Marisa Carroll - Hotel Marchand 09

by Her Summer Lover

  She spent a considerable amount of time in meetings with her clients in her work at Clarkson and Hillman, but few were as enjoyable as this one, she realized, even if it had gone on a bit. There had been energy and enthusiasm and a willingness to work hard to promote Indigo. It contrasted strongly with the staid and convention-bound milieu of corporate fund-raising.

  Following up on the slide-show presentation suggestion, Hugh Prejean volunteered to search the library archives for old photographs of the opera house and its environs, and someone else offered to photograph some of the old play bills in the attic. But that idea was tabled until they could check with a lawyer and find out if that would be infringing on some right or other of the absentee owner of the opera house.

  “What he don’t know won’t hurt him,” a woman Sophie had never met grumbled. “Doesn’t pay two hoots of attention to the place, anyway.”

  The meeting broke up shortly after that and the committee members filed out into the main seating area of the restaurant.

  Honeycomb hearts in pink and red were suspended on fishing line from the ceiling, clashing with the vintage green vinyl chairs and chrome tables that dated from the fifties. The floor was a checkerboard of black-and-white tiles. The countertop, where most of the regular lunch crowd chose to sit, was stainless steel, polished to a high sheen from years of being wiped down by two generations of waitresses. The room was crowded with diners filling up on the hearty lunch special of red beans and rice and homemade corn bread with a side salad of mixed greens and Willis’s fabulous sweet-and-sour dressing.

  Sophie saw an empty seat at the counter and decided to sit there. Willis Jefferson was at his usual place at the grill beyond the wide pass-through where orders were placed and picked up as he carried on a lively conversation with his patrons. She smiled a last goodbye to Marjolaine and turned to find Luc Carter arrowing in on the seat she’d been eyeing. He saw her at the same time and came to a halt. “Ladies first,” he said gallantly.

  “That’s okay. I’ll take the table by the window. It’s empty.”

  “Are you sure? Counter seats are prime real estate in the Blue Moon.”

  “I’m aware of that,” she said, laughing.

  But while they’d been talking, the druggist, Byron McKee, had come in the back entrance and slid onto the low stool.

  “Uh-oh,” Luc said. “He who hesitates loses the counter seat.”

  “Join me at the table, then,” Sophie offered. She had seen little of her host the past several days. She’d had meetings with Maude’s lawyer and her banker, tidying up the loose ends of the estate, and the rest of the time she’d spent at Past Perfect. For his part, Luc was busy with a house full of guests arriving for romantic Valentine’s Day getaways. They were all friendly when she had met them in the dining room for breakfast, or on the porch for tea or cocktails, but they were all couples. And she was not.

  She wondered if Luc felt the same?

  He pulled out a chair for her and picked up the menu. “I’m having a burger and fries,” he decided. “How about you?”

  “The chicken breast salad with feta cheese and green grapes sounds delicious. I’ll have that.”

  They gave their orders to the waitress and settled in to wait for their food. “How did the meeting go?” Luc asked. “I couldn’t make it. I had a…business…appointment in Lafayette.”

  “Pretty well. Everyone’s enthused and anxious to make it a success.”

  “That’s half the battle. I’ve been thinking maybe we could work up some kind of walking tour of the town for the festival. What do you say to that?”

  “I think that’s a great idea. You should bring it up at the next meeting.”

  “I’ll run it by Marjolaine, get her opinion.”

  Sophie filled him in on what had happened during the meeting. The efficient middle-aged waitress returned, served their food, refilled their sweet tea glasses and moved on to another table. Sophie speared a cube of chicken breast and raised it to her mouth. The fine hairs at the back of her neck stirred and she felt Alain’s presence even before she saw him in the doorway of the diner. He was dressed in black as usual and, as usual, he made her heart skip a beat or two.

