The Lyon Legacy

by Peg Sutherland

  “Of course you do, but...today?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said yet again. Her head drooped. “I don’t like to walk out on you, but I’ve got no choice. I hope there’s no hard feelin’s.”

  “None at all.” It would have been easier if there had been. “Can I drive you to the airport? Do you need money?”

  She stopped short in her anxious motions. “You know I probably won’t be comin’ back.”

  “That has occurred to me.”

  “And you’re still willing to give me money?” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Mr. McKay, you’re a true gentleman, but I don’t need your money. I just need you to understand.”

  “I do, Mrs. Simms.”

  “And you, my little lump of sugar...” Bending down, she opened her arms to Cory.

  Who, now that Michael had time to notice, was taking all this remarkably well.

  “Goodbye, Mrs. Simms. I love you.”

  But it was pretty much said by rote. When they were alone, truly alone, Cory turned to Michael with a big grin on her face.

  “Now we can ask Leslie to come live with us,” she said, her voice trembling with excitement. “Please, Daddy, can we?”

  SUNDAY AT LYONCREST meant mass at St. Paul’s followed by a brunch. Often guests were included, but on this particular weekend, only family members, including Rachel and Crystal, gathered.

  When Leslie entered a few minutes late, Rachel was telling a story about how she’d come to Lyoncrest to live some twenty-five years ago as an urchin of thirteen. “I was lucky to be one of Margaret’s strays,” she concluded fondly. “André brought me here, but the Lyons took me in. If they hadn’t, I’d probably have grown up to be the terror of the bayou.”

  Leslie unfolded her napkin. “Instead, you’re the terror of Lyoncrest.”

  Everyone laughed, Rachel the hardest. Then she did a double take. “Leslie, you look wonderful!” she declared, accepting the silver bread basket from Crystal. “What have you been doing to yourself? Whatever it is, I want some.”

  Before Leslie could respond, her mother spoke.

  “Leslie’s in love,” Gaby said with a smile. “High time, don’t you think?”

  Leslie groaned. “I am not in love. I...I’ve been seeing a very nice man, Rachel. We’re good friends, that’s all.”

  “Do I know him?” Rachel spooned scrambled eggs onto her plate from an ornate serving dish.

  “Maybe. His name is Michael McKay and he’s the director of human resources at WDIX.”

  Rachel’s eyes widened. “Of course. I spoke to him for a few moments at the WDIX Christmas party, but then he disappeared.”

  “With Leslie,” Crystal said with an impish grin.

  “He’s gorgeous.” Rachel looked impressed. “I got the feeling he was very highly regarded by the other employees.”

  “He is,” Crystal confirmed. “All the women are after him, but Leslie’s got him.”

  André rolled his eyes. “Can we talk about something else?” he asked. “Can’t you people see how embarrassed Les is by all this?”

  Gaby looked affronted. “Why should she be embarrassed? We’re all delighted for her.”

  That was Mama; she simply couldn’t understand why everyone in her world didn’t have the sort of confidence she had, most especially her children.

  Two out of three children did.

  “It’s all right,” Leslie said with a long-suffering sigh. “I’m used to being embarrassed. Just don’t get your hopes up too high, because you’ll be in for a big disappointment.”

  The doorbell rang. Moments later a maid entered to whisper into Paul’s ear. He frowned.

  “Leslie, your young man is here. Please invite him to join us for brunch.”

  Leslie’s heart skipped a beat. Why would Michael arrive unannounced on a Sunday? Could something be wrong with Cory?

  She leaped to her feet. “Please excuse me.” She almost ran from the room.

  Those remaining looked at each other with surprise. Then Paul said, “Margie, I’m not sure she even heard me. Would you be so good as to make sure the young man receives our invitation?”

  “Of course, dear.” Dropping her napkin on her chair, Margaret followed her granddaughter’s path at a more sedate pace. Young people today didn’t seem capable of concentrating on more than one thing at a time. Why, in her day—

  She stopped short, arrested by the sound of Leslie and Michael talking just out of sight in the entryway.

