Jewell (A Second Chance Novel Book 2)

by Tina DeSalvo

  She blushed, and forced herself to stand still and not shuffle. She never had been embarrassed for wearing these boots or any of the two dozen others with fun designs she owned, so why now? His tone wasn’t mocking or demeaning. It was just…well, playful. Flirty. Was Elli’s husband flirting with her? Now she was annoyed. "It’s good for dealing with whatever dirt and trash I have to step on,” she said, eyes steady on his.

  "Which apparently is an issue when delivering pizza.” He nodded toward Mimi. “Which you clearly are not doing. You two are not the pizza delivery boys, huh?”

  Mimi shook her head. “We’re not boys. Are you blind?”

  Jewell’s eyes widened but the corner of his lips twitched telling her he was amused by Mimi’s response.

  “No ma’am. I can see just fine.” He smiled at Jewell. It was both friendly and spoke of his virility at the same time. How did he do that? Did he do it on purpose? Jewell suspected he did. But, then again, she wasn’t one-hundred percent sure. Better not think too much on it or she might ask him about it. She needed this job too much to risk not getting it by saying something foolish. Mimi on the other hand, had no agenda. She said and asked whatever popped into her mind whether it made sense or not.

  “What did you do with my cistern?” She asked, talking behind her finger still on her lips.

  He grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “Can’t say.”

  Jewell reached over and gently urged Mimi to lower her hand. She frowned like it was Jewell’s fault that she’d forgotten it was there. Then, Mimi looked at Elli’s husband and gasped. “Is it game day?” She tugged on the hem of his Saints black and gold football team jersey.

  “Yes indeed, ma’am. They’re down by six against the Atlanta Falcons. Fourth quarter.”

  “Mon Dieu,” she wobbled passed him, into the house. The four rubber tips on the bottom of her swan-neck, quad-cane left marks on the waxed wooden floor. Pride had her once refusing to use the cane like she now refused to use the walker which would better suit her mobility level. “They’re playing the dirty birds. I can’t miss the Saints playing the dirty birds.” She disappeared from view, almost giving Jewell heart failure.

  “Mimi. Wait.” She moved past Elli’s husband who was now smiling a big white shiny smile. “I’m sorry. I’ll get her. Excuse me.” God, she’d never be able to convince Elli and Ben that Mimi wouldn’t cause any disruptions with her work, now.

  “Who dat…who dat…” Jewell heard Mimi cheering but already couldn’t see her. “Who dat say dey goin to beat dem Saints.”

  “Down the hall past the stairs to the left,” Jewell heard from behind her, his voice even with a hint of humor. “Game’s on the TV in the parlor.”

  Jewell looked at him over her shoulder. He stood a head taller than her five-feet-eight inches. Despite being frazzled by Mimi’s nervy behavior, she smiled back. “She really loves the Saints,” she managed, knowing her statement was a poor defense of Mimi barging into his home. “She’s been a fan since the first day they were organized. She was actually at the press conference announcing that a franchise team was awarded to New Orleans.” She paused and shook her head, realizing nerves had her about to tell him personal information about why Mimi had actually been there on that day. Relax, Jewell, she reminded herself. Don’t be so upset by what Mimi’s actions might mean to getting this job. “My fault. I should’ve planned better so she could’ve watched the game.”

  “I see. Picking a random house, trespassing so your…” He looked at her a moment, “…grandmother I presume, can watch the Saints play the Falcons—that’s how you remedy your lack of planning?”

  “Trespassing?” Jewell stopped at the foot of the rich walnut stairs with its simple newel-posts. She paused a moment to listen for her grand-mère’s voice. She heard Mimi speaking in a nearby room, telling someone that the Saints were going to beat the dirty birds. Probably Jewell's future client, Elli.

  Not a good start.

  She turned to face Elli’s misinformed husband with the bad attitude. “We’re not trespassing. We may have entered the home uninvited, but we were invited onto the property.” Turning on her heels, she headed off to do damage control.

  “You were invited to deliver the pizza we ordered. Or so I had thought.” His words had her turning to face him again. He was now leaning against the wall opposite the stairs.

  Why was he always leaning on something? He sure seemed fit enough to hold up his own body weight. It was easy to see that he worked out with the way his broad shoulders tapered to his narrow hips and straight long legs. So why was he assuming this “not a care in the world” pose? It didn’t make sense. Jewell’s instincts told her that this award-winning dog trainer actually would be like a cat. He might look calm and easy going, but he’d pounce and devour without a moment’s notice.

  “I’m sorry for the confusion,” she began, feeling her already electrified nerves for the meeting with her potential client amp-up because of this misunderstanding with her husband. “I was invited here by Elli. I’m here to talk to her about a project.” His eyebrows arched. So, he didn’t know about their meeting. Awkward. Everything about their meeting had been awkward. “I’m early,” she said, like that would explain why he didn’t know about the meeting.

