Bayou Baby

by Lexi Blake

  “That doesn’t seem fair,” Cal replied. “That house has been in their family for a hundred and fifty years. They weren’t always middle class. Mom forgets that from time to time.”

  “Aunt Celeste wasn’t always rich. She forgets that, too.” His aunt could be kind to him, but he didn’t like how she talked about Seraphina’s family. It wasn’t his place to correct her, though, since he barely knew the woman.

  “Yes, she likes to forget that entirely.” Cal nodded his way. “She doesn’t ever mention that when she met our dad, she was a stewardess.”

  “Flight attendant,” Angie corrected. “They’re called flight attendants these days.”

  “Well, in those days she was a stewardess and she had an affair with a businessman who married her when she got pregnant with me, so she was merely luckier than Sera,” Cal pointed out. “Don’t tell her I know that, by the way. She always tries to tell me I was a preemie. Grandmother Beaumont slipped that story in whenever she wanted to let me know I was half poor. Like that came in my DNA or something. You know, now that I think about it, Sera’s the lucky one since she’s the new owner of Guidry Place, all the land, and according to whoever Josette was talking to this morning, a crate of Confederate gold.”

  Angie rolled her eyes. “You listened to the rumor mill? You know by the time it gets to anyone willing to talk to that mean girl that it’s likely all crap.”

  He shrugged slightly. “Yeah, there was also something about a bunch of dead bodies and having to hide Irene’s serial killer past in order to take possession of the house, but I just figured it had already gone through Gene.”

  Papillon was an odd place. “So Sera’s inheriting a mansion?”

  “It’s a mansion in name only,” Angie explained. “It was a mansion back at the turn of the twentieth century. Sometime in the fifties, most of the family moved into town and bought the house Delphine and Sera still live in. They founded the restaurant, but Irene wasn’t interested in it so she took care of the ancestral home. When the grandparents passed, they left Sera’s side of the family the restaurant and Irene got the old property. Everyone assumed she would sell it off at some point or leave it to charity. I’m surprised she bequeathed it all to Seraphina.”

  “Sera’s the only one who ever gave that old woman a moment of her time,” Cal replied. “I’m not all that surprised.”

  “I wonder if that’s why she did it.” Angie pushed her chair back. “I’ve got to go change shoes. I’m not going to be the one to tell Mother that Seraphina is now our neighbor. She can find that out on her own. I hope it’s merely a rumor because if it’s not, Sera’s inherited more than a house that will likely fall apart around her. She put herself in between my mom and something she wants, and that never goes well. See y’all after church, and it’s not fair that I have to go and you don’t.”

  “I’m not the one getting married.” Cal yawned and sat back. “I don’t have to impress the priest. Harry here isn’t even Catholic. He’s the luckiest one of all. He can watch all the football he wants every Sunday.”

  “Hopefully there will be football in Hell,” Angie said with a wink. “Bye, boys.”

  Harry still had some questions. “Why does Aunt Celeste hate Seraphina? You said she was friends with Wes. I get she didn’t want them to date, but according to you, they didn’t.”

  “Nah, Sera wasn’t interested in him that way. My sainted brother wasn’t her type,” Cal said. “She was more into bad boys, if you know what I mean. Sera got around in high school. Never could convince Wes that it wasn’t going to happen.”

  “And your mom hates her because she didn’t want Wes?”

  “Nah. She hates Seraphina because she blames her for Wes losing his damn mind and going into the Army.”

  Harry stared at him. He got that Wes hadn’t needed the Army the way he had, but he still didn’t think joining up achieved a level of crazy.

  Cal sighed. “I didn’t mean it that way. It would have been great if serving his country was truly what Wes was doing, but it wasn’t. He was running away.”

  “From what?” As far as Harry could tell, Wes’s life should have been very good.

