said when he got about fifty yards away. She used his old, childhood nickname.

“Contrary to popular rumor, I work hard. I got off at two, sure, but I went to work for six this morning,” Andrew yelled back. He closed the distance between them in no time with his long-legged stride. “Say, you all right?”

“Sure, nothing wrong with me.” Rae wiped her face with a hand.

Andrew peered at her. “You’ve been crying. Come here, cher.” He wrapped her in a sweaty embrace.

“Go on now, I said I’m okay.” Despite her words, Rae leaned against his chest. She pushed away from him after a few seconds. “Whew! You smell like crawfish.”

“You ain’t exactly smelling like a rose yourself,” Andrew teased. He pinched her chin with affection before looking out over the water. “Yep, Daddy is all over this place. I feel him myself when I’m out here.” He did not have to ask what prompted her tears.

“Daddy was always a contradiction, Andy. Somehow he held onto this land. But he’d stay drunk for days, yelling and playing that accordion.” Rae sat down, Indian-style, on a grassy mound. Andrew plopped beside her.

“One thing he wouldn’t do was lose Pawpaw’s land; been in the family for almost a hundred years. Our great-grandfather had to fight to hold onto it,” Andrew said.

Raimond Dalcour’s white grandfather had left no legitimate direct heirs. Yet his nieces and nephews had filed a lawsuit, which went on for seven years, trying to take it from him. Amazingly, the courts upheld Raimond’s claim since both whites and blacks wrote letters attesting to it.

“You know he paid the taxes on time. Even paid back his Uncle Jules those times he had to borrow from him to do it,” Rae said.

“He had his faults, our Papa, but he wouldn’t let go of his heritage.” Andrew spoke with fierce pride in his voice. “He always said we’d get rich one day because of it.”

Rae looked at him. “Andy, I met with Simon St. Cyr yesterday. He wants to buy part of the land.”

Andrew grinned at her. “Wish I coulda been there when you told him to go to hell and take his no-good grandfather right along with him.”

“That’s not what I told him.” Rae shifted under his gaze.

“Then what exactly did you say?”

“I told him I’d get back to him after talking it over with you and Neville, and–”

Andrew lifted a shoulder. “Okay, so you were polite. Now you can tell him no.”

“Andy, I... I think we ought to consider it. Neville wants to sell.” Rae thought of her older brother. Neville wanted to move on in a different way, to wipe the past clean.

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Andrew shot back. “Our older brother has about as much sense of family tradition as that driftwood over there. He’s ashamed of Pawpaw Vincent and Daddy.”

“That’s not true. Neville stuck by us and you know it. He just didn’t want to spend the rest of his life being looked down on in Belle Rose.” Rae glanced at her hands folded in her lap. “Neither did I.”

“Sure, leavin’ was the easy way out.” Andrew tossed a rock across the water, causing a splash. “There are still older folks around who turn up their noses when I pass them on the street downtown. But I don’t give a damn. This is as much my home as theirs.”

“Andy, Neville and me wanted more of a life than we could have here. I didn’t want to work at the processing plant, be a waitress or end up driving thirty miles to some boring job.” Rae skipped a small shell across the surface of the water.

“So you made your choices. Mine is to stay right here, like Daddy wanted, and pay the taxes. This is our land.” Andrew had a stubborn set to his jaw.

“Remember two years ago, when Daddy got real sick, and I came home?” Rae rested her chin on his shoulder, as she had done when they were children.

“Yeah…”

“We had a long talk. He knew he was about to die.” Rae paused, remembering his drawn face. “Daddy told me he was sorry for nursing his anger all those years and not doing more with his life. He made me promise to somehow find out the truth about Pawpaw Vincent.”

“How in the world you gonna do that? The man’s been gone over fifty years. He’s likely dead by now.” Andrew shook his head.

“Hire a private detective, I guess.”

Andrew sighed. “Let’s face it, he left and so did Estelle Jove. Now, in my experience when it comes to men and women, those kinda coincidences mean one thing.”

“You mean you believe what they say?” Rae was stunned. Andrew had always been as vehement in his defense of Pawpaw Vincent as Lucien.