  His eyebrows shot up again and she all but heard him say, Really, so that’s why I didn’t know about it? Because you’re early?

  Jewell shrugged, extended her hand. “I’m Jewell Duet, All Things Antique.” She looked over her shoulder toward where Mimi was yelling at the television. “You must be Ben Bienvenu. Elli’s husband?” Mimi’s voice grew louder. Jewell turned, not waiting for him to respond. “Please excuse me. I have to go to my grandmother.”

  She walked into the parlor where the roar of the crowd at the Saints game was blaring over the TV and sportscasters were announcing that the Saints were on the eight-yard line, ready to score.

  Her grand-mère sat on a high back Duncan Phyfe sofa, reupholstered in a powder blue silk. Next to her was a good-looking man sprawled on an early 1980s ugly brown recliner. He wore a Saints football jersey and had a bottle of beer in his hand. A Beagle and a Labrador mix were sitting upright on the floor next to him. They were looking at the TV as intently as Mimi was. Jewell was struck by the complexity of life there with the mix of restored antiques, comfy man’s furniture, hominess and a bit of hospitality.

  The man in the chair saluted her with his beer. “I assume you don’t have the pizzas.”

  “She’s here to see Elli,” the leaner said.

  “Her, too?” he asked, nodding to Mimi.

  “Yes. She’s with me.” Jewell rushed toward him, extending her hand. “I’m Jewell Duet, All Things Antique. I was just telling Ben that I have an appointment with his wife.”

  The man in the recliner grunted. “Knucklehead, there, will never have a wife. Especially, not mine.”

  Jewell swallowed back the frustrated shriek in her throat, looked at him with all the calm and dignity she could muster, then at the man she'd thought was Ben. He was smiling and leaning again. “She’s early.”

  Dear God. This initial meeting with her potential client was not going well. She should’ve waited the extra 23 minutes.

  If Elli would’ve been there, the identity confusion over her and Mimi being the pizza deliverers and the leaner guy being the homeowner would never have happened.

  “Who Dat! Go Saints. Go. Two-yard line. They will get this. Woo-hoo,” Mimi cheered.

  The noisy distraction with Mimi probably couldn’t have been prevented regardless.

  Ben, the smiling-leaner who wasn’t Ben and Mimi narrowed their focus on the television as the New Orleans Saints completed an easy screen pass and scored a touchdown to tie the game. The smiling-leaner, who had left his wall to sit next to Mimi on the nineteenth century sofa, was now giving her a gentle but full-on hug followed by a couple of high-fives. Ben was cheering from his recliner and his dogs were barking to join in the excitement.

  De
spite her nerves, worry and frustration, Jewell started to laugh. The scene did not fit the historic parlor with its old wood and marble, but it felt right and good. Then she remembered that she was an outsider, there by default. Her smile faded. The man that wasn’t Ben extended his hand to Mimi. “I should introduce myself.” Mimi looked at his hand a long moment and Jewell knew she was confused about what to do with it. Her eyes narrowed and she slapped his knuckles. Really hard. The sound echoed in the room, silencing the cheering, laughing and even the barking.

  “Mimi!” Jewell shouted. “I’m so sorry. She gets a little confused sometimes. Please forgive her.”

  Ben started laughing, a full-on belly laugh. “Hell, she did exactly the right thing with this rascal knucklehead,” he said, his Cajun accent heavy. “That was exactly right, Mimi.”

  “I’m not your Mimi.” She told him with all sincerity. “I have one grandchild from one daughter. And you’re not her. She is.” She pointed to Jewell. “Oh, shhh. I can’t hear the announcers.” No one pointed out to her that she was the only one speaking.

  Jewell looked at the men who were both actually smiling. They seemed to be enjoying Mimi’s strange behavior. The smiling-leaning charming man who wasn’t Ben walked over to Jewell with his hand up in the air.

  Really, he was going to high-five her too?

  She awkwardly lifted her hand and slapped it. “Who Dat,” she said with confused and diffused enthusiasm. She felt awkward, uncertain. Not usual things for her. She started to speak in a rambling, un-Jewell-like way. “The extra point is good…yay…They’re up by one…only twenty-seconds left on the clock. If the Falcons can’t run it back on kickoff, they might have time for one Hail Mary pass…could get lucky...odds are against them.”

  “You know football, huh?”

  She motioned toward her grand-mère. “It’s a religion in our home.” She extended her hand to him. “You know who I am. I didn’t get your name?”

  He captured her hand in a firm handshake, then covered it with his other hand in a gentle hold. It was totally inappropriate, flirtatious and challenging. Then he smiled an outrageously charming smile, more disarming than his earlier ones. Jewell knew in an instant that there must be a slew of brokenhearted women all over south Louisiana pining for this man. He seemed to enjoy the sport of flirting. She didn’t like this man. She didn’t want to play his game, nor tug-of-war with her hand to reclaim it, so she just stood there, looking at him with her best professorial look, telling him without words, you’re acting like a naughty schoolboy, and I’m not impressed. He immediately released her hand. So he was charming and astute. That was interesting, and a little unsettling.