  He didn’t come directly to her. She hadn’t expected him to. The people seated at the tables around them were his friends and neighbors, the citizens he had sworn to serve and protect. He greeted each of them with a half salute, or a wave and a friendly word.

  “Carter,” he said when he finally arrived at their table. “Shaping up to be a nice day.”

  “Supposed to be nice all weekend,” Luc replied.

  “Sophie.” She suppressed a shiver of desire as the smoky heat of Alain’s voice caressed her name.

  “Hello, Alain.” She hadn’t seen him since their kiss in the cupola of the opera house two days earlier. She’d thought she had herself under control, that she would be ready for this, but she’d been wrong. She was trembling inside and out, and she couldn’t stop herself from staring at his lips, remembering the feel of them against her own.

  “How did the meeting go?” he asked, not quite ignoring Luc’s presence, but coming close. “I got tied up on a 911 call.”

  “It went well. Luc and I were just discussing it. He couldn’t make the meeting, either.” She put her fork down so neither of them could see the slight tremor in her fingers. She’d been waiting for Alain to walk into the diner, she realized now. She’d been anticipating seeing him again ever since they’d climbed down out of the cupola and he’d walked off into the sunny afternoon. “They paged Dr. Landry out of the meeting,” Sophie said. “Was that the call you were on?”

  “Sam Castille’s mother-in-law.”

  “I hope she’s feeling better now,” Sophie said.

  “She’s fine. Made herself a batch of jalapeño hush puppies and ate all of them. And then found out they didn’t agree with her.” He grinned and shook his head.

  “Jalapeño hush puppies?”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “But she’s ninety.”

  “Doesn’t mean she doesn’t still have an adventurous palate,” Luc chimed in.

  They all laughed at that, including Alain.

  “I’m so glad she’s all right,” Sophie said, and she meant it. She had a host of acquaintances in Houston but only a few good friends, and all of them were busy with their own lives. They met for dinner or a movie now and then, but in between those events they went their separate ways. She was tired of being alone. She wanted to be part of a community. She wanted to gossip a little about her neighbors, worry about their health, rejoice in their successes. She wanted to belong.

  “She’s one tough old lady. She’ll live to be a hundred, at least. I see Willis has my order ready. My dispatcher needs the afternoon off. It’s my turn to man the barricades at the station.”

  “Here you are, Chief Boudreaux,” Estelle said, coming out of the kitchen to hand him a plastic bag filled with carryout containers. “Annette’ll ring you up at the register whenever you’re ready to go.”

  “Thanks, Estelle.” He accepted the bag with a smile then shifted his attention back to Sophie. “I finally got in touch with the company that installed the security system in the opera house. They’re sending a technician out the first of the week to recalibrate it for you.”

  “Thanks, Alain, I appreciate that. The insurance company will be relieved to hear it, too. They’re reluctant to let me open the store without it.” She saw the surprise she’d anticipated at her announcement on Luc’s handsome face, but Alain nodded as if he’d expected it all along.

  “When did you make the decision to reopen Past Perfect? Or maybe I should be asking why?” Luc was watching her with those unreadable eyes of his.

  “It’s more or less an experiment. And I think it’s what Maude would have wanted me to do.” That conviction more than any other consideration had prompted her decision. “There’s nine months left on the lease and tons, literally, of inventory. Hugh Prejean’
s niece, Amelia, has agreed to manage the store for me. She was one of Maude’s best pickers, so she’s qualified, and since she retired from teaching she’s looking for something to do.”

  “You should have announced this news at the meeting,” Luc told her. “They’re all worried what the owner will do with the building if Past Perfect moves out.”

  “I thought I’d wait a few days to make a public announcement. I’ll take out an advertisement in the Parish Gazette, maybe get one of those big banners to put across the front of the building.”

  Luc’s smile grew wider at the enthusiasm in her voice. Sophie glanced down at her plate in confusion. She shouldn’t be so excited. It was only a temporary solution, as she’d just said. In a year, more than likely, Past Perfect would be…in the past. The realization jarred. When she looked up again she had her emotions under control.