  “...to arrive this way without calling first.”

  “It’s all right, Michael.” Leslie sounded anxious. “Is it...is it Cory? Has something happened to her?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. She’s waiting outside on the lawn swing.”

  “What, then? Why didn’t you bring her in? You’re scaring me!”

  “I don’t mean to.” Spoken very low.

  Margaret knew she should make her presence known, but some sixth sense told her that would be a mistake. So she lingered.

  And was rewarded.

  “Leslie,” Michael McKay said in a voice suddenly filled with determination, “I’ve looked at this from every angle, and I’ve come to the conclusion that we should talk seriously about getting married.” His deep intake of air was audible. “If you haven’t changed your mind...I want you to be my wife.”

  What a peculiar proposal! Margaret could hardly bear the tension of waiting for the answer. Then Leslie’s voice reached her, trembling with intensity.

  “Yes, Michael, of course I will. Yes!”

  Smiling, Margaret turned and walked quietly away.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THROWING HER ARMS around Michael’s neck, Leslie pressed her trembling body against him. Her thoughts were in chaos. Why wasn’t he kissing her, telling her that he’d realized he’d fallen in love with her? Why was he just standing here as still as the statue of General Andy guarding Jackson Square?

  She pulled back enough to look into his face and her joy faded. She said his name tentatively.

  “I’ve got to be perfectly up front about this, Leslie.” His jaw was tight and a certain wariness tinged his expression. “There’s a lot I have to explain before I can let you make this commit—”

  “Leslie!” Gaby rushed into the foyer, Rachel and Crystal right behind. “Your grandmother told us! We’re so thrilled!”

  She gave her daughter a fierce hug. Over her mother’s shoulder, Leslie’s gaze met Michael’s, which filled with alarm. “Mama, please—”

  Rachel thrust her hand out to Michael. “Congratulations. I’ve always thought it would be a lucky man who married our Leslie.” She added, “I’m Rachel Fontaine. We met at the WDIX Christmas party.”

  “I remember you, Rachel.” Michael took her outstretched hand, but the cautious expression had not left his face.

  Crystal hugged Leslie. “You’ve got yourself a great guy, Les. All best wishes.”

  “Michael!” Gaby threw her arms around him. “Welcome to our family. We’re at the table. Please, come in and join us.”

  “Cory—my daughter—is outside. Perhaps we should just go and...and come back another time.”

  “Nonsense! Leslie, bring the child in. I’m sure Andy-Paul will be thrilled to see her. In the meantime I’ll take this young man inside and let him ask for your hand in proper fashion.” Gaby winked, letting them all in on her joke, but she wasn’t joking when she dragged Michael away.

  “OH, MY GOD,” Leslie said, so faintly Michael could hardly hear her. “What have we done?”

  Alone in the sunroom at last, Michael sat down heavily on one of the upholstered cane settees and stared out of the glass-enclosed room at the huge oak tree growing close to the house. How had things gone so wrong so fast?

  “It’ll be all right,” he said, although he was far from believing it. Having her family burst in on them that way, before he had a chance to say what needed saying, had thrown him. “Come sit down by me so we can talk.”

  “What is there to talk abou
t? They’ve already got us married and the parents of a dozen children.” But she did as he requested.

  “I was trying to explain,” he said.

  She glanced at him sharply. “Explain what? I figured your proposal was self-explanatory.”

  The pressure on his chest eased. “Was it? You understood, then, that I was trying to take you up on the offer you made the night of the WDIX party—if you’re still willing, of course.”

  She grew very still and all expression left her face. “Perhaps you should spell it out, just to be sure.”

  He sighed and nodded. “Les, I’ve come to admire and respect you even more over these past couple of months, and Cory adores you.”

  “I adore her, too.”

  “I thought we’d settled into a fairly agreeable relationship.”

  “Agreeable?” The word left her lips like a curse. “I suppose you could call it that.”

  “But a couple of things have happened.” He hated to go on but knew he had to. “Mrs. Simms left for St. Louis yesterday. She won’t be coming back.”