“No, I’m not sure. Look, a black man with that kinda money would have been noticed back then.”

“That’s what Daddy used to say.” Only in recent months had Rae begun to seriously think about the grandfather she’d never known. All Lucien’s accounts of the old scandal came back to her now. “It makes a lot of sense, too.”

“But I do think he and Estelle went off someplace together. They could easily lose themselves in a big city like Detroit, Chicago. Hell, I don’t know. Maybe they went to one of them Caribbean Islands.”

Rae raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, come on.”

“We’ve got roots out that way. Let me see… was it Barbados or St. Lucia? Daddy said our great-great-great grandmother came over as a servant, first to New Orleans.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, Pawpaw Vincent even had old pictures. Daddy kept them in a metal box up in the attic. Anyway, I think the old man lived out his life with a whole new family someplace far away.”

Rae stared at him wide-eyed. “I never thought of it like that. We could have uncles and cousins somewhere.”

“I’d like to prove Pawpaw Vincent didn’t take that money, too. But that ain’t gonna happen.”

“Maybe not, but I’ve got to try. It’s the one thing I can do for Daddy. But it’s going to take money. A good bit of it.”

Andrew threw another rock. “So you want to sell out.” It was a statement that sounded more like an accusation.

“Don’t put it like that, for goodness sake.” Rae did indeed feel like a sell-out; a traitor to the Dalcours.

“Darcy Jove is in on this,” Andrew spat out, as though it were a nasty taste in his mouth. “You know that?”

Rae did not answer him for a moment. “Yeah, St. Cyr told me. He’s a minor partner. But Simon will own the land.”

“What do you think of him?” Andrew glanced at her.

“He seems... sincere.” Rae tried to identify the feeling his name brought on. “He could have lied about Darcy.”

Simon St. Cyr was the kind of man that definitely made an impression on women, thought Rae, remembering the shape of his lips, smooth like dark taffy. He had a way of crossing his arms when considering something, which accentuated that broad chest. And those big hands… The skin was dry with a few rough spots on the palm. He was a man who worked with his hands. What would it feel like to have him touch her skin?

“Oh no! Don’t tell me you’ve got the hots for Simon St. Cyr!” Andrew slapped his forehead.

Rae punched his arm. “Don’t be crude.”

“Of course, the fact that Toya is his ex-wife and still dyin’ to get him back in her bed don’t have a thing to do with it.” Andrew gave her a pointed look. “Right?”

“They were married? Well, well.” Rae smiled as she gazed at the scenery without seeing it. “Isn’t that fascinating?

Andrew’s brows came together. “Now look here, don’t go startin’ nothin’ with Toya.”

Rae put on an innocent face. “Why, whatever do you mean?”

“I should have kept my big mouth shut about Toya wantin’ him so bad. Now you’re gonna go after the guy just to drive her up the wall.”

She grinned. “Gee, I hadn’t thought of that. That would be a nice bit of lagniappe. But, seriously, Andy, I don’t think selling even most of the land would have bothered Daddy if it meant we could keep the dance hall open and clear Pawpaw Vincent’s name.”

“What if Pawpaw Vincent stole the money?” Andrew asked in a quiet voice.

“A few minutes ago, you said he didn’t do it.”

“No, I said it was strange how he got away with havin’ that kind of money to spread around. They might have been able to hide out all these years.” Andrew tugged out clumps of grass. He would not meet her gaze.

“No, it doesn’t make sense.” Rae stood up. “I’m going to look into finding out the truth. You think about this land deal. I’m meeting St. Cyr again Friday.”

Andrew stood to face her, wearing a fatherly frown of censure. “Raenette Marie Dalcour...”

“Hey, it was his idea, not mine. He wants to give me a better idea of his plans.” Rae lifted a shoulder. “Can I help it if the man also wants to treat me to lunch?”

Andy shook a forefinger under her nose. “Make sure that’s the only treat you get.”

“I’m grown, so I’ll thank you to keep your fat nose outta my business.” Rae brushed his finger aside. “Just think about the deal, okay?”

“Sure. Be careful. Maybe Mama’s right.” Andrew gazed out over the water with a troubled expression. “We oughta let this alone.”

