Shadows of Home: A Woman with Questions. A Man with Secrets. A Bayou without Mercy

by Deborah Epperson

  “Maybe he just wants a little time to himself.”

  “I could buy that if that was the only weird thing going on, but it’s not.” She took a sip of juice. “He turns down most of the guide jobs offered him and he won’t accept any rent money from me. Yet, he still has money to pay the bills. Where’s the money coming from?”

  “So now you’re accusing him of growing and selling marijuana?” He threw down his napkin and stood. “Have you lost your damn mind?”

  Elita pushed to her feet, crossed her arms. “We don’t have millions of dollars in the bank like you Suttons. We can’t take off work anytime we please. If we don’t work, we don’t eat.”

  “Don’t try to turn this around on me.” Royce shook his finger at her. “You’re the one saying Matt is dealing drugs.”

  “Dammit! That’s not what I’m saying.”

  He lifted a brow. “Isn’t it?”

  She pushed her hair behind her ears, walked over to the balcony railing. “I admit it does sound a little wacky, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” He walked over to stand beside her. “How could you think that about Matt of all people?”

  Elita shrugged. Maybe she was going crazy. If she could think her daddy committed suicide and believe her uncle could grow and sell marijuana, then maybe she was losing her mind. No, it wasn’t her mind, it was her faith. Faith in her family and faith in everything that made up who she was as a woman and a Dupree.

  Royce put his hands on her shoulders. “You’re tense. How about a backrub?”

  She forced a smile, gave a slight nod.

  He kissed her lightly and began massaging her neck and shoulders. “Swear to me you won’t go to Tadpole Island again. It’s not safe.”

  “I swear.” That would be an easy promise to keep. If the man in the shadows wasn’t Matt, then going back could be dangerous. And she sure didn’t want to risk running into her uncle. It’d be embarrassing for him and disheartening for her.

  “I know Matt’s actions seem a bit strange. But I’d bet whatever he’s got going on is innocent enough.” Royce kissed her cheek. “Trust me on this.”

  She nodded, but decided to keep the rest of her suspicions to herself. She wouldn’t tell Royce that Matt installed a private phone line in his cabin and ordered new boat catalogs. And what about his expensive new watch? He claimed a satisfied client gave it to him, but Elita didn’t buy his explanation. What kind of client gives a Rolex watch as a tip?

  CHAPTER 14

  During the first part of June, Elita pushed unanswered questions about her father’s death and her uncle’s peculiar activities to the back burner of her mind. Only thoughts of Royce and their time together simmered in her head.

  For his part, Royce had turned the business trips over to Cliff. He wanted to stay close to the Caddo, close to Elita. The one time he went to Dallas, she went with him. While he attended a business meeting, she searched for the perfect dress to wear to his upcoming birthday party.

  Dorothea vetoed Royce’s plan for a simple family barbeque and insisted she be the one to plan her eldest son’s twenty-fifth birthday party. Under her watchful eye, the festivity ballooned into the social event of the season. Two hundred of Texas and Louisiana’s richest and finest families gathered in the grand ballroom of the Belle River Inn, an antebellum plantation that had been renovated into a luxury hotel and event center.

  The golden glow of the Belle River Inn’s crystal chandeliers washed over the ballroom. Royce and Elita swirled around the dance floor, lost for the moment in each other’s arms. He pulled her close. She laid her head on his shoulder and made a silent wish that the night could last forever.

  “Did I tell you you’re beautiful?” Royce asked as the song ended.

  She smiled up at him. “About a dozen times if anyone’s counting.” And she was.

  He grinned. “Want something to drink?”

  “A ginger ale, please.”

  “No more champagne?”

  “I’ll wait until we get home.” In a honeyed whisper, she added, “then I’ll show you a night worth toasting.”

  His hand went to the small of her back. He pressed her to him. “Let’s go home now.”

  “You can’t leave this early. You’re the guest of honor.”

  “I want you now.” The gleam in his blue eyes signaled his rising desire.