  “Cory needs a baby-sitter so you thought of me?”

  He winced. “That’s not quite how I’d have phrased it, but...yes, she does. Actually, she asked for you.”

  For a moment he was afraid he’d made matters worse, but then Leslie gave him a faint, ironic smile. “I see. What else?”

  “Cory’s grandmother is making threats again.” Should he also mention that he’d noticed the way Leslie’s family tended to overlook her feelings? How he understood far better now why she’d made the offer in the first place? No, he decided; that would sound too much like he pitied her.

  She just looked at him, her hands folded in her lap atop her dark linen skirt. She seemed quite self-possessed—and quite lovely. Was she doing something different with her hair or makeup, something he hadn’t noticed before?

  “Let me get this straight,” she said. “You want to get married to protect your daughter.”

  “Unless you’ve changed your mind?” His stomach muscles clenched. In his heart, he’d really expected her to go for this.

  “Well—” she looked away, evasive for the first time “—not exactly. I just need to know the ground rules. It would be hard to tell my family we’d made a mistake, but we can if we have to.”

  “Ground rules. Okay, I’ve thought about that. You need my help until after the Fourth of July celebration.”

  She flinched. “That’s a start.”

  He pressed ahead. “And I need you long enough to get Cory into a...a situation her grandmother can’t find fault with. So I was thinking... wait a decent period of time, and after the Golden Anniversary, we can quietly separate. Give everyone time to get used to it. Then we can divorce—a friendly divorce of course, and that’ll be that.”

  It all sounded incredibly callous, he knew, but that was what she’d proposed, wasn’t it? He didn’t need to explain it to her.

  “What about Cory?”

  “What about her? She loves you.”

  “I feel the same, but what happens when you and I separate?”

  “Would you turn your back on her?”

  “Never!” Anger flared in her velvet eyes. “What do you take me for?”

  “Exactly what you are. A kind, loving, compassionate woman who’ll continue to be Cory’s—” not mother, he couldn’t say mother “—friend and mentor. True?”

  “True,” she whispered.

  “That’s what I wanted to say to you in the hall, before everybody burst in on us. The way it happened wasn’t fair to you.”

  “Forget fair.” She stared down at hands still folded in her lap. “If I say no, what will you do—about Cory, I mean?”

  He shrugged, as if the choices he faced didn’t put him between a rock and a hard place. “I’ll probably move back to New York so Cornelia can see her granddaughter. That’s what she really wants, not custody. Actually, I can’t blame her. But one thing I know—she’ll do what she has to do to get her way.” Just like her daughter before her.

  Leslie nodded slowly. “In that case...I’ll marry you, Michael McKay.”

  The weight of the world fell from his shoulders. “God, Leslie, I thought for a minute you’d changed your mind.” He sagged with relief. “I owe you for this one, hon. You’ll never regret it, I swear.”

  She didn’t smile. “I hope you never regret it, either.”

  THEY WERE MARRIED five days later in Las Vegas at a wedding chapel above a casino in one of the big hotels on the Strip. Leslie could hardly believe this was happening; she was married to the man of her dreams.

  Unfortunately her dreams had rapidly turned into nightmares. For openers, her mother had pitched a fit when the wedding plans were announced.

  “Your wedding could be the social event of the season,” Gaby had complained. “You can’t do this to us, Leslie. Run off to Las Vegas like a...” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

  Leslie nearly choked on her reply, which should have been, “I wish!” but was, instead, a defensive, “No!”

  In the end of course, she and Michael had insisted on doing it their own way. Now the deed was done and the smiling—was he a minister, a justice of the peace, what?—was nodding and saying, “You may kiss the bride. Please pay the cashier on the way out.”

  It sounded so tacky and tawdry, at least until Michael turned a big grin on her and announced, “Mrs. McKay, may I have this dance?” He swept her into his arms and whirled her around the only space in the room not covered with plastic roses and glittery streamers.

  Laughing, she clung to him, her anxiety easing somewhat. Michael always, always made her feel better. He would make this work. She knew he would.

