One Year Ago
“Slow yourself down,” Tucker Delacroix said to her brother, Jim Bob. “You’re going to snap that line, and if you do, I’m kicking your ass.”
“You always threaten that, Augusta,” Jim Bob said, his voice strained.
He was only ten minutes into his battle with the bluefin tuna he’d hooked, and the fish had taken plenty of line as it went deep. It was their first fish of the day as they made their way out into the Gulf of Mexico to inspect their newest natural gas platform. The Stella III, named after their mother, was their fifth natural gas well, and it had just become operational ten miles out along the Louisiana–Texas border, which made for a good excuse to take a fishing trip in the middle of the week.
“That’s because your impatience is legendary. When was the last time you licked your way to the center of a Tootsie Pop?”
“My sucking habits are none of your business, and don’t I always prove you wrong?” Jim Bob chewed on the cigar that never seemed to fall out of his mouth, even when he was talking, and laughed. He was twenty years older than Tucker, but that hadn’t prevented the close bond they shared. He’d enjoyed his status as an only child until their mother had miscalculated her menopausal symptoms. From the day she was born, Jim Bob had enjoyed his big brother job of spoiling her and never left her behind if he could help it.
The fighter chair on the Pole Dancer Addict creaked as Jim Bob started reeling in in earnest, and Tucker moved them forward slowly to help tire the fish. Their jointly owned Azimut 72 flybridge yacht was named for what their grandfather had called their impressive collection of fishing rods. The seventy-two-foot power fishing vessel had been customized to their needs and they enjoyed taking it out together.
“Damn.” Jim Bob grunted. “This is a big fucker.”
“Get to it, old man.” Tucker used the teasing nickname even though he was only fifty-five. “And try not to have a heart attack, will you? I’d never get you to the hospital in time if I have to haul that fish in by myself.”
“Fuck, don’t make me laugh.”
Fishing and business were two things their father had taught them, but Bart only joined them on occasion now, and he’d completely retired from the business. It’d been her and Jim Bob who’d taken the Delacroix Oil and Gas Company way past where their father and grandfather had started it. They were now equal partners in a company with twenty-eight working rigs in the Gulf, one in deep water, and five natural gas wells. The best part of the job was sharing it with Jim Bob and getting to work and play with him every day. Tucker wouldn’t trade it for the world.
“Let me show you how it’s done.” Jim Bob brought the rod up toward his chest and reeled it in quickly before letting it come forward again.
It took two hours and both of them taking turns to get the almost three hundred pound fish on the deck. Their two permanent crew members threw it into the cooler built into the stern and iced it down. Once they reached the rig, the cooking staff would take care of cleaning the monster and preparing it for lunch.
“Go take a shower, and I’ll get us underway,” she said, heading back to the flybridge. There were two staterooms below equal in size, and two smaller rooms for the crew. The vessel also had two guest rooms they used when they were entertaining business associates and friends, but it was days like today with just the two of them that Tucker really enjoyed.
“Thanks, since I’m sweating like a son of a bitch even though it’s colder than a witch’s tit out here.” Jim Bob downed a bottle of water. “I’ll relieve you when I’m done.”
“Remind me never to date a witch, and go shower.” She made him laugh as she clipped the tip off a Cohiba, then opened up the two fourteen-hundred-horsepower engines and headed southwest.
Her satellite phone rang as she sat to light the cigar, and she smiled when she saw her assistant’s number. Syd White was a gorgeous curvy brunette with green eyes Tucker had hired after finishing a talk with the business school association at LSU. The college senior had sold herself aggressively but had refused to sleep with Tucker after a lot of flirting over dinner.
That’s what had cinched it for her. Tucker wasn’t a fan of office romances, especially since she wasn’t planning to settle down with anyone, ever. Marriage and commitment hadn’t worked out for the majority of the people she knew, so she avoided both like unseasoned crawfish served with lukewarm beer.
“The place isn’t on fire, is it?” She glanced at her watch, wondering what was so urgent at ten in the morning. Urgent things were the only reason Syd would ever bother her while she was on the water. It had been a lesson Tucker’s old secretary had taught Syd before she retired at seventy-nine.
“Maybe I missed you terribly and wanted to hear your voice,” Syd said in the teasing but somewhat sarcastic tone she’d perfected.
“That could be true, but I happen to know you leave at lunch when I’m not there, so let’s hear it.”
