“They’re our property,” Marie said, tears filling her eyes. “We were only trying to get back what was ours.”
“But if they were yours, why didn’t you just ask me for them?” Sophie’s eyes widened as she glanced over at him. “I’m sorry. I should let you ask the questions.”
“Go ahead. It’s your place that was broken into.” He realized at that moment he was wearing his “cop face,” as Casey Jo had always termed it. She hated it. He imagined the other women in his life did, too, but it came with the territory. He bet Sophie would get used to it, though. She was that kind of woman. But this time he was interrogating his own mother, so he made a conscious effort to relax. First, though, he gave his subordinate one more long, hard look. “I think we can all agree this will be off the record.”
The young cop held up a hand as though he were taking an oath. “Sure thing, Chief.” He folded his hands at his middle, hooking his thumbs in his belt and stared off into space as though he had just become invisible.
“Mrs. Boudreaux,” Sophie began.
“Cecily, please.”
“Cecily.” Sophie returned the older woman’s smile. “Please explain to us what’s going on with these animals. They’re cute, but the workmanship doesn’t match the price tags. And, well, they simply aren’t the kind of merchandise my godmother carried at Past Perfect. If they belong to you, why didn’t you just ask for them the first time you came into the shop?” She picked the furry kitten out of the sack, turned it over in her hand and scanned the tag. “Sixty-seven dollars. I just don’t understand.”
“Squeeze it,” Cecily said. “Squeeze its stomach.”
Sophie did as Alain’s mother directed. “What’s in here?”
“It’s a pill bottle,” Marie said. “We’re smuggling drugs in them.”
Alain felt his mouth drop open and shut it so hard his teeth knocked together. Homier coughed as though something had caught in his throat.
“You what?” Alain thundered. “You mean this frog is a mule?” He looked down at the toy he was still holding. He gave the frog a squeeze and felt something hard and cylindrical beneath his fingers.
“What?” Cecily looked confused.
“A mule is someone or something drug dealers use to smuggle drugs,” Marie hissed, rolling her eyes. “Don’t you ever watch the news?”
Alain pulled a penknife from his pocket and slit the frog open. A brown pill bottle popped out of the stuffing. He read the label, blinked and then read it again. “Yvonne Valois! Bisophl—?” How in the hell did you pronounce a word like that? It must have at least half a dozen syllables.
“It’s your grandmother’s blood pressure medicine, Alain,” Cecily stated defiantly. “We’re not smuggling illegal drugs. We’re smuggling medicine. From Canada.”
“Why in hell?”
“Because it’s too expensive to buy them here,” she said. “Or the government won’t okay its use, like what was in the teddy bear. I…I took it that day Dana and I came into the shop, Sophie. It was cancer medicine for W—”
“Don’t rat him out, Cecily,” Marie warned.
“Okay.” Cecily looked as if she wanted to cry but pride wouldn’t allow herself to. “Most of the people who have drugs in those toys don’t have health insurance, or plans with drug coverage, or they’re too young for Medicare to help. We all used to order our drugs separately, but a couple of years ago the feds started sending nasty letters warning us it was against the law.”
“And why that is, I’ll never know,” Marie broke in. “I thought buying stuff at the best possible price was the American way.” She folded her arms under her breasts and glared at Alain. “It’s none of the government’s business where I buy my cholesterol medicine. Or at least it shouldn’t be,” she added a bit less passionately.
“Oh, Alain. Sophie. I’m so sorry. We never thought this would happen. If Maude had lived one more day…” Cecily spread her hands in an apologetic gesture to Sophie, who nodded her understanding. “The animals would have been out of the store and into the hands of the people who have already paid for the medications inside them.”
“I still don’t see where we did anything wrong, just collecting what’s our own,” Marie said mulishly.
“You illegally entered private property and removed articles from that property without the permission of the owner.” Some of the tightness had left Alain’s shoulders and back, though he didn’t allow himself to smile. “Property valued at a substantial sum. Without verifiable proof of ownership, we’re looking at a felony charge, I’m afraid.”
“There’s an inventory list somewhere. My cousin always sent them separately. But you know how Maude—” Cecily bit her lip. “Felony?” She sounded as though her brain had only just registered the word. “Do you really mean to send us to jail?”
“We actually did Sophie a favor,” Marie insisted. “What if someone else had found that broken window latch? That fancy alarm system is only wired up to the ground-floor windows. Real crooks could have broken in and stolen everything. Set the place on fire. And wouldn’t that have caused a hell of an uproar?”
“What if I refuse to press charges,” Sophie said. “Then what happens?”
“I suppose we could lower the charges to criminal trespass.”
“Alain!”
“Homier, have you filed your report on this incident?” Alain turned his head to regard the younger man.