  A grim expression crossed his cousin’s face, a serious look he rarely saw there. “Wes was in his last year of college. Sera was working but for some reason she went up to Baton Rouge and they had a big fight. I don’t know exactly what happened. I think Wes probably gave her some dumbass ultimatum. I told him he should be patient and eventually she would give in and sleep with him. I mean, he couldn’t actually marry her, but he could have a good time. Like I said, I don’t know what happened, but he came home and told Mom and Dad he’d dropped out and was going into the Army. He said he would prove to Seraphina that he could be man enough for her.”

  Harry sighed. “Damn. That explains it. He gives up his degree, and all over a woman. Why would she do that? Why tell him to go into the Army?”

  “Who knows?” Cal shrugged like it no longer mattered, the sad look in his eyes turning back to the devil-may-care expression he wore like a mask. “Maybe she wanted to get rid of him. Wes could be annoying. Sera was one of the cool kids in high school. By that time Wes was in a private school. He would have been back in Papillon after he graduated. Maybe she didn’t want the nerd to ruin her social life. None of it made sense to me, but Mom blames Sera for Wes’s death, and she will not like Sera setting up house in our backyard no matter how big that yard is. She’ll put the pressure on if what I heard is true. Though if Sera really has all that gold, she might make it a fight. Either way, it’ll be interesting.”

  He didn’t like to think about the woman with the high-voltage smile convincing his cousin to drop out of college, but he’d known women who lived to manipulate. Men, too. They weren’t happy unless they were in control, and sometimes they drew satisfaction from ruining lives.

  It didn’t make sense, but it didn’t have to because he was going to stay away from Seraphina. He wasn’t going to cause a rift in his family over a woman he’d barely met. “Well, I’m going to work on a couple of things. I’ll be out in the shop.”

  “I’ll be in the media room. The Saints are playing. Come on up if you want to hang,” Cal offered. “And I was serious about tonight. We’re going to this bar outside of town. You’ll like it.”

  He probably wouldn’t, but at least he would know his cousin would get home all right. He pushed his chair back and started to pick up his plate. The maid was at his side before he could take a step. She took the plate out of his hand and swept away the mug.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  She didn’t look back.

  It was a strange, strange world. He was happy when he and Shep got out to the shop and back to work.

  * * *

  ***

  Celeste stepped out of the dining room and forced herself to take a deep breath. She wasn’t going to get emotional. When had it gotten hard to shove her feelings down? She’d had years to perfect the fine art of swallowing down every bit of rage, sucking up all her sorrow, and curbing her joy.

  It might be Harry causing it all. Seeing him again, having him in her life, reminded her of who she’d been before she’d got it in her head that she could be someone else, someone more.

  “Oh, she talks about him but it’s usually to let me know it would have been better if I’d died instead of Wes.”

  The words floated out of the dining room, causing Celeste to stop in her tracks. Cal. Cal was talking.

  “That’s not true.” Her daughter’s voice was quieter.

  “Really?” Celeste could practically see the expression on Cal’s face. He would be staring at his sister with that arrogant look he’d inherited from his father. “And when she said, You know I wish Wes was here instead of you—what do you think that was a metaphor for?”

  She forced back the need to walk into the dining room and apologize. One
foot in front of the other. The maid walked by and Celeste nodded as though she hadn’t just heard her son talk about how terrible she was.

  She’d stopped drinking the day after that terrible night. Oh, she would have a sip or two of wine, but she wouldn’t indulge. Indulgence had led to her mask slipping and her rage spilling out and striking her children. Cal had every right to be angry with her.

  She hadn’t mentioned it since that stiff apology, but her words were obviously still there and she had no idea how to address them except to give him some space. She wouldn’t say a thing about him taking Harry out tonight. Honestly, she felt better with Harry there, his steady hand keeping Cal in check.

  She glanced in the mirror. The face staring back was practically perfect, but that thought gave her no comfort. It was a mask.

  Shouldn’t a person’s face change over time? Not that she’d allowed it. The first time her husband had mentioned the lines around her eyes, she’d gone to the plastic surgeon and had them taken care of. Every line or wrinkle was dealt with ruthlessly because perfection was the only proper outcome.