  “This way, everything should be running smoothly by the time I go back to Houston at the end of next week.” She waited for Alain to respond to her statement but he said nothing. If she had been hoping to throw him off stride with her disclosure, she hadn’t succeeded. At least not in any way that showed.

  “We’ll be sorry to see you go,” Luc said politely.

  “I’ve neglected my work there too long as it is.”

  “I understand.”

  But did Alain?

  “I have to get back to the station. Let me know when the security tech shows up. I’ll come right over.” Alain touched his finger to the brim of his hat. “Carter.”

  “See you around, Chief.”

  Alain turned his blue gaze back to hers and she realized how wrong she’d been to think he was unmoved. His eyes were storm-cloud dark and the furrow between his brows looked carved into his skin. She wondered if anyone else felt the earth move under their feet the way she did when he said, “Sophie, I’ll see you later.”

  ALAIN CLIMBED into the Explorer. The calendar might still say it was winter, but as far as he was concerned, it sure felt like spring. Maybe that was why he was so restless and at loose ends. Or it could be because Sophie had said she was going back to Houston in less than two weeks’ time, and he wasn’t ready for that to happen. He took a slow turn around the square. The talk he planned to have with her would have to wait a little while longer. He had a patrol to run, and an important errand to accomplish.

  He pulled into a parking space in front of the Flower Basket. He needed to pick up the red roses he’d ordered for his mom and Mamère Yvonne for Valentine’s Day before he forgot them and spoiled the effect by producing them a day late. He debated adding another rose to his order for Sophie but decided against it. If he got her anything it shouldn’t be the same thing he’d chosen for his mother and grandmother. Besides, they weren’t at that stage in their relationship yet. Hell, he couldn’t truthfully say they had a relationship—yet.

  Fifteen minutes later he was back on the road, two scarlet roses with sprigs of baby’s breath and some kind of fern wrapped in green tissue paper on the seat beside him. Mission accomplished, he radioed the dispatcher that he was heading out along the River Road to make a loop past the Gator Trap and the B&B.

  As usual, there wasn’t much traffic on the road that skirted this portion of the Bayou Teche. In his five-mile swing through the countryside he met up with half a dozen farmers in pickups on their way to town, two beer delivery trucks and a FedEx van, and an adventurous tourist or two. Pretty easy to spot, what with their out-of-state license plates and pricey foreign cars. Still, snowbirds venturing off the well-marked Evangeline Trail this early in the season was a good sign.

  Maybe the town Web site Estelle and Willis’s son-in-law, over at the Chamber of Commerce, had set up was starting to draw some hits? Get the town noticed, put Indigo and the Valois Opera House on the path to fame and fortune as a tourist destination. At the moment, however, he was more worried about the upcoming Cajun Music Festival. He hoped the town council gave him the go-ahead—and the funds—to hire more part-time officers to beef up his force before thousands of music lovers descended on the town.

  He slowed as he neared the turnoff to La Petite Maison, admiring the old house and the view of the bayou as he drove down the winding lane. He pulled into the graveled parking area at the side of the house, giving it the once-over as he backed into a turn. Sophie’s car wasn’t there, just a Volvo with Texas plates and a minivan with a Baton Rouge dealership sticker on the back panel. Two nondescript sedans appeared to be rentals. Carter had a full house for Valentine’s weekend. Good for him.

  He headed back into town. Sophie had probably passed him when he had pulled into the parking area at the public access to ask Deke Slayter how the catfish were biting. Back in town he cruised down Jefferson, keeping his eyes peeled for kids and stray dogs. There weren’t too many stray dogs, but there were kids everywhere. Starting tomorrow, school was out for the rest of the week. Some kind of teacher’s convention, or something down in Baton Rogue.