  Elita swallowed hard in an effort to control the heat sparking her own blood. “Simmer down. Your patience will be rewarded.” She straightened his tie. “Now go get us those drinks.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that promise.” He glanced over at the bar. “Looks like there’s a line. It might take me a few minutes.”

  “I’ll wait for you on the patio.”

  “I won’t be long.”

  Elita watched him make his way through the crowd. A handshake here, a pat on the back there, a nod of the head or that easy smile of his that melted her insides. Looking elegant in a black tuxedo, he was as much at home in this magnificent setting as he was wearing jeans and sharing a beer and a platter of boiled crawfish with the men who worked his oilrigs. She’d known men who were comfortable in the blue-collar world and others who flourished in the arena of the rich and powerful, but she’d yet to meet any man but Royce who could navigate both worlds with equal skill and finesse. Yes, she concluded, Royce Sutton was quite a man, a fact not lost on the bevy of beautiful young women Dorothea had invited to the gala.

  They were prestigious young women from families loaded with money or power or both—women Dorothea deemed worthy as a potential mate for her eldest son. They were not a fisherman’s daughter born and raised on the bayous of Caddo Lake.

  A willowy redhead and a former Miss Texas blond managed to corner Royce at the end of the bar. He looked up, caught Elita’s eye, and lifted his brows, which she took as his plea for her to rescue him. She laughed, shook her head, strolled out onto the patio and bumped into Dorothea.

  Elita took a step back. “Congratulations on a lovely party, Mrs. Sutton.”

  “Where’s Royce?” she demanded.

  “He’s getting us some drinks.” Elita pointed at the bar. “Excuse me.” She sidestepped Royce’s mother and sat down at a table near the edge of the patio.

  Dorothea followed.

  “Would you like to sit down?” Elita had decided that for Royce’s sake, she’d try to avoid any confrontation with his mother. Failing that, she’d take the high road.

  “I’d like you to remember Royce has other guests to attend to besides you.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You’re monopolizing all of Royce’s time. Every time I want to introduce him to someone, he’s on the dance floor with you.”

  “We’ve had four dances in three hours.”

  Dorothea grabbed the back of a wrought iron patio chair. “You’re missing the point. Royce needs to circulate more, and he can’t do that with you hanging on him like some—”

  “Careful, Mother.” Cliff walked over to Elita, placed his hand on her shoulder. “You’re talking to a good friend of mine.”

  Dorothea scowled. “The Texas lieutenant governor is here. I’d like for your brother to meet him.”

  “You’d like for Royce to meet his daughter. Trust me. She’s not his type.” Cliff pulled out a chair and sat down beside Elita. “Hell, she’s not even my type, and my standards are a lot lower than his.”

  Elita put her hand over her mouth in an unsuccessful effort to stifle a giggle.

  Dorothea glared at her. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

  “Don’t start anything, Mother.”

  “Shut up, Clifford. This is between me and her.”

  The muscles in the back of Elita’s neck tightened and she reminded herself of her earlier pledge to remain courteous. She would not let Dorothea manipulate her into a fight that would end up ruining Royce’s birthday.

  Dorothea folded her arms across her chest. “You think you have Royce wrapped around your little finger, don�
�t you?”

  Elita rose slowly, blew out a deep breath. “I think . . . I think the Mercedes you gave Royce for his birthday is a beautiful car.”

  Dorothea stomped her foot. “We weren’t talking about cars, dammit.”

  Cliff stood. “Mother, Royce is headed this way. I’d suggest you end this conversation and go see to your guests because big brother won’t be as polite as Elita is trying to be.”

  As her eldest son weaved a path toward them, Dorothea shot Elita a damning look. “I suppose Royce told you he now has control over the trust fund his grandfather set up for him.”

  “I don’t care about his money.”

  “You don’t care about twenty million dollars?” Dorothea’s voice dripped with cynicism.

  “He can give every penny away for all I care.”

