“I am glad I caught you. When it gets this hot out, many shops close early. I suppose you find this climate a bit oppressive after Canada.” She placed the glass in front of me, and I could not resist taking a sip. The drink was not tea at all but something much more delicious. She laughed at my reaction. “Sarsaparilla. I like the flavor, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. I see quite a bit of Adam’s handiwork here in your parlor. I didn’t know you were a customer, but I think there’s some mistake. I’m not looking for a job. As you know, I have my own store. Iverson Sundries on Dauphin Street.”
“Miss Iverson, if I may be direct?” I nodded slowly. “I know all about your story and would like to help.”
“Really? How much of my story do you think you know?” I set the glass down and stood. How dare Adam talk to this woman about our private matters!
“Please, sit. I am a woman who appreciates the direct approach. I did not mean to offend you; it’s just that I too have crossed swords with Claudette. I know what a vicious adversary she can be, but you can beat her.”
“So you think closing my store and coming to work for you as a dressmaker will beat her? I’m afraid I don’t follow your logic.” I sat back down, suddenly feeling tired.
“Of course you don’t. You have no idea who I am or what I can do, Miss Iverson—or do you prefer Miss Page?”
“Delilah will do fine.”
“I have just learned that your attorney, Mr. Peyton, has every intention of advising you to withdraw your case.”
I could not hide my shock. “He can’t do that!”
She laughed dryly. “Oh yes, he can. He’s her cousin—and yours since you are a Page too. And as such, you can take him to court. You may not get much, but it will be on record and that might come in handy later. He should’ve shared with you his connection with her at your first meeting. It’s what legal folks call a ‘conflict of interest.’” I sank back in the chair. Could this day get any worse? Miss Weaver seemed to pick up on my thoughts. “Are you ready to quit?” She removed her hat pin and her hat and tossed it on the table beside her. She didn’t attempt to tame her wild red hair as she leaned toward me with one arm on the table, waiting for my answer.
“I don’t quit so easily. Why does my situation interest you so much, Ms. Weaver?”
With a smile she answered me, “Maundy, please. Why shouldn’t it? You’re a woman. I’m a woman. I believe we women should stick together. This world is an unfriendly place for us, hence my offer. I am not merely offering you a job; I offer you a way to get even. You need something—and you need it very badly. I can help you get it.”
Her tone of voice made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “And what is it you think I need?” The thought that I should never cross this woman flashed through my mind.
She laughed again. “The only thing a woman ever really needs—information.”
Surprised by her answer, I asked, “Information? I don’t understand. Information about dressmaking?”
“Don’t tell me you’re dull, Delilah. You can’t be dull with that face. No, not dressmaking. You’d be surprised how much you can learn during a dress fitting. There are not many social situations in which the classes mingle so easily. I have been a dressmaker all my life, as my mother was before me and hers before her. None of us Weaver women got into the business because we loved dresses.” She cackled at some joke that only she knew. “With just a glance I can take your measurements and see the perfect dress for you or any woman—tall, thin, short, fat. I can make any woman look and feel good. With that ability comes a lot of trust. Women trust me. And when they trust you, they tell you things.”
“And what kind of things do I need to hear?”
“Everyone has a secret, and most people don’t want those secrets to see the light of day. That includes the high-and-mighty Claudette Page. In fact, I would venture to say that of all the people in the great city of Mobile, she has the biggest secret of all.” She sipped her sarsaparilla and smiled at me through her yellow-tinged teeth.
“What secret might that be?”
“Oh, that’s for you to figure out. I don’t like Claudette Page, but she is not my mortal enemy—she’s yours. Your very existence has threatened everything she holds dear. Her reputation, her wealth, her family’s name—these are all things she’s willing to die for. But if you find out her secret and confront her with it, she’ll slink away like a scolded puppy. Now,” she said, setting her glass down and smoothing her dress as she stood, “I need a dressmaker. Your business is in shambles, and that’s not likely to change. Put a sign on the door that says you’re closed for remodeling. Have your brother install some new cabinets or something. While he works on that project, you come help me. I’ll make sure you get the opportunity to get the information you need.”