“What are you talking about, Andy?” Rae put a hand on his arm. His tone sent a small twist of anxiety through her.

Andrew opened his mouth as if to speak and then stopped. He put a weak smile on his face. “Nothin’, it’s nothin’. Well, guess I better get goin’. Bring you some of my fish after I clean ‘em.”

“Okay,” Rae called after him. Andrew walked away with his familiar, loping gait.

Rae wondered at Andrew’s strange mood when they were discussing Pawpaw Vincent. The old scandal seemed to reach back across the years and give them all the jitters. For the rest of the day, she thought about her grandfather and Estelle Jove.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Here’s what Kelsey has so far. The first section is on Raenette Dalcour; the rest is on the others.”

Henry Jove was sat at the desk in his combination office and library at home. He opened the brown folder and scanned the first page. “I must say, he’s done quite a lot in a short period.”

“He’s come through for me before.”

Henry flipped through the pages. “So he has. Careful we don’t get too cute for our own good, Marius.”

Marius Jove wore a confident half-smile. “I’m more than careful.”

“See that you are, young man.” Henry eyed him for a few moments and then went back to reading the file.

Marius, at thirty-four, was two years older than Darcy, and he was determined to have things his way. Henry was well aware that the cousins were fiercely competitive. He approved up to a point, since he believed competition between himself and his brothers had made them tough. Henry’s father had encouraged it, and now so did Henry.

“Not much here, except she’s something of a free spirit. Of course, we could use our connections to make things happen for her band.” Marius sat down, across from his uncle. “You know; an offer she can’t refuse.”

“Hmm.” Henry kept reading.

“Maybe offer her the chance to be an opening act with a big artist or a lucrative recording contract.” Marius rubbed his chin in reflection. “Yes, that would be hard for her to let go, based on her file. She’s really into the music thing.”

“That, along with selling the property, just might do it.” Henry tapped a finger on the desk.

Marius looked at his grandfather. “Of course, if she sells, you’ll have most of what you want.” He paused to see Henry’s reaction before going on. “Shouldn’t matter if she stays in Belle Rose.”

Henry returned his gaze with a look of intensity. “Yes, it does. I don’t want any of them taking what’s mine. Lucien was pushing to have Bayou Latte dredged. I won’t have it!”

“I know. It will affect the water level on your property further downstream. You’ve told me that.” Marius shifted in his chair. “Of course, you could take measures–”

“Listen, son, don’t tell me how to handle my business. This family has made a tidy sum from fishing. Dredging will affect the water quality.”

“But the environmental studies say it probably won’t if handled correctly.” Marius drew back, even though he was sitting a few feet from Henry. The older man glared at him.

“No Dalcour is going to get in my way ever again. See to it that she gets out of town.” Henry closed the file. “I don’t care how.”

“What about her brothers?”

Henry waved a hand. “Andrew is harmless. All he cares about is fishing and drinking. The older boy would just as soon never come back here again.” His eyes narrowed. “But Raenette is different. I want her gone.”

“Darcy might not like that.” Marius raised an eyebrow at him. “They were close at one time. Maybe he’d like to renew his acquaintance.”

“What do you mean?” Henry said.

“Yes, Marius. Why don’t you explain.”

Darcy was standing in the door with one hand in his pants pocket. The expensive suit had a casual style to it; his shirt open at the collar. Though his posture indicated a relaxed attitude, there was a glitter of animosity in his light brown eyes.

Marius did not seem in the least intimidated by his formidable cousin. “You two had a bad case of love. And she’s still quite attractive.”

Darcy did not move. “So?”

“So, maybe you figure to catch more flies with honey, as the old saying goes.” Marius examined his maroon Edmonds shoes. “And you do have a way of using your charm to entice.” He put the emphasis on his last words, making them sound decadent.

Fury flashed across Darcy’s face for an instant before he recovered. He replaced it with indifference. “At least you understand the value of charm, though you’ve never quite been able to use it. Of course, there is value in being behind the scenes. Someone has to arrange for coffee and donuts.”

“I helped engineer higher profits. Charm and coasting on the accomplishments of others are your best skills,” Marius said with a sneer.

“That’s enough.” Henry sat back in his chair.