  Cliff raised his glass. “Big brother can give it to me.”

  Royce joined them. “I can give you what?”

  “Your trust fund. Your new Mercedes.” Cliff slipped an arm around Elita’s shoulders. “Your gal. I’ll take it all.”

  “I bet you would.” Royce handed Elita her drink. “What’s going on here, Mother?”

  “Elita was saying how much she likes the Mercedes I bought you. Everyone says it was the best surprise of the evening. Don’t you agree, Royce?”

  “It was definitely a surprise.”

  “That reminds me, the car title is in my name. We’ll have to get it changed.” Dorothea brushed a piece of lint off Royce’s shoulder. “You’re not being a very good host. You’ve yet to thank the lieutenant governor and his family for coming to your party.”

  Royce looked at Elita. “Is that what you two were discussing?”

  Elita nodded and sat back down. Dorothea had told the truth, just not the complete truth, but that was vintage Dorothea.

  “Come on, Royce,” his mother said. “I’ll introduce you.”

  “I’ll be in after Elita and I finish our drinks.” He pulled out a chair and sat.

  Dorothea shook her finger at him. “See here, young man, you need—”

  “I need to finish my drink.” Royce’s eyes turned hard. “I’ll be in later.”

  A hush fell over the group. Dorothea played with her pearls. Elita kept her eyes focused on her drink.

  “Come on, Mother. You can introduce me to the lieutenant governor.” Cliff offered her his arm. “I’ll show him who has all the charm in the Sutton family.” He winked at Elita.

  Dorothea linked her arm in his, threw Elita a last angry look. “Don’t be long, Royce.” They headed back inside.

  Elita sucked in a cleansing breath, blew it out. “You were kind of short with your mother, weren’t you?”

  “That depends.” His eyes narrowed. “What did she really say to you?”

  “She told you.”

  “Damn, Elita. I know my mother. She couldn’t pass up a chance to rip into you if her life depended on it.” He reached for her hand. “Tell me what she said.”

  “She thinks I’m monopolizing your time. You should be mingling with your guests.” Elita laced her fingers in his. “She’s right.”

  “Like hell she is. I agreed to a backyard barbeque. This shindig is her baby.”

  “But you are the guest of honor.”

  “And as such, I should be able to spend my time the way I please.”

  She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You know it doesn’t work that way.”

  His hand curved around the back of her head, preventing her from pulling away. He kissed her. Soft at first, but with a growing hunger as her hand slid inside his jacket. “Let’s leave and go back to my place.”

  “I have a better idea.”

  “What’s that?” His mouth moved to her neck, his hand slipped under the table.

  Heat stirred her blood as his hand moved up her thigh. Through the rising fog of lust, she heard the sound of laughter. She managed to push Royce away just as a young couple strolled out the French doors leading to the patio.

  Arms linked around each other’s waist, the couple didn’t notice Royce and Elita. They headed straight for the lush grounds with its tall hedges and oversized shrubbery.

  “They have the right idea.” Royce nuzzled her ear. “Let’s go in the bushes and—”

  “I’m going to the house.” Elita pulled away from him and stood.

  “That’s a better idea” He rose. “Let’s go.”

  “I’m going. You’re staying.”

  He drew back. “What the hell?”

  “It’s getting late. The party should be over in about an hour, right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  She put her finger over his lips to silence him. “That will give me enough time to get to your place and arrange my birthday surprise for you.”

  “Birthday surprise?” His hands wrapped around her waist. “I like the sound of that.”

  “I thought you would.” She nudged her body closer to his. “I didn’t bring your present to the party. It’s not something you’d want to unwrap in public.”

  His hand went up her back to toy with the zipper on her dress. “I can think of something I’d like to unwrap right now.”

  “Down, boy.” Her hands glided over the satin lapels of his tuxedo. “You’ll get your chance, but first you must play the role of gracious host.”

  He moaned.

  “You’ll survive.” She kissed him. “Keys, please.”