“Whoever told you that is lying,” Syd said, followed by a tapping that sounded like her fingernail against the receiver. “I leave at two, and it’s usually to get something for you, so don’t give me any shit about my hours.”
“Let’s be honest and admit the truth. We both know I work for you, and I do whatever I can not to piss off the boss.”
“Jefferson came by with a large package and told me to call and tell you he’s finished. He wanted me to stress that to make his life easier, you both need to make an appointment to get all this squared away before either of you drops dead.” Tucker heard a door open and close, then nothing but quiet. “Whatever it is, I’m putting it in the safe in your office.”
“He’s been after us to redo our wills and iron some stuff out, so be nice to me or I’ll cut you right out of the lifetime opportunity to fish tuna I’m leaving you.”
“Ha,” Syd said, making Tucker pull the phone away from her ear it was so loud. “I want cash or nothing, but do me a favor and don’t die anytime soon. It would take me forever to train someone new.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll do my best.” The rig was in sight, and there was a supply boat moored to one of the structure’s legs, making her bleed off speed. “Take my Amex card and treat yourself to a massage or something that won’t bankrupt us. It’ll loosen you up for the weekend.”
“You’re the best, Tucker.” Syd made kissing noises into the phone. “At least, that’s what Sage Beniot told me.” Syd’s laugh was deep and sexy. “Tell me, does she taste better with a name like Sage?”
“Zip it before I have no choice but to send you to sexual harassment sensitivity classes.” She laughed at Syd’s ability to come up with teasing remarks usually aimed at her active social life. The latest woman in her life, Sage, had been her date to the trade show she’d attended in October, and she wasn’t overly clingy so she was still around. Occasionally.
“I’ll go when Jim Bob stops chasing me around my desk.”
“I could probably get a group rate on you two.” The crew of the supply boat waved as they pulled away, so she idled until they were clear. “Enjoy your massage, darlin’, and I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Don’t forget, you’re expected at the Mardi Gras thing tomorrow. I had your tux cleaned, and it’ll be in your closet.”
“You’re too good to me, Syd.”
“I am, but you deserve it for not chasing me around the desk.”
“I’ll remember that, but I’ve got to go before I crash the expensive boat into the even more expensive rig.”
“Sage’s father would be thrilled if you did either. He’d love the repair work.”
“I’m sure he would, but Jim Bob would never let me live it down.” She hung up and skillfully tied up after the crew put the bumpers in place. “Send the winch down, fellas.”
“What’s on the menu?” one of the guys yelled down.
“Tuna, which means light the pit without blowing us to hell.” She went down for a quick shower and changed into jeans and a sweater. Louisiana didn’t really have much cold weather, but the wind on the water made it chilly in November.
Jim Bob was waiting when she came out, and he was looking at his phone like something was wrong. “Everything okay?” she asked, sliding her watch onto her wrist.
“Family stuff.” He put the phone in his pocket.
Those two words were code for problems, and she hated to see the fun bleed out of him. As successful as Jim Bob was in business, he was equally unsuccessful at home. His obvious misery ate away at Tucker, but she really couldn’t do anything about it. Her brother was the only one who could make the kind of changes that would solve all those problems, but he’d hung in there. For what, she wasn’t sure.
“Forget about that shit for now, and let’s go enjoy your fish.”
He nodded and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Are you on my side, Tucker?”
She pulled him in for a hug. “No matter what or against who, I’ve got your back, brother—never worry about that.”
* * *
Willow Vernon stood at the corner of Poydras and St. Charles in the Central Business District in New Orleans, waiting for the light to change. She’d finally finished the specs for the new pipeline they were setting up on the coast in Port Fourchon, and she was celebrating with her sister, Monique. They worked in buildings catty-corner to each other, only Monique was a paralegal for a law firm that specialized in oil field contracts and leases, and Willow worked for one of the majors, Suntrust Oil, as an engineer.
“Maybe we’ll have two things to celebrate since she said she had big news.” Willow spoke to herself softly as she made her way across to the InterContinental Hotel. Monique was already seated, and from first glance, Willow could tell something was off.
“Hey.” She leaned down and kissed Monique’s cheek and hugged her from behind. “Have you been waiting long?”
“I just beat you, but I took the day off. You could’ve taken your time.”
The new restaurant was known for oysters, but Monique had ordered a huge plate of french fries that the waiter delivered as Willow took her coat off and sat down. “Now I know there’s something wrong. You never do carbs unless it’s something really bad.”