“Forget it, errand boy.” Darcy abandoned his control. “You’ll only get to be third banana, if you’re lucky.”

“You wish. I’ve proven my worth ten times over. What have you done lately, sweet boy?” Marius spoke in a taunting voice.

“Why, you–”

Darcy crossed the room with two long steps and would have slapped Marius had Henry not been faster.

“I said that’s enough!” cried Henry, shoving the younger man back.

“I’m sick of his insults!” Darcy pointed a finger at his cousin.

Henry knocked his hand down. “The Joves have always stood together to benefit this family. Bickering will only bring you down. Remember that!”

“Yes, Darcy. Try to control yourself.” Marius straightened his silk tie. He wore a smirk.

“Wipe that arrogant grin off your face, boy!” Henry snapped at Marius.

“But I–”

Henry cut him off. “Shut up! I spent years creating profitable businesses, despite what Vincent Dalcour did to me.” He wore a bitter expression. “I lost more than money to that man. Your childish fighting makes me sick.”

“You’re right, of course, Grandfather. Sorry, Marius.” Darcy nodded to his cousin, who gazed at him with a look of suspicion.

Henry stared at Marius hard. “I expect whoever takes over as CEO to have guts and brains, and to be able to keep this family together, Marius – not tear it apart by being arrogant and unbending.”

Marius blinked as though his grandfather had hit him with an admonishing blow. “Sorry,” he mumbled to no one in particular. If the apology was meant for Darcy, it was hard to tell since Marius did not look at him.

“Well, on to business,” said Darcy, seemingly undisturbed by his attitude. “Simon seems to at least have Rae listening to his proposal. Of course, she’d be more open to recreational use with careful planning.”

Henry nodded. “Good. I feel confident in Simon’s ability to handle such a delicate negotiation.”

“I could have done just as well. Rae doesn’t even know me.” Marius sounded a touch petulant that he had been vetoed as the one to approach Rae.

“Marius, this required careful handling.” Darcy smiled at him.

“You have a way of irritating people, Marius.” Henry was blunt. “You’re too impatient to have your own way. You can’t skip right into bullying people to get what you want. A good businessman understands hard ball is a last resort.”

“Yessir.” Marius bristled, but said no more.

“And be sure you have leverage to force them into a corner,” Darcy added.

“Exactly,” Henry said, “which we don’t have with Dalcour. She has nothing to lose by holding onto that land. She could sell it later to someone else or directly to Pantheon.”

“But we have the advantage of being able to get tax breaks for them from the parish and state government. I’ve let them know that,” Darcy bragged.

“So? We’d still need to offer that, even if they dealt directly with her.” Henry’s words deflated his grandson’s puffed-up posture. “No, we must rely on Simon to reason with her.”

“And when Simon finds out Pantheon plans to build a waste-treatment plant, not a company making underwear?” Marius glanced from Darcy to Henry.

Henry stood up. “Won’t matter. He’ll have the recreation center.”

“What?” Darcy yelped. “Grandfather, I told Ellis we’d have all that land!”

“Simon will never stand for it. Besides, if he pulls off a sale with the Dalcours, he deserves to be dealt with fairly. Your plan requires diggin’ up my woods north of Glaises Creek. I won’t have it.” Henry stood up.

Darcy faced him. “But Grandfather, be reasonable. Simon won’t have much choice. Who would want to camp so close to a treatment plant with the truck traffic and odor?” he asked.

“You’ll get assurances from Pantheon that it won’t happen,” Henry said. “Simon is a smart young man who has done right by me numerous times. This is my chance to pay him back. I’ve closed on the Aucoin property, which means the plant can be far away from there.”

Darcy’s jaw muscles worked. “The best thing to do is to go on with our original plan. That’s what I sold to Ellis Mouton and the Pantheon people. It’s close to the Grande River junction, which makes barge traffic shorter from the Mississippi.”

“I don’t want dredging done. It will affect our property.” Henry patted his pockets and drew out his car keys. “Now I’ve got a meeting.”

“Grandfather, be reasonable.” Darcy had finally lost patience. “I’ve had surveys done and consulted with the Corps of Engineers–”

Henry drew himself up to his full height and scowled at him. “The subject is closed, boy. We’ll do things my way until I retire.”