  No one should be able to see her age, her grief, her happiness.

  Her lipstick had faded. It wasn’t the vibrant red she always wore. Her signature.

  It didn’t look so bad. Her lips were on the thin side, but they were rather nice. It would be a long walk to fix it and her feet hurt.

  Her mother-in-law wasn’t around to enforce the codes anymore. That was what she called her mother-in-law’s rigid rules of behavior. The codes. Always look perfect. Never smile too brightly. Clothing should be understated but expensive. A lady never raised her voice or complained.

  Why was she still following those rules? And why the hell couldn’t Angie wear her cute shoes to church? Everyone else did. Did God truly care that her daughter was showing some toe cleavage?

  But she’d followed them for so long, she wasn’t sure what she would do without them. Those rules had become a road map of sorts, a way to live without risking too much.

  Those rules hadn’t saved Wes.

  She took a deep breath. The well of her grief seemed never ending, a dark pool that she couldn’t seem to climb out of.

  “Mom?” Angie stood in the hallway.

  She shook her head. How long had she been standing here staring at herself in the mirror? “Yes?”

  “Are you all right? I’m going to change my shoes and then we can go. Unless you’ve changed your mind. No one will care that we miss a single Sunday.”

  Oh, but it was only weeks before Angie’s wedding and their absence would absolutely be noted. There would be gossip, and avoiding gossip was the foremost of the codes. She smoothed out her dress and reached for her handbag. It was a sedate Louis Vuitton that went with practically anything. A show of her wealth. “Of course we should go. We need to talk to the priest about changing the candles in the sanctuary before the big day. He’s being unreasonable.”

  “I think he’s trying to follow church rules,” Angie replied.

  Celeste waved that off. Some rules were made to be broken, especially when an incredibly large check was involved. Money might not be able to purchase happiness, but it could buy candles in the proper color scheme. “It will all work out. I assure you. But, Angie, those shoes are fine for church.”

  Her daughter’s eyes went wide. “What?”

  It was time to find some compromise with her children. Maybe if she’d . . . No. She wasn’t going there. She was focusing on the future and that meant her living children. She strode to where her daughter stood, looking at her like she’d grown two heads. “I said the shoes are fine. Let’s go.”

  Angie stared for a moment more before a slow smile crossed her face. “All right, then.”

  It was good to know she could shock her children in good ways from time to time.

  And it was good to bend the rules a bit. She took a deep breath as they walked into the morning air. This afternoon she would pay a call on Quaid Havery and inquire about whatever crazy feline organization old Irene had left her house to. Then she would see about finally getting the Guidrys out of her life.

  It would be a good day.

  chapter three

  “Okay. I haven’t been out here in a long time. Wow.” Sylvie Martine stood in front of her car, her heels sinking slightly into the ground since Irene had never bothered to have the drive paved. It was still the same dirt and gravel drive that had been there since Sera’s great-grandpa’s days. Hallie’s car was parked beside Sylvie’s flashy sedan.

  Sera had called Sylvie for a lift because her car needed a new battery and she couldn’t afford one. Again.

  Hallie had come straight from mass to support her, though she had texted that she’d already done that by praying the house was still standing when she got there.

  “Are you sure this is okay?” Hallie stared up at the house, a look of abject horror in her eyes. “I mean should we go in there? Or should we have hard hats? Maybe I should send Johnny in first. Or we could call Zep. He doesn’t have a child to raise.”

  Though he was a pretty good uncle since he was hanging out with Luc this afternoon so she could come and survey the house she’d so recently inherited.

  It wasn’t that bad. Sera stood beside her two best friends as the afternoon light illuminated the task in front of her and told herself everything was going to be all right. After all, her aunt had lived here for years and nothing had fallen down around her. Mostly. “I’m pretty sure it’s solid. My great-great-grandfather built it to survive hurricanes. It’s still standing so I think it’s fine. Most of the problems are cosmetic.”

