by Lexi Blake
“Then someone should tighten them,” Celeste ground out. It was obvious Margret was a moron, but then she should have known that little mouse couldn’t get the job done. And now there was paperwork, and she knew how government entities functioned. She hung up before Margret could say another word.
She was about to dial up her attorney when there was a brusque knock on the door, and suddenly Sylvie Martine was striding in past her useless assistant, who might be looking for a new job soon.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Beaumont,” Carla was saying. “She insisted. I tried to tell her you were on an important phone call, but she walked right by me.”
Celeste made a note to herself to hire a quicker, wilier receptionist. She would bring in the coach of the local football team to teach her how to tackle unwanted visitors like the one she found herself face-to-face with now. Sylvie Martine was young to be a mayor, but there was no way to mistake the air of authority the twenty-seven-year-old exuded. She was dressed in slacks and a chic blazer, the silk blouse beneath of an acceptable style. Sylvie would be someone Celeste would tell Angela was a suitable friend, even a suitable potential daughter-in-law, despite her working-class roots. If only Sylvie chose her friends well.
“It’s all right, Carla,” Celeste said, sitting down in the chair she’d bought when she’d taken over after Ralph passed on. “I always have time for our mayor.”
Sylvie stood in front of the desk, her arms crossed and obviously ready for a fight. Before the door had even closed, her eyes had narrowed. “I would like to understand why you’re attempting to bribe city employees.”
She was going to take that route? “I assure you there was nothing exchanged between me and Margret. I was simply asking about a property that happens to be close to my own.”
“A property that also happens to have changed ownership to a woman you have had problems with in the past,” Sylvie pointed out.
In the past? Her son was still dead, so there was no “past” about her problems with Sera Guidry. How could there be when the woman paraded herself around town constantly? It would have been bad enough if she was like many of the other young adults who only came home for holidays and visits, but Sera was always around. She was a cockroach nothing seemed to drive away. “I assure you my only thoughts are about safety. You know Guidry Place has been falling into disrepair for years.”
Sylvie wasn’t backing down. “Yet you only decided to call code compliance in when Seraphina took over the deed.”
She’d sat up thinking about how she would sidestep that particular point. It wasn’t like she didn’t know Sera had a friend in city hall. Sera, Sylvie, and that pudgy blonde with the baby were always hanging around together. “Well, I certainly wasn’t going to turn an old woman out of her home.”
And she’d believed Irene Guidry when she said if Celeste tried anything, she knew how to cut brake lines.
“Of course, this is all about you being an upright citizen,” Sylvie said with a shake of her head. “I’m here to explain to you that you will not intimidate city employees into doing your dirty work.”
“I was unaware that enforcing city codes was dirty work, Madam Mayor. It sounds more like you’re bending the rules for your friend.” Any argument could work both ways, Celeste knew. Turnabout was fair play. “I’m sure that might come up in your next election.”
Sylvie snorted. “Bring it on, Celeste. If you want to import a ringer to be mayor to all the crazies of this town, I welcome it. I can go back to my original plans. And you can deal with the fallout when whoever you bring in resigns six months in.”
She did have a point, but it was terrible not to have someone she could intimidate at the mayor’s office. The younger generation did not pay the proper respect. “Well, you should understand that I do expect to live next to properly maintained homes. I’m certain Angela will be thinking about a family after she gets married. I won’t have my grandbabies endangered because the Guidrys can’t take care of their own property. And if code compliance can’t enforce its own rules, then I’ll take that up with the city council.”
“I assure you Darnell’s reports will be perfect. He’s a straight shooter. Per the city’s codes, Sera has ninety days to come into compliance. Code compliance is about making sure everyone is safe. Not kicking out people you don’t like or condemning houses we all know you want to buy.”
Celeste sat back. Sylvie might have youth on her side, but Celeste had found that sometimes patience was a far better tool than anything else. “It’s not the house I want. I assure you Sera is wasting her time since I’m going to raze the entire thing and build something new.”
“She’s working hard on that house,” Sylvie argued.
“You know she won’t be able to afford the taxes and insurance on that place.” Maybe there was another way to win this particular war. If Sylvie could convince her friend to sell, she would make leaving Papillon a condition of the contract. “Not to mention the upkeep on a place like that. She certainly can’t afford it when she can’t seem to keep a job.”
“You know exactly why she can’t keep a job. Don’t think you can use city hall to force my friend out of town.” Sylvie turned and strode to the door before turning back. “I know you think that the Beaumont family is as respected as the Daroises, but you’re wrong. This town adores Pamela Darois, and they love her son just as much. They fear you. That’s the only reason they defer to you.”
“Well, you know what Machiavelli said.” And yet she’d always hated that quote. It is better to be feared than loved if you cannot be both. She wasn’t sure anyone could be both. Hadn’t she always hated the fear her mother-in-law brought every time she walked into a gathering, how every single woman there knew she was about to be judged and found wanting?
Sylvie glanced around. “I’m surprised you didn’t take over your husband’s office. It has a much better view.”