“Why are you helping me? I’m not ungrateful, but why?”
“I’ll keep my reasons to myself for now, if you don’t mind. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I would like to wait. Work for me for the next six weeks, and I can promise you everything will be different.”
I stood up and extended my hand to her. “You have yourself a deal, Maundy.”
She shook it and smiled broadly. “Smart girl. I’m Miss Weaver during working hours. I’ll see you at Rose Cottage in the morning.”
“At your house? I thought I was to work here, in the shop?”
“Oh no, dear. This little shop is for regular folks like you and me. My most exclusive clients have their fittings and consultations at Rose Cottage. It’s a private service that I offer them. For example, I have clients who need help with their Mardi Gras ball dresses, but privacy is an issue. Keeping those dresses secret is a must until the big reveal at the ball. It’s kind of a local tradition. It’s ridiculous how they try to outdo one another, but if it’s pearls they want, it’s pearls they will get. Or whatever strikes their fancy. That’s not going to be a problem for you, is it?”
“Not at all. And where is Rose Cottage located?”
“Turn left on Monterey Street and follow it to Virginia Street. My house is behind the Magnolia Cemetery. You can’t miss it. It’s the yellow two-story with the green shutters. Do you have a carriage?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Bring it. It will rain tomorrow. It always rains after heat like this. And dress nicely, Miss Page. You’ll meet your new attorney tomorrow.”
“New attorney?”
“My friend, Jackson Keene. He’ll help you get all this sorted out.”
“I don’t know how to thank you for all this.”
“One day I’ll tell you.” She leaned forward and peered into my eyes. “One day I will ask you for a favor. I will expect you to grant it. In the meantime, keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth closed. Don’t ask questions. The quieter, the less intrusive you are, the more likely they’ll trust you and the sooner you’ll hear something. Something useful you can use to put that old woman in her place. I have had enough of her and her moral society.”
With a final handshake I slipped out of the house and walked back home. In one conversation I had lost everything and gained it all again. I wondered about my new partner, Maundy Weaver. What did she want from me? It would do no good to ask. I could tell she was not the kind of woman who would be easily persuaded to do anything other than what she wanted. Still, this was better than any plan I currently had. Once again, life had handed me an unexpected fork in the road. I hoped this time I had chosen the right path.
Chapter 3—Henri
I drizzled the bourbon into the hot pan and watched the flames appear. I worked the pan just like a short-order cook, coating the pecans in the decadent glaze. Turning off the flame, I continued to cook the alcohol out, pleased that I hadn’t burned the pecans. At least not this batch. Glancing at my wristwatch, I had a moment of panic—Detra Ann would arrive any minute, and I wanted everything to be perfect. I did not want to stop and think about what I was doing, how foolish I was to even drea
m that Detra Ann and I would ever be anything more than friends. But I did hope and dream. Although I couldn’t deny that I cared about her, I didn’t know how she felt about me. Not only that, but we were business partners. What was I doing having heart palpitations over a business partner? “Strike one, strike two,” as my granddad used to say.
Walking the pan to the dining room table, I spooned the glaze over the plated roasted chicken. I couldn’t help but smile and for a moment felt confident that at least she’d like the dish I’d prepared for her. I tossed my dirty apron across the bar in the kitchen and searched for my lighter. No, on second thought, lighting candles would be coming on too strong. With nervous hands, I struggled to open a stubborn bottle of wine when I heard an unusual noise coming from the direction of the bathroom. It sounded like squirrels scratching at the wall—or someone breaking in! I put the wine aside and slipped quietly into my office. Removing my gun from the desk drawer, I went down the hall to investigate the source of the noise. I paused in the hallway waiting to hear the sound again. I was much more agile than I had been a year ago. I’d spent so much time at the gym—I had never been this fit before. My thirty-fifth birthday was last week, and I hadn’t told a soul. I didn’t need to be reminded how old I was. I couldn’t turn back time, but I could get in shape. And I had.