“Umm…” Damien’s face grew red once more. “Well, as a matter of fact, sir, I have not. I…I wasn’t quite certain how to…um, proceed,” he finished in a rush.
“Was there property damage?”
“Like they said, the latch was broken on the window, but it would be hard to prove they did it. There wasn’t any damage to the window frame from the outside. That I can say for sure.”
“I should check for wants and warrants,” Alain said.
“I’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket and you know it,” Cecily said, sensing the crisis had passed.
“Me, neither,” Marie seconded. “Well…maybe a few speeding tickets.”
“Since it’s a first offense for both of you, and neither of you have prior criminal records, if Sophie agrees I think we can consider the case closed.”
“I’m certainly willing,” Sophie said quickly. “Nothing was damaged, and you did me a favor finding the broken window latch. Let’s all go home.” She handed Cecily the bag of stuffed animals. “I believe these are yours.”
“Thank you.” Cecily’s eyes filled with relief.
“From me, too,” Marie said, peering into the bag as though to make sure all the animals were there. She took the bag from Cecily and held it out to Alain. “The frog, please. Your grandmother is waiting for her blood pressure medicine.”
It was Alain’s turn to feel the color creep up his neck. He dropped the gutted frog and the medicine bottle in the sack as though they were suddenly red-hot.
“I’ll drive you home, Mom.”
“My car’s at your grandmother’s. She…was supposed to be my alibi.”
Once more Officer Homier made a choking sound in the back of his throat and looked as if he wished he were anywhere else on earth but where he was.
“Mother, that’s enough—don’t say another word,” Alain cautioned in an exasperated tone. “You have the right to remain silent, remember. I’ll drive you over to Mamère’s to pick up your car. Marie, do you want to come with us? Casey Jo is at my house with Dana.”
“Thanks, Alain. I’ll walk. My car’s just behind the diner. I’ll meet you at the house, if that’s okay. I do want to see our little Snickerdoodle and make sure she’s all right.”
“I’ll ride with Marie,” his mother said hurriedly. “It’ll save you a trip. Are we free to go?”
“Promise me this will be your last shipment of smuggled drugs,” he said. “If the others want to keep ordering their medications from Canada, I can’t stop them. But I can’t have a smuggling ring working under my nose. Understa
nd?”
“But…”
“Look, I don’t make the laws. You guys have a good network set up here. Put it to use. Start lobbying Baton Rouge and Washington to change the law. That way everyone will benefit and I won’t have to bail my mother out of jail anymore.”
SOPHIE MEANT to go straight to the B&B when she left the police department, but instead she found herself pulling up in front of Past Perfect. The moon was out, the clouds having been swept away by a cool breeze while she and Alain were dealing with his mother and Marie.
She leaned her hands on the steering wheel and smiled. What an extraordinary day it had been. She hadn’t been so tired in a long time. But it was a good tired, the kind that came from accomplishing things. She was good at accomplishing things. She could juggle a dozen balls in the air at a time if she had to. She could make this work. In a few minutes she would drive out to the River Road and La Petite Maison, finish packing and then soak in a hot tub, but first she wanted to talk to Alain. She had no doubt he would be along in a minute or two, and this seemed the place to do it.
She looked up at the opera house as she got out of the car. The weather vane on top of the cupola glinted with hints of copper in the moonlight. The building needed work, a lot of it, but it still had life within its walls. She pulled the keys out of her pocket and unlocked the doors. She stepped inside to the now-familiar smell of potpourri and times past. The streetlight outside gave her enough light to see her way through the crowded displays, but she would have to make sure Amelia Prejean left a lamp or two on when she closed up in the evenings.
She was certain now that she wouldn’t close Past Perfect. But she had begun to wonder if it should continue in this location. Maude had opened her business here when the opera house was in danger of being neglected to the point of ruin. Her lease money had kept it going. But now it was time to change, time to stop talking and planning and start to act. Perhaps the absentee Canadian landlord would be more inclined to sell the building to the development committee if it didn’t have a tenant? After all, it seemed that he had little interest in the opera house as long as Maude’s lease money paid for the very minimal upkeep he was willing to perform. She glanced out at the darkened stores that lined the main square. Surely one of those vacant businesses could house Past Perfect and give her the space to spread out her inventory, showcase it so people could fully appreciate it.
She would ask Alain what he thought.
She continued into the auditorium, leaving one of the big carved doors open to the soft light of a Gone-with-the-Wind lamp that she switched on as she passed. Here, too, moonlight softened the darkness just enough to make out the rows of seats and the midnight folds of the stage curtains framing the black rectangle of the stage. Around her she sensed the inventory Guy and his friends had so carefully arranged for her. She would still send the fainting couch and one or two other items to the New Orleans dealer the appraiser had recommended, seed money for new merchandise and for Maude’s pickers to head back out onto the estate-sale circuit, but the rest would stay here.