  He pulled keys out of his pocket, dropped them into her open hand.

  “These are the keys to the Mercedes. I need the keys to the Jeep.”

  “I want you to take the car.”

  “No, Royce. It’s your birthday present. You should be the first to drive it.”

  He folded his hand over hers. “A beautiful woman deserves a beautiful car.”

  “Your mother will be furious if she finds out.”

  “She’ll get over it.” He slipped his arm around her waist. “I’ll walk you to the car.”

  “Royce, will you come on?” Cliff stood at the French doors, his usual grin replaced with a look of pure frustration. “Mother is going to have a nervous breakdown if you don’t come meet the damn lieutenant governor.”

  “I’ll be in after I walk Elita to the car.”

  “I can manage without an escort. Go on with Cliff.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, silly. It’s parked right in front of the main door. I can’t miss it.”

  “Drive carefully.” He kissed her then joined his brother.

  “Don’t worry, Royce, I’ll take good care of your fancy new car.”

  He pointed at her. “Just make damn sure my present is ready when I get home.”

  She gave him a salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  * * *

  The valet opened the driver’s door for Elita.

  “Thanks.” She handed him a generous tip.

  “Thank you, Miss. Have a pleasant evening.”

  “I plan to.” It would be a very pleasant evening when Royce got home and discovered her surprise—a candy-apple red negligee that left just enough to the imagination. And that would be just the beginning of the amorous activities she’d planned. Last month, he’d arranged that sexy weekend in the fancy Shreveport hotel. Tonight, she’d show him what delights her imagination could conjure up. He wouldn’t be disappointed.

  Elita took one last look at the beautiful Belle River Inn. She’d approached the evening with a feeling of dread pitted in her stomach, but it’d turned out to be a wonderful night despite the brief unpleasantness with Royce’s mother. She felt pride in the way she’d stayed poised and polite in the face of Dorothea’s pettiness. Elita Pearl Dupree had definitely grown up.

  She slid onto the soft leather seat, breathed in the new car smell, and started the engine. It purred like a tomcat locked in a harem of felines. Elita let the motor idle as her eyes scanned the interior. Wood grain trim, rich leather upholstery in a warm doeskin brown, and more knobs and buttons than she’d ever seen in
an automobile. She shifted into drive and had started to pull out of the driveway when she saw Royce’s mother standing at the picture window in the hotel foyer.

  Dorothea’s face contorted with anger.

  Elita flashed an exaggerated triumphant grin, waved to her, and punched the gas. Maybe she wasn’t quite so grown up after all.

  * * *

  Dorothea watched with mixed emotions as the taillights of the Mercedes faded into the darkness. With Elita gone, she’d have full access to her eldest son. There were several young women, two beauties in particular, she wanted Royce to meet. Women hand-selected by her. Women with the breeding and social standing needed to make them suitable companions for her first-born.

  At the same time, it galled her to know Elita had driven off in her present to Royce. She’d looked long and hard and paid a ridiculous price for the perfect gift. But her diligence was worth it if it got him out of that damn Jeep. As the future president of Sutton Oil, he needed a vehicle that reflected his standing in the community.

  For weeks, she’d imagined Royce making a grand exit from this glorious gala in that splendid car, a suitable young lady in the passenger seat. He’d be so grateful to his mother for the party, the car, and for the introduction to a woman worthy of his attention.

  Now when Royce left, he’d be driving that old Jeep again. He’d go straight home where Elita would be waiting for him, eager to service his most carnal needs. The thought of her son spewing prime Sutton seed inside that swamp-bred bitch made her stomach spasm.

  “Damn bayou whore,” she muttered.

  “Did you say something, Mrs. Sutton?”

  Dorothea turned to find the hotel manager standing behind her. “What?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch what you said. Is there some way I can be of service.”

  “I’m afraid not, Mr. Talbert.”

  “It’s Talbot, ma’am.”

  “Talbot, of course.” She placed her hand on her forehead. “I’m usually good with names.”