“I’m only here until Cal settles in.”
“Really? Because you’ve been running this place since Ralph died. I heard you implemented a few changes and last year the stock was up. Cal never struck me as the type to take over such a large operation. He was always happier being creative.”
Celeste felt her shoulders go rigid. “Cal will be a wonderful CEO. Ralph always meant to leave the company to one of his sons. That’s been the Beaumont way for a hundred years.”
Sylvie seemed to think about that for a moment. “Well, you’re the last Beaumont standing, Celeste. It’s your family now. How are you going to run it? Maybe you should stop worrying about Sera and start being who you could be. Start setting an example for the women of Papillon, and not the one your mother-in-law set. You’re good at running Beaumont Oil. The town could use a female CEO.”
Celeste stared at the door as it closed.
Sylvie was wrong. The job was Cal’s and she wasn’t going to take it from him.
And when he took over? What would she do then? She was sick of the endless rounds of socializing, tired of always trying to look perfect, be perfect.
A CEO didn’t have to be perfect. He only had to be good at his job. That’s what Ralph always said. He left perfection to the women of the family.
But none of that mattered because her son would do what Beaumonts did. He would take over the company and then she would fade into the background.
She would concentrate on her home. That’s what Beaumont women did. They made perfect homes.
Perfection, in this case, started with getting rid of Seraphina Guidry.
chapter six
“What do you mean you rented the truck to someone else?” A fine edge of panic went through Seraphina as she looked at Jerry Nichols, who owned the local gardening center/feed store that also hired out a fleet of service vehicles. At least that was what he called it. Sera wasn’t sure a tractor, two backhoes, and an old moving van that still had U-Haul on the side of it counted as a f
leet.
In Papillon, stores often served more than one purpose. Also in Papillon things went sideways on a daily basis, but she couldn’t have this go wrong.
“I didn’t do anything, hon,” Jerry said with an apologetic smile. “It’s my daughter. She set up this whole Interweb site thing. It’s newfangled nonsense if you ask me. I can take a reservation just fine on the phone, but she insisted it would work better this way.”
“It does work but only if you actually turn the computer on.” LaTonya walked in from the office, giving her father a tired shake of her head. “If you had looked, you would have seen the moving truck was reserved for today and won’t be back until tomorrow morning. Also, payment’s already been made in full. Dad can refund your down payment or we can shift your reservation to tomorrow when we will actually have the truck back.”
“The truck is still here. It’s out in the parking lot.” Tomorrow morning would be far too late. She held up the rental agreement. “But I have paperwork. And I have cash.”
“Yeah, Dad’s good with paperwork,” LaTonya agreed. She pointed to the computer monitor. “However, this rental agreement was signed and agreed to twenty-four hours before yours.”
“But the other person only talked to a computer,” Sera argued, desperation starting to sink in. “I talked to a person. People trump computers, right? I mean, I had the courtesy of actually coming in here yesterday and talking to you, Mr. Nichols. You remember how we talked about the Saints and how they’re going all the way this year?”
Mr. Nichols nodded. “I do and it was nice of you. People should communicate more. It’s why the world is going to hell in a handbasket. Computers. They’re the real problem. You can’t look a man in the eyes over a computer.”
She might still have a chance at this. “I agree. You don’t even know who rented the truck. It’s just a name on a computer screen. You don’t know that this person won’t drive away with the truck and never come back.”
“I promise to come back,” a deep voice said. “I was not going to flee with the truck.”
Sera groaned inwardly because she knew that voice. It was deep and musical and haunted her dreams lately. Harry Jefferys, of the gorgeous face and the handy ways. It had been a week since she’d told him it couldn’t work. One week since he’d kissed her like she was the most important woman in the world. She’d called him arrogant, but he was right about his skills. The man could kiss, and she hadn’t wanted him to stop. There had been a big piece of herself that had wanted him to keep kissing her and stroking her, and if they found themselves horizontal, then she could have blamed it on her emotional state.
He’d been a gentleman, and now she dreamed about his hands on her. After he’d managed to rewire the kitchen lights, she’d told him he didn’t need to come back in the morning, that she could handle it. And every single day he showed up during his morning run. Every single day she told herself she would smile and send him on his way. And every single day he ended up fixing something, and damn but that man was even sexier when he was holding a hammer.
He’d fixed the porch steps, making it possible for her to safely enter her new property and buying her ninety days with the city. On Tuesday she’d been smart and hadn’t been outside when she knew he would come through. He’d knocked on the door and explained that Shep really needed some water and could she help a puppy out? He’d then stayed four hours to work on the kitchen sink, which now gave her access to clean water and not brownish sludge. On Wednesday he’d caught her in town buying the wrong screws for the repairs to the light fixture in the living room. It threatened to fall on her head every time she walked under it. He’d helped her get the right ones and followed her back because he assured her it would be a two-man job. It hadn’t been. He’d handled it all by himself while she’d made a couple of extra sandwiches because the man could eat. By Thursday, she waited on the porch for him because that furniture wasn’t going to move itself. On Friday she’d let him help her fill the back of his truck with donations to the local women’s shelter, and when he’d claimed he needed lunch, she’d gone to Guidry’s with him and they’d eaten gumbo in the kitchen and drunk sweet tea.