“But Ellis–”

“I don’t give a damn what you told Ellis Mouton. No Mouton is going to push me into a deal I don’t want.” Henry stabbed a finger in the air. “You kissing his butt?”

“Of course not!” Darcy blurted out in a shocked voice. When Marius cleared his throat loudly, he shot him a threatening glance.

“Good. You’ve got no business making promises to Mouton. I don’t care what he dangles in front of you.” Henry marched out without saying goodbye.

“Grandfather knows you very well,” said Marius, wearing a sly grin.

“And you well enough to know you’re incompetent to run Jove Enterprises,” Darcy snapped.

Marius lost the grin. “He hasn’t made that decision yet.”

Darcy shrugged. “Who did he have handle Pantheon?”

“You’re too cocky for your own good. He also said Simon has done a lot for him.” Marius looked smug as his insinuation hit home. “Oh yes, it could be Simon.”

“No, Grandfather wants a Jove to run the business.” Darcy did not seem confident of his argument.

“You sure of that?” Marius goaded.

Darcy thought for a while and dismissed the notion. “Your paranoid delusions are getting the best of you. Grandfather will reward Simon, but not that way. If you’re really nice to me, I just might let you keep your job.”

“Don’t start planning on all the changes you’ll make as the new boss just yet,” Marius snarled. He balled up his fists.

“Goodbye, Marius. By the way, we’re low on coffee down at the office.” Darcy strolled out with a chuckle.

“You’ll get yours, cuz,” Marius mumbled. “I’ll see to it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Marcelle wiped her mouth and sighed. “It’s so nice to eat somebody else’s cooking for a change. I don’t get out much, you know.”

“Gee, I never would have guessed.” Rae laughed, remembering the way Marcelle had arranged for her mother-in-law to care for the baby in record time.

“It’s a blessing to have two grandmothers, both of ‘em housewives, living within fifteen miles.”

Rae and Marcelle were sat in Nadine’s, a small po-boy shop on the highway just of town. Marcelle was taking her time over a ham and cheese sandwich while Rae ate one containing fried oyster.

“Hmm, good. I missed Louisiana home cooking more than I realized.” Rae had her eyes closed. She chewed the oyster with Louisiana hot sauce slowly, relishing it.

“Girl, you were lucky to be traveling all over, going to Sweden and everything. I’d give up a little fresh seafood for a while just for that.”

“It was great. You know, my band is better known in Sweden and Great Britain than in the United States. Those folks go crazy for blues. Zydeco, too.” Rae thought of the enthusiastic crowds shouting for more into the early morning hours. “I did love that part.”

Marcelle finished the last piece of her po-boy. “You sure you want to give that up? Hey, you said your CD is selling pretty good?”

“Yeah, well.” Rae took a deep swallow of strawberry soda. “I don’t expect we’ll be superstars, not playing Zydeco or blues. But we made a living at it. I even managed to put away some money.”

“Hey, you’re spoilin’ my image of the party-hard blues woman livin’ for today. Come on now, cher, I was havin’ fun livin’ vicariously.” Marcelle grinned at her impishly.

“Oh, I partied. For a long time I was young and stupid. I’d have a lot more money if I hadn’t been.”

Rae thought of the first three years after leaving home when she concentrated on forgetting Belle Rose and Darcy. She’d come close to losing herself in drugs. A succession of men did little to ease the loneliness.

“Rae, about Darcy...” Marcelle glanced around to make sure no one was sitting close by. “Are you–”

“Over him? Oh yeah!” Rae gazed out of the window at the passing vehicles. “It took me a while to figure out why he got to me.”

“And..?”

“He treated me special. Darcy had a way of making me feel like I was the center of his universe. I needed to feel that way, Marcelle.” Rae thought of the ache of being treated as an outcast during her childhood.

“I know. But you hid it well.”

Rae reached out and squeezed Marcelle’s hand. “You stuck by me when the other kids were treating me like dirt, even in high school. You’re the best, girlfriend.” Her voice broke. Outside her family, Marcelle had been one of the few people she could count on to stand with her.