Scratch, scratch…
Nope, the noise wasn’t coming from the bathroom. It was coming from the guest room. As I stepped toward the door, I cocked my gun. I stood sweating in my gold-colored polo shirt, silently counting backwards from three. I heard a thud on the other side of the door and swung it open, my gun poised and ready to shoot the invader.
“Get up now!” I shouted in my most authoritative voice. “On your feet! Put your hands where I can see them!”
The intruder didn’t respond right away, but when she did I almost fell over. “Calm down, Henri. It’s just me,” the crumpled figure complained.
“Lenore?”
“Yep, the one and only.”
“What the hell are you doing climbing through the window? I could have shot you!”
“If you shoot me, you better hope you kill me. Because if you didn’t, you know I would kick your ass!” She dusted herself off and stood up to face me. Her expression let me know that nothing much had changed. She was still as crazy and defiant as ever. From the way her clothing looked, she didn’t need to bother trying to tidy herself up. The only time I’d seen my cousin dressed appropriately or nicely was at our grandmother’s funeral, and that had been more than twenty years ago. Today’s outfit was red leggings and an oversize pink shirt with black combat boots.
“I’m going to ask again, why are you climbing through my window? You plan on robbing me?”
“I don’t want nothing you have, Henri Devecheaux—I never have, and I’m sure as hell not a thief!” A little more apologetically she added, “I couldn’t come through the front door. You got a damn ghost on the front porch. You know I don’t fool with no ghosts.”
I laughed, setting my gun down with a sigh of relief. “What do you mean?” Before I could get an answer from her, the doorbell rang. “Um…just wait right here.”
“No, Henri! Don’t you open that door! I’m telling you the truth, fool! Don’t you ever listen? A ghost is out there!”
“Lenore, have you been drinking? That’s my dinner guest, Detra Ann. She’s a real person, my business partner—not a ghost.” I sighed and pointed toward the screwed-up window. “Just fix my screen. Please. I’ll be right back.” I couldn’t believe my luck. My crazy cousin had to show up tonight of all nights. Once again I felt as if the Man Upstairs had it in for me.
Sliding the gun into the back of my pants, I strode to the front door. It wouldn’t do to wave a gun around in front of Detra Ann, considering she’d been shot last year. The glass reflected her slender frame. I could tell from the length of her shadow that she was wearing high heels. That was promising. You didn’t wear high heels unless you wanted to impress someone. At least that was true for most women I’d met. On the other hand, Detra Ann wore high heels almost every day. I wasn’t sure who she was trying to impress. She was a natural beauty, even with bleached blond hair.
I opened the door with a smile, trying to act as naturally as possible. “Hey! Right on time. Come in, please.”
“Oh, Henri. It smells wonderful. Nice shirt.” She kissed my cheek and handed me a bottle of her favorite red wine. I pretended I didn’t notice the smell of whiskey on her breath. “I hope this goes with what you’ve prepared.” She flashed an empty smile.
“This is perfect.” Remembering the gun in my waistband, I pointed to the dining room and excused myself. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”
“Are you still fussing in the kitchen? Is there something I can help you with?”
“No. Everything is ready. This won’t take a minute.”
“Okey dokey.” She smiled again and walked to the dining room.
As I was returning the gun to the desk drawer, I heard the shower running in the bathroom. What was I going to do with Lenore? She had always been a lost soul, but her behavior had gotten worse after Aleezabeth disappeared. We had been the three amigos—Peas, Carrots and Onions, our grandma had called us. I was pretty sure I’d been Onions.
Aleezabeth…
How long had it been since I’d summoned up her memory? When was the last time I’d called the sheriff of Dumont and demanded an update? Too long ago. I’d let Aleezabeth down, first by leaving her to walk home by herself and now by failing to find her and bring her home.