  At least she hoped they were. Fifty thousand dollars sounded like a lot of money, but repairs and upgrades were expensive. She might need to take out a loan to get this place into real shape. Could she even get a loan?

  Sylvie shook her head. “It’s gone downhill since I was out here last.” She sighed. “It’s been years and years. I feel bad. I should have come out here and seen Irene. I got busy.”

  Sylvie was particularly busy because for the last several years she’d served as the mayor of Papillon. Like many of Sera’s friends, Sylvie left the small town they’d grown up in for college. She’d gotten a degree in public administration. She’d been planning on going to DC, but when the mayor of thirty years had died suddenly, she’d come home to take care of her town. Her chock-full of crazy town. How Sylvie managed to get through a single town hall, Sera had no idea.

  “She would have met you with a shotgun.” Sera didn’t want her friend to feel guilty. Her aunt had been isolated in her last years. “She knew you took over the mayor’s office. She pretty much threatened anyone from the government. You know how she liked to think everyone was out to take her land and force her into medical experiments.”

  Sylvie chuckled. “That sounds like her. Still, I played out here, too, back when she didn’t mind having ragamuffin kids running all over the place.”

  “Does it have electricity?” Hallie hadn’t moved more than a couple of feet from her shiny new SUV. Unlike Sylvie, Hallie hadn’t played here. Hallie’s mother had been in a longtime feud with Irene over a banana bread recipe and wouldn’t allow Hallie anywhere near the woman who’d accused her of culinary thievery. Not that Hallie would have played in the mud and caught crawfish. Even from a young age, she’d been worried about the state of her hair and nails. Hallie was definitely the girly girl among them.

  “Of course it does.” The electricity was unreliable at times and a whole lot of the lights blinked off and on, but they worked. When they wanted to. “And it’s got AC and plumbing and everything. You don’t have to come in. You two can go if you want to. I’ve got some things I want to check out. I’ll call Remy and have him pick me up when he’s done with his shift at the restaurant.”

  “That’s hours from now,” Sylvie pointed out. “Besides, I’m curious about wh
at it looks like inside. How much crazier could it have gotten? I remember she used to have a collection of ceramic owls. They always creeped me out. I kind of want to face it again as an adult and maybe I’ll stop having nightmares about owls.”

  The owls were still there. And they were still creepy and weird.

  Hallie moved in beside her. “You love this place, don’t you?”

  She’d kind of expected that Hallie wouldn’t want to stay long, and Sylvie always had something come up. Sera had come fully equipped with a notepad, her cell phone, and a pen so she could start making lists. Probably long lists. Long, expensive lists. “I do. I love it a lot. I know it looks run-down, but it’s an amazing house and it’s got a gorgeous view of the bayou.”

  It had a lot of land around it. Sera had always thought her aunt could have done amazing things with all that land. In her mind’s eyes she saw a big patio with an outdoor kitchen and a firepit. She could throw parties where tourists could enjoy the beauty of the bayou with all the amenities of a great bed-and-breakfast. She could have lovely weddings out here.

  She could raise a family here, like her grandmother had.

  “Have you given any thought to living here?” Sylvie asked. “Not that you’ve had much time to think at all. It’s a lot to take in, but I remember you talking about what you would do with this place when we were kids.”

  The whole estate had seemed magical when she was a kid. Back then she hadn’t seen the disrepair. All she’d seen was the beauty. The whole world had kind of been that way. She wanted Luc to have that, to see the world the way it should be before he had to face the way it truly was.

  “Really? Live here?” Hallie wrinkled her nose like she couldn’t imagine the thought. “I mean I know you can’t live with your mom forever. But this is so far out of town. I always thought you would get one of those duplexes out near me.”

  Hallie lived in a small neighborhood mostly filled with families of oil rig workers. Her particular neighborhood was one of the nicest in town because it was where the engineers and drillers lived. There was another neighborhood, though close to Hallie’s, that was made up of manufactured homes and duplexes and fourplexes that served as housing for the roughnecks and their families.