Marcelle squeezed her hand back. “So are you. And I’m glad you didn’t let that slimy night crawler ruin your life.”

“Teenage intensity! I thought I’d die when he cut me off cold.” Rae shook her head slowly. “I wanted to be loved so badly. The oily, charming surface seemed like genuine caring.”

“Little weasel.” Marcelle took a sip of her soft drink. “You know what? He’s been sorry ever since. Had the nerve to tell me you were the most exciting woman he’d ever been with.”

“Now that’s pitiful,” Rae said with a sharp laugh. “No wonder he’s got so many ex-wives.” She sighed. “Lord, I’m glad adolescence is behind me. Isn’t it something how it takes all your twenties to get over it though?”

“Who’s over it? I still think my nose is too big. And Carmela Tate is not forgiven,” Marcelle said.

Rae looked at her in astonishment. “Oh please, girl. We were fifteen. So Carmela told everyone your bra size – so what?”

“And she waved my little double A cup she’d sneaked from my gym locker.” Marcelle looked just as angry now.

“Everyone knew Carmela was a jealous big mouth. I warned you not to tell her your business. But you wouldn’t listen.”

“She’s still like that. I saw her at mass the other day. Had the nerve to say Freddie Jr. made an eighty-nine on a quiz while her Darvin made a ninety-four. Pooh-ya!”

“Get over it, Marcelle.” Rae laughed out loud. “What do you care what she says? Gee, small-town life.”

“That’s right, Rae. Can you take it after being in big cities all this time?” Marcelle studied her.

“I’ve thought about that.” Rae looked around at the modest diner. “But I’m not that rebel trying desperately to make everybody sit up and take notice.”

“Hey, lots of our old classmates have been askin’ about you. Now that you’re a recording star up for a Grammy, they wanna be your pal,” Marcelle said.

“I’m not up for a Grammy. Where in the world did they... Marcelle! You didn’t?” Rae’s mouth hung open.

“Well, I might have mentioned something to Carmela. You should have seen her face.” Marcelle cackled.

“Shame on you, telling tales in church.”

“We were on the parking lot. Besides, I said you might be up for a Grammy.” Marcelle put her hands on her hips. “Well, you’ve got as much chance as any other musician.”

Rae could not refute her logic. “You’re priceless.”

They both laughed until the tears flowed. After several minutes they sat still, feeling weak, drinking their soda refills.

“Seriously, Rae, being back home means you’ll run into Toya and Darcy on a regular basis.”

“I’ve all ready seen Toya.” Rae felt a tightening in her stomach.

“And..?”

Rae shrugged. “She said hello, I said hello, and that was about it.”

“For now. You keep meeting with her ex and the claws will come out.” Marcelle nodded with vigor.

“What do you think of Simon St. Cyr?” Rae tried to make the question sound casual. She remembered the warm, tangy smell of his cologne. It pulled her to him, making it hard to keep her mind on his talk of wetlands and tourism.

“The man is fine. He’s got a body that won’t quit. Girl, that chest, those arms, thighs like steel and a cute–”

Rae cut her off, “Marcelle, you’re a married woman.”

She gave a sassy wink. “I’m married, not dead. I can enjoy the view.”

“I meant what kind of person is he? A great body and a handsome face isn’t everything.”

“So you agree he’s super fine, eh?” Marcelle leaned forward to peer into Rae’s eyes.

“He looks okay. But I’m more interested in how to deal with him. Can he be trusted?” Rae fiddled with the straw in her glass without looking at Marcelle.

“You think he’s hot, admit it!” Marcelle poked her with a finger.

“Will you grow up? This isn’t junior high, for goodness sakes.”

“Rae, don’t try to fool me.”

“I ask you a simple question and you gotta get all into this stuff,” Rae huffed.

“Well, that answered my question. And I hear he gave you the look, too.” Marcelle wiggled her eyebrows. “Miss Jarreau says that day he came up to you downtown he was really smiling and Toya was furious. She said–”

“Give me a break! I only just met the man. So he seems like a nice person.” Rae thought of the handsome profile. A finger of heat traced a line up her back. “With a great smile and a sexy voice. So what?” She stared out the window toward town as though trying to see him.