She and her sister had inherited their mother’s petite frame, blondish-red hair, green eyes, and curves. The whole package made them noticeable, but the short curse—as they called their height—meant they’d both spent a lifetime dieting to prevent their curves from smoothing out into a more ball-like appearance. It was their joke that french fries were of the devil’s making and could only be enjoyed sparingly. That these had butter and Parmesan cheese on them meant there was something like an IRS audit or a colonoscopy in Monique’s future.
“I don’t know if I’d describe it as really wrong—it’s more of a shock than anything else.” Monique put two fries in her mouth and smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes.
“You aren’t wanted by the police, are you?” She took half the plate if only to save Monique the guilt of devouring two pounds of potatoes by herself. “If you are, start praying they serve these in prison. They’re delicious.”
“Don’t get upset, okay?” Monique put another fry in her mouth as if for courage.
“In my experience, no good conversation ever started with that phrase.” Willow exhaled, and all the great feelings of finishing her first really big project whooshed out of her with a lungful of air.
“I’m pregnant,” Monique said in a rush, like she was ripping a Band-Aid off a bad wound.
“You’re…pregnant?” she asked slowly before her coughing fit started from swallowing wrong. It took a few minutes for her wheezing to stop, and she stared at Monique through teary eyes. “Tell me how that’s possible before I embarrass myself by vomiting cheesy fries on this table.”
“You graduated top in your class. I hope you learned a little anatomy as well as all that math.”
The joke made her laugh, and she moved to sit by her sister. “We talk almost every day, and not once have I heard about a date, much less a guy you’ve seen often enough to have gotten pregnant. If it was a one-night stand, I’ll still love you, but it’ll shock the hell out of me.”
“I’m not a nun, thank you very much. And everyone is entitled to a few secrets.”
“I love you, but seriously?” She moved closer, not wanting to be overheard. “This isn’t the time for secrets. Unless… Oh. My. God.” She said the words slowly and with plenty of emphasis.
“What?” Monique covered her hand and squeezed her fingers.
“Please tell me it’s not Jefferson’s.”
“My boss Jefferson?” Monique laughed and slapped her arm. “His wife would skin him if he stepped one foot out of her control. Not to mention I’d be in fear for my life. That woman is downright scary.”
“Um, let’s focus.” She tapped her finger against Monique’s forehead. “You’re going to have to tell me who, then, because I’m not playing the guessing game.”
“Would you hate me if I don’t tell you right away?” Monique shook her head and pressed her fingers against Willow’s mouth. “I need to wrap my head around this, so I need some time to process it before I can really talk about it.”
“Monique, I love you, but have you really thought this through? You know what the doctor said.”
“I’ve had my numbers under control for months, and we shouldn’t concentrate on that right now. This is happy news.” It sounded as if Monique was trying to convince herself as well as Willow.
She smiled and nodded, hoping she looked calmer than she felt. “It is, sweetie, but it’s not worth the risk.”
“I know all the risk factors, and that’s all I’ve thought about since I heard the news.” Monique shook her head. “It’s something I’ve always wanted, and I’m obviously capable of, but Dr. Smith’s voice keeps running through my head like some kind of broken record. It’s damn annoying.”
“Kate only has your best interest at heart. Are you thinking of ending the pregnancy?” she asked gently.
Monique was careful and took great care of herself, but she’d been a diabetic since she’d been five, and it was a bear trying to keep her insulin levels consistent. Pregnancy was something the doctor had warned her not to try since it’d put way too much strain on her kidneys and heart. In a way, Monique had been her mother from an early age since their own mother had been ill for so long, but Willow knew having a baby was something her sister wanted to experience.
“What? No.” Monique grabbed more fries. “I’m thinking about how I didn’t plan this, and how I’m going to work it all out. Ending the pregnancy is off the table, so drop it.”
“I want to go to the doctor with you. A baby is happy news, but not if it comes at the expense of your life.” Monique was the only family she had left, except for a couple of aunts on her father’s side they never saw. The thought of losing her made her ill.
“It’s going to be fine, so just be happy for me.”
“Oh, sweetie, I am. No matter what, I’m going to take care of you, and I’ll be thrilled to be an aunt.” She stood and hugged her sister again. “I love you, and I’ll always be here for you, but don’t expect me to shirk my responsibilities when it comes to taking care of you.”
“I know that, but I can’t help but be happy.”
“Then I’m happy for you.”