And the weekend. This weekend he’d helped her pull the carpet out of the living room and hallways, and it had been a bit warm so he’d taken off his shirt. Then it had been even warmer.
She liked him. Really liked him. She couldn’t stop thinking about the man, and it was getting annoying.
She turned and there he stood in jeans instead of his usual athletic wear. He had on a T-shirt that hid all those muscles of his, but the sight was imprinted on her brain forever. Shep sat at his side, tail thumping against the floor.
“Is there a problem?” When Harry moved, the dog shifted with him. The leash wasn’t really needed, but Harry tended to attach it when they were in town.
She already knew way too much about his habits. She knew how he liked his coffee. A splash of cream. A lot of sugar. Knew he hummed when he got lost in work, and he was usually humming some country song. Knew he was a baby when it came to cayenne pepper.
She definitely knew she was developing a soft spot for a man who should be totally off limits. “You already have a truck. I need this one, Harry. The flooring store in New Orleans is having a sale today on the hardwoods I need, but they won’t hold it until tomorrow. If I don’t pick it up by four, they’ll release it for sale. It’s sixty percent off.”
“That’s an excellent discount.” Harry handed his driver’s license to LaTonya, who already had the keys in her hand. “You should definitely move on that. I browsed through the catalog you have and that hand-scraped oak will look beautiful and it doesn’t look too hard to install. I’m picking up the wood I need for the gazebo. The individual pieces are too long for my truck and it’s supposed to rain this afternoon. I don’t want it wet before I stain and finish it. So I rented the moving truck.”
“But I rented the truck.” She held up her paperwork. Harry was always super fair. “See. I even paid a down payment.”
He picked up the pen on the desk as LaTonya pushed some papers in front of him. He glanced down at the contract. “I paid the whole fee up front.”
Tears pulsed behind her eyes. What was she going to do if she couldn’t get the flooring? She would have to pay more or go cheaper. The oak was perfect. It would catch the light from the big bay windows and it would look golden. “You can have it tomorrow. Or I could drive real fast and try to get back here by afternoon. Would that work?”
He glanced her way. “It’s two and a half hours to New Orleans, so that means it’s also two and a half back. It’ll take a while to pack up the truck and get all the business stuff done. You couldn’t possibly return in time for me to get to the store before it closes.”
“Couldn’t you get it tomorrow?” He wasn’t even paying for it. His aunt would be paying, and she didn’t need a discount. Celeste Beaumont didn’t clip coupons and only eat the specials at the café.
He turned her way, his lips quirking up in a smirk. “I’m on a deadline. Gotta get my cousin married off and all.” That smirk turned down as he looked at her. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll drive. You can navigate. And that means they need to refund your deposit.”
She blinked back tears. “What?”
He sighed. “It’s a big truck. You’re picking up what? Fifty boxes of flooring?”
“Seventy.”
“It will all fit with room to spare,” he said. “But we’ll have to drop Shep off. I don’t know anyone’s home right now, but I can probably talk the maid into watching him. The cab will be too crowded with two of us and a big dog. Besides, he’s a little gassy. Too many treats.”
He was willing to share it with her? And she got her deposit back? “I can pay for half.”
“Or you can navigate because I don’t know the roads around here and half the time there’s a gator lounging in the center
of whatever road I need to be on. Also, the sheriff is quick with a ticket.”
“That’s Armie. I heard the fridge at the station house has been acting up so he’ll ticket everyone until they can get another,” she explained, her heart rate back to something normal. Well, normal when she was around Harry, which was still elevated. “He’s married to my brother’s sister-in-law so I can usually get away with a warning.”
“See, you’re already helpful.” He signed the final contract with a flourish. “If I have to stop back by Beaumont House, we need to get going. Shep, you’re getting shut out for a girl, buddy. Sorry about that.”
Shep simply wagged that tail of his.
Sera had a better idea, an idea that did not involve her being seen with Harry anywhere close to his aunt’s house. She had no illusions that the staff wouldn’t report to Celeste that Sera had been in the truck when Harry dropped Shep off. “My place is closer. It’s on the way out of town. My mom wouldn’t mind having a friend for the day, and I know Luc would love it. He’s good around dogs. He won’t try to climb him or anything. He’s been around Lila’s dog.”
The softest expression came over his face. “You want me to meet your kid?”
“Well, I don’t know that we’ll have a lot of time to meet anyone.” She was right back to shy again. Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea. Her mom would take it all wrong. Her mom would tell Remy, who would likely be all big brother about it when there wasn’t anything to really protect her from since they were only friends.
Of course, she had a baby with her last male friend, so there was that.
“Maybe we should think about this.”
He shook his head. “You think way too much. It’s my place or your place. We need to hit the road or it’ll be late before we get back.”
“There’s a storm coming in,” Jerry warned.