  Releasing her, he dropped a light kiss on her nose, another on her cheek. Beside them, Cory laughed and clapped her hands.

  “I wanna see the circus now,” the little girl declared. “Please? You promised! I wanna go on a roller coaster and a merry-go-round and see a dinosaur.” She grabbed for their hands. “Come on, Daddy! Come on, Mama!”

  Leslie melted. She’d never thought to earn the title of Mama. “Yes,” she agreed, “let’s go!”

  And that’s how she came to spend a good part of her honeymoon on a roller coaster.

  “YOU TAKE THE BED,” Michael said. “I’ll take the couch and be up before Cory’s even awake.”

  Leslie chewed on her lower lip, and he supposed she’d been dreading this moment. She needn’t have. He’d sworn he’d do the right thing—or more importantly, not do the wrong thing. It wouldn’t be honorable to sleep with her under the circumstances, even though, God help him, he was tempted.

  “All right,” she agreed, sounding a trifle petulant. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Pressing her fingers to her lips, she brushed her hand across his mouth.

  Michael’s entire body reacted to that light touch. Holding himself rigid, he let her walk away, her bathrobe swirling around her. She disappeared into the master bedroom of the suite, closing the door firmly behind her.

  Only then did he let his breath out on a low, unhappy groan. This was no way to spend a wedding night. If she was petulant, he didn’t blame her. Their situation was unnatural, but they’d get used to it in time.

  He still took a long, cold shower that night.

  Two DAYS LATER they flew to New York and rented a car for the drive to Long Island. Leslie was as nervous about this meeting with her predecessor’s mother as she was about her fraudulent marriage. Michael didn’t seem too relaxed about it, either.

  Only Cory bubbled over with excitement as her father drove past one gated mansion after another. “There it is!” she shrieked, pointing. “That’s Grandma’s house!”

  The little girl was the first one out of the car and she practically flew into the arms of the elegant figure waiting at the foot of the front steps. This was no wicked mother-in-law, Leslie realized. This was a woman of iron will who intended to look out for the welfare of her grandchild.

&
nbsp; Climbing reluctantly from the car, Leslie couldn’t even find it in her heart to fault the woman. But now that Michael was married, surely everything would be different.

  She glanced at the tall, handsome man by her side. Slipping her hand beneath his bent elbow, she gave him a tentative smile. He looked down at her with surprise that quickly turned to gratitude.

  “That’s right,” he murmured for her ears only. He patted the hand clutching his jacket sleeve. “She has to believe our marriage is real or we’ll never get away with it.”

  Leslie nodded, just as if it would be hard to pretend she loved this man.

  LESLIE SAT on an Italian-leather sofa with her hands clasped politely in her lap while Cornelia Edwards mixed drinks at the bar. Why the woman had asked to speak to her alone, Leslie could only guess, but she’d try to handle whatever came along.

  “Here you are—vodka and tonic.” Cornelia extended the drink with a hand displaying long, perfect fingernails and dripping with diamonds. She wore a pale gray knit pantsuit that looked like cashmere, and her hair was perfectly frosted and elegantly styled.

  “Thank you.” Leslie took the drink.

  Cornelia sipped her own, a thoughtful expression on her face. “You’re not what I expected when Michael called,” she said at last.

  “Oh? What did you expect?”

  “Certainly not a Lyon! I guess I expected some bimbo willing to jump into a phony marriage to get the wicked grandmother off his back.” She grimaced. “I know, I know, Michael’s not like that. But if a person gets desperate enough...”

  “You needn’t feel desperate,” Leslie said earnestly. “Michael just doesn’t want to leave New Orleans, although he has the highest regard for you.”

  “That’s good to hear.” But Cornelia didn’t sound convinced. “He loved my daughter, you know. Even after she...made mistakes.”

  Leslie’s heart contracted. “I do know.”

  “I’m not sure he loves you.”

  “Neither am I.” The words popped out. Leslie lifted her chin defiantly. “But if I have anything to say about it, he will someday.”