Including the Delacroix fiddle that she hoped Alain would play for her.
She heard him then, walking up the steps of the opera house, opening the door. She turned, wondering if he could see her in the deeper shadows of the auditorium, watching as he came unerringly toward her, a darker, more substantial outline in the myriad of shadows surrounding her.
“Sophie?” His voice was low and rough. Goose-bumps rose on her arms and she rubbed the skin to soothe the tingle. They had waited so long to be together. Circumstances dictated they wait longer still, but only a short while.
“I’m in here, Alain.” She stepped into a small pool of moonlight slanting down from one of the high windows.
He moved toward her. “I saw your car parked out front. I was hoping you wouldn’t go back to the B&B right away.”
“I’ve been waiting for you. Is Dana all settled in?”
“She’s in the bathtub now with Mom and Marie hovering over her. She’s ordered up a snack of toast and warm milk, which she promises she won’t throw up. My grandmother is making Casey Jo uncomfortable in the kitchen and Guy, his quest completed, has shut himself into his bedroom with his CD and earphones.”
“He handled himself really well, Alain. I want you to know that.”
“And Casey Jo didn’t.”
“She did the best she could.”
“It won’t be good enough for the kids.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but it’s not your fault.”
“I’ll try to remember that. I promised to be back in time to tuck Dana in.” A note of regret tinged his words.
“Of course you need to be there to tuck her in. I don’t think it will take us all that long to settle what’s between us.” She smiled but he couldn’t see that. He stayed where he was, just inside the doors.
“You’re still planning to return to Houston tomorrow?”
“I have to go back.”
She saw, or sensed his brows snap together in a frown. “If you’re leaving, what more do we have to say to each other, Sophie?”
“Many things.” Quietly, surely, Sophie moved toward him. For the last few days she had been the one who was undecided, who couldn’t see clearly what she wanted in life. No more. Today she had seen all that she wanted, all that she could have if she only had the courage to open her mouth and speak three small words.
“But I’ll start with just one thing. I love you, Alain. Ever since that first summer. Even when I didn’t want to. Even when I shouldn’t have, part of me has been in love with you.”
“Then why are you leaving?” He was still frowning. She reached up and smoothed her fingertip over the furrows that were etched between his eyes.
“Because I have a life in Houston that I need to deal with. My parents. My job. How I’ll manage them in the future. I thought a lot about it on the trip out to Biloxi. I don’t want to quit what I’m doing, Alain. Big universities have whole departments to do what I do, but not every institution can afford that kind of expenditure. That’s where I come in. I wine and dine and sweet talk. And point out just what a great contribution the prospective donors would be making to the future. I keep it up until I get the endowment for the library or the science lab. Or even the new stadium.” She smiled. “I’m good at it. I do good. But there’s got to be a way to keep doing it from here. With you. I…I just need some time to figure out how.”
“I know you can do it, Sophie. God, I thought you were going to tell me you couldn’t handle everything me and my kids threw at you these past couple of days. I thought you might cut and run like Casey Jo. I’ll never underestimate you like that again.”
“See that you don’t.”
His strong arms closed around her. “It’s going to be a hell of a ride, Sophie. Are you ready for it?”
“More than ready. It’s what I want most in the world. Here. Now. Always.” His mouth came down on hers and she knew that she was destined to stay in Indigo all her life.
“We’ll need a place to live,” he said when the kiss ended, and she was pleased to hear the huskiness in his voice matched the breathlessness of her own. “Would you be willing to sell Maude’s house to the right buyer?”
“It’s too small for a family, Alain,” she said regretfully. They hadn’t spoken of that either, but she knew there would be babies for them, brothers and sisters for Dana and Guy.
“It’s not too small for my mother,” he said, threading his hands through her hair. “I’ve got the feeling she’s ready to get out of the big old house and I’m ready to fill it with more babies. How does that sound to you?”
“Exactly what I was thinking.”
“Good, then that’s settled. Anything else we’ve forgotten?”
“A wedding would be nice,” she said as he began to nuzzle her neck.
“We’ll manage that, too. Just not a big country-club one, okay?”
“Okay. And you could say you love me, too.”
“Then everything’s settled,” she said, resting her forehead against his shoulder.
“Well, maybe one more thing.” He tilted her head back, his breath soft against her mouth. “Would you wear that corset for me now and then?”
Sophie smiled, her answer swallowed up by his next kiss. Softly, very quietly, perhaps only in her head, she heard a woman’s voice begin to sing, sweet and low. Sophie had never thought the opera house haunted, but maybe it was and if not by the spirits of the two lovers who had built it, then by the music that had been made here in the past. Music that would fill this place in the future—if she had anything to do with it.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5709-6
HER SUMMER LOVER
Copyright © 2006 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Carol Wagner and Marian Franz are acknowledged as the author of this work.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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