  It was the weekend Casey Jo had wanted to take the kids to Disney World, but he hadn’t heard anything from her in over a week so he was hoping she’d changed her mind. He could hope and pray and light candles to the Virgin that she’d stay away, but he wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she did turn up.

  He pulled to the curb in front of the opera house and looked in the front window of Past Perfect. Sophie’s car was in its parking place but the store was closed up. Movement in the distance caught his attention and he saw her walking across the square from the direction of Maude’s house. She was wearing the same sky-blue blouse she’d had on when he’d seen her earlier at the diner, but now he was treated to the sight of her swingy, dark-blue, calf-length skirt clinging to her legs and rounded hips in all the right places. He climbed out of the SUV and leaned one hip against the hood, watching her from behind the mirrored lenses of his sunglasses. Lord help him, she was a good-looking woman and he wanted her to be his.

  “Alain,” she said as she crossed the street and walked up to him. “I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”

  “Quiet afternoon.” He fell into step beside her as she climbed the low steps of the opera house.

  “Beautiful afternoon,” she amended. “I went for a walk after lunch and ended up at Maude’s. Now that I’ve got the store under control, it’s time I decided what to do with her house.” She pushed her hand into the pocket of her skirt, drawing his eye to the enticing V at the top of her legs. He jerked his gaze back to eye level as she inserted the key into the deadbolt.

  “Have any ideas?” he asked, holding open the door so she could precede him into the building.

  “Nothing specific.” She took off the white sweater she’d worn draped over her shoulders and hung it on a hook behind the counter. “I have to go through everything first. Decide what to keep, what to sell, what to give away. Then I’ll talk to a Realtor. Maybe I’ll rent it out for a year or so. Maybe I’ll put a for sale sign on it right away. I’ve had one or two people tell me they might be interested in it.”

  Suddenly he knew he was one of those people. Not for him and the kids. It was too small. But for his mother. She’d always liked Maude’s house. A doll’s house she’d called it. She could be comfortable there. And what about her big old house on Lafayette Street? He could buy it from her. It was a good house for raising a family. He’d been happy growing up in it. His kids were happy living there. Would Sophie be happy there, too?

  Lord, was he that far gone already? An hour ago he hadn’t felt he could buy her a single damned rose for Valentine’s Day, and now he was thinking about buying her a house? What about his vow not to get involved again until the kids were grown and on their own? It seemed he didn’t have any qualms about breaking that one, either.

  “Alain? Are you going to stand there letting in flies all afternoon?”

  “What?” It was the teasing lilt in her voice that brought him back from his thoughts.

  “Come inside and close the door. You’re letting in flies and dust. Do you kn
ow how long it takes to dust this place? Do you want to learn?”

  “All right. All right. I get the point.” He turned and shut the door very carefully and very quietly. He was in love with her. That’s all there was to it. He could sidestep, split hairs; tell himself it was only lust, psychic residue, unfinished business, not love, but he’d be lying, and deep down inside he knew it. He loved her. Had always loved her in some form or another, and it wasn’t going to go away.

  But if he didn’t make his move soon, she damned well might.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “SOPHIE we have to talk.”

  She turned her head. He was standing with his feet planted wide, his hands folded across his waist. Her heart rate kicked up a notch or two. Lord, what was it about a man in a uniform? Or was it just this particular man in a uniform that made her want to stare at him all day and lie with him all night? She didn’t even have to think about that one. It was the man who fascinated her, not what he wore.

  “Yes, Alain?” What did he want to talk to her about? Did he want to ask her out for Valentine’s Day? A date? She wouldn’t object. Maybe he would kiss her again. She wouldn’t object to that, either. She’d been thinking about his kisses for the last two days. And about more than kisses ever since the fireworks display was brought up at the meeting. The first time she’d made love with Alain had been after the Fourth of July fireworks that long-ago summer. She would never forget it. She wanted to make love like that again, in the backseat of his car, all heat and light and fiery passion.