I leaned against the doorframe with the wine bottle in my hand. So much for a nice, relaxing evening with Detra Ann. I’d have to explain Lenore before she had a chance to crash our dinner.
“Hey, you coming? I’m going to start without you!”
“Yep, on the way.” I stopped by the kitchen for the corkscrew and strolled into join her. To my surprise, Detra Ann had lit the candles and was already digging into supper. I poured the wine and sat down with her.
“Hidden talents, Henri. I had no idea you could cook like this. Are you professionally trained? Did you go to culinary school somewhere?”
I took a big swig of the fruity red wine. “No, but I’ve always loved cooking. I think it’s just a part of my heritage. You know, everyone from New Orleans can cook.”
She shook her head as she finished a bite of the chicken. “That’s not true at all. I had an aunt from New Orleans, and she was the worst cook on the planet. Every Christmas she’d make us these God-awful pralines and then call us the next day to see if we’d eaten them. It was so funny because my dad would lie to her and tell her they hit the spot. She never knew he had a hole dug in the backyard that he lovingly called ‘the spot.’”
“That sounds like something my father would have done. He was kind of a jokester.”
“I’ve never heard you talk about your father. Is he still alive?”
I took another swig of wine and eyed the hallway nervously. “I’m not sure.”
“What?” she asked incredulously.
“He kind of slipped away. Daddy liked playing music, or he did before he hooked up with my mother. He was a high school science teacher, but he dabbled in music—mostly jazz. One weekend a group of his old band buddies came around, and when they left town, Dad and his sax left too. I assumed he left with them.”
“That must have been so hard on you. How old were you?”
“Fourteen. My birthday was the month before he left.”
“And you’ve never seen him in all this time?”
“No, but that’s not unusual for my family—we’re all a bunch of wanderers. For example, my cousin Lenore showed up tonight. I haven’t seen her in years, and suddenly she’s here.”
Her dark eyelashes fluttered in surprise. “You should have said something. We could have had dinner another night. I hope I didn’t inconvenience you, Henri.”
“You’re never an inconvenience.”
S
he dabbed her mouth with the linen napkin and smirked. I could tell she didn’t believe me. After a year, I knew her facial expressions pretty well. At least I thought I did. We chitchatted about work stuff, like the crate of antiques that had come in that morning, a client that refused to pay us, the noise from the construction on Dauphin Street. When our plates were nearly empty and the conversation died down, I felt more relaxed. I was pretty sure that Lenore had passed out on my bed, but at least she wouldn’t be crashing our dinner date—I hoped.
“I have to admit I had an ulterior motive for inviting you here.”
She set the napkin on the table, leaned back in the chair and appraised me suspiciously. “Not to steal your thunder, but before you tell me, I have something for you. For your birthday.”
“How did you know I had a birthday?”
“I took a peek at your driver’s license a while back. Since you didn’t mention it, I figured you wanted to keep it quiet. You know, thirty-five isn’t ancient.” Opening her oversize purse she removed a gold box with a royal blue ribbon wrapped around it. “This is for you.” She slid it toward me.
I laughed in surprise. “I can’t believe you did that. You’re full of surprises, Detra Ann.”
“Wait until you open it.”
I picked up the box and put it back down. “I am sure this is a wonderful gift, but I really want something else.”
She froze for a second and said, “Okay, what do you want?”
“I want a dance. I mean, it is my birthday.” I walked to the CD player and hit play. I hadn’t planned this, but it felt right. Etta James began her sweet serenade.
At last…my love has come along…my lonely days are over…and life is like a song…
With a sad smile, Detra Ann joined me on the makeshift dance floor. Her arms slid around my neck, and I held her close. Her long blond hair rubbed against my hands, and I did my best to breathe slowly so my heart wouldn’t beat out of my chest.
The Ultimate Seven Sisters Collection Page 49