“Beep-beep-beep, danger ahead,” Marcelle said in a sing-song voice. “You gonna have a serious Jones for that man if you don’t watch yourself.”

“Get real. Simon St. Cyr is not going to use any fake charm on me. Bet he’s got as much moral fiber as Darcy. The St. Cyrs and Joves hung together, dumping on my family.” Rae tried to conjure up the old bitter feelings to counteract her reaction to the sensuous man.

“The Joves more than the St. Cyrs. Simon wasn’t even part of that since he was older than us and went to a prep school in New Orleans.” Marcelle eyed her. “And he’s nothing like Darcy, or most of the young men around here, except for my Freddie, of course.”

“Oh really?” Rae affected a nonchalant attitude. She leaned back in her chair in a casual pose.

“He’s got a reputation for being honest in business.” Marcelle’s lips twitched with mirth at the studied indifference that Rae tried to convey. “As for women, the talk is he’s a real gentleman.”

Rae considered this statement. In Louisiana, being called a real gentleman meant he treated women with respect, without lying or sleeping around. Very interesting. So Simon St. Cyr was an upstanding citizen, as far as anyone knew. That did not mean she should trust him.

She lifted her chin. “All the same, I’m going to check out his proposal seven different ways from Sunday, as the old folks say. He’s not going to fool me with superficial charm.”

“Right. Judging from the look on your face when his name came up, I’d say you don’t think his charm is all that phony.” Marcelle leaned forward and tapped her friend’s arm.

“It’s business.”

Rae thought of her promise to Lucien. It was all so complicated. To find out what happened to Pawpaw Vincent, she needed money. Getting the dance hall in the shape she wanted would take a sizeable amount of cash. But what would Lucien really think of selling even a small portion of their land to a St. Cyr, much less almost two-thirds? Coming home has opened up old wounds and a new can of worms. Rae wondered how she could stay true to herself and her father.

“Your daddy would understand if you can’t handle all this on your own, Rae.” Marcelle seemed to read her thoughts as usual.

“There’s got to be another way. I can’t let St. Cyr and Darcy think they’re my only chance.” Rae tapped out a beat on the table top.

“If I could, I’d float you a loan. Of course, pennies won’t help.” Marcelle chuckled.

“That’s it!” Rae hugged Marcelle. “Sugar, why didn’t you slap some sense into my head before now?”

Marcelle wore a baffled expression. “What?”

“I’ll apply for a loan from the bank. Of course, I’ll need a business plan. Only part of the property could be used as collateral.” Rae looked pleased with herself.

Marcelle looked doubtful. “If you say so, but–”

“Then I can let Simon St. Cyr know he’s not the only game in town.”

“Henry Jove sits on First Federal’s board of directors. You think he’s going to let you get a loan?” Marcelle shook her head.

“Damn, it was nice while it lasted.” Rae slumped back in her chair. She sat forward again with a determined expression. “If push comes to shove, I’ll put it on my MasterCard.”

“Sure you will,” Marcelle said with a wave of her hand. Her eyes went wide at the look on Rae’s face. “You’re not jokin’?”

“Nope! I’ll listen to Simon St. Cyr. But he won’t pull the wool over my eyes with his smiling face.” Rae wore a smug smile.

“You sure are hot to deny Simon St. Cyr has had an effect on you.” Marcelle gazed at her. “Doesn’t sound like just business to me.”

“Well it is,” Rae said. She lifted a shoulder in a careless gesture. “If I let him get close, it would only be to drive Toya crazy, which doesn’t seem like a bad thing at all the more I think of it.”

“Just be careful. You might start off pretending and find the only person you’ve trapped is yourself,” Marcelle replied.

“Hey, I’ve got it under control.”

Rae felt a tickle of uneasiness despite her words. The smell and feel of Simon standing close rushed back with a vengeance. Why did he have to look at her with those soulful brown eyes? Why did he have to look so... delectable? She found herself beginning to speculate how his arms would feel around her. Stop that! Simon St. Cyr is just another man. Period.

Rae steeled herself against anymore stupid fantasies about a man who could very well be in a conspiracy to trick her. Now all she had to do was figure out a way to keep him out of her head for good.