  “Beau. Beau Bienvenu,” He said, glancing at Mimi who was telling Ben all of the reasons a Hail Mary pass wouldn’t work with the special team defense the Saints had. “And who is the young lady with the old school Catholic nuns’ disciplinary hand?”

  “My grandmother. Mignon Duet.” Jewell had already explained to Elli that she brought Mimi with her to all of her job sites and guaranteed that she wouldn’t interfere with her performance, so she saw no need to explain it to Beau.

  “That knucklehead is my cousin,” Ben said to Mimi in response to her question about who was the man talking to Jewell.

  “I’m actually the more brilliant knucklehead in this family.” Beau laughed. “He does have the best girl in the state of Louisiana, though. I will concede that. I’d say that’s not too bad for a man who chases dogs all day.”

  “Speaking of his wife,” Jewell began, "I’m early for our appointment…as you already know.” She glanced at Beau as she pulled out her cell phone from her jeans pocket and looked at the time. “It’s about appointment time now.” “Elli’s late,” Beau smiled. “She’s always late.”

  “I’ll call her,” Ben said, looking at the TV and not moving.

  “Shhh,” Mimi fussed looking at Jewell. “Tu parles trop, ma sucrée.”

  “Yes, indeed. Sounds like you were scolded,” Beau laughed.

  “Shhh, Mr. Knucklehead. You talk too much, too.” Mimi told him, repeating in English what she’d said to Jewell.

  Jewell put her finger to her lips and shook her head when he was about to say something to Mimi. He probably wanted to correct her and tell her his name wasn’t actually Mr. Knucklehead. Not a good idea since the Saints had lined up for the kickoff. A run back and field goal would put the game into overtime.

  They all leaned in toward the TV.

  The Saints kicker dropped his arm and rushed toward the football and connected in the most perfectly beautiful kick with the longest hang-time Jewell had ever seen. It dropped in the end zone into the arms of a Falcon receiver. It was not returnable and a fair catch was called. The Falcons had the ball on their own twenty-yard line. You could hear the disappointment in the deflated roar of the Falcon home crowd but not Mimi’s.

  “Who Dat, Who Dat, Who Dat sayin’ dey goin’ to beat dem Saints,” Mimi cheered in English, then turned to speak to Jewell in French. “Not the Dirty Birds. Fifteen seconds left on the clock. You saw that, my girl. I love a victory on the road.” Jewell looked at Beau and Ben, who were staring at them like they were aliens who’d just landed in their living room. They both might be Cajuns with Cajun accents, but they clearly didn’t speak Parisian French.

  “Here we go. Watch for the Hail Mary,” Mimi shouted as the Falcon quarterback dropped back, and three defensive lineman rushed in with the remainder of the Saints defensive players pulling back to cover the Falcon receivers rushing down the field. The quarterback cocked his arm back and released the ball in a long, high arching spiral that dropped into a group of Saints and Falcons players forming a tangle of arms, legs and helmets on the fifteen-yard line. The officials jumped into the shoving, groping heap to figure out who had the ball with just ten seconds left on the game clock.

  “Oh, mon Dieu. I think I need a little white heart pill,” Mimi said to no one in particular.

  “You don’t have little white heart pills, Mimi.” Jewell told her, making sure she was well. “Your heart is healthy and so are you. You’re just excited.” Jewell looked at the TV. “Saints intercepted,” she shouted. “Look, Sam ‘Spiderman’ Brown has the ball.”

  “Saints win, Mrs. Duet,” Beau said, giving her a high-five.

  Mimi picked up a dog magazine on the table and started to fan herself with it. “Mr. Knucklehead, I never doubted it.”

  “Of course you didn’t.”

  The telephone rang and Ben answered it. “Pizza delivery’s here.” Ben told Beau and hiked his thumb at him like a hitchhiker. Beau looked at Jewell and smiled that disarming smile that made her insides swishy. She had no doubt he’d spent many hours mastering that particular smile.

  “Are you sure it’s pizza delivery? It could be another home invasion,” Jewell said.

  Ben rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. It’s Cousin Brad’s boy, T-Brad. I buzzed him through the gates. You get the door, Beau. You’re paying. You lost the bet on the half time score. I’ll call Elli.”

  Jewell sat next to Mimi. She looked tired. The excitement of the game had exhausted her and she had the glassy look in her eyes that she got when her mind drifted off. The dementia had been progressing more this last year. The evenings were the worst. Her doctor had said the confusion in the evening was a common condition referred to as sundowning. When the sun went down, her confusion got worst. This dark room, the strange surroundings and the strange men all added to her current dazed state.

  “Are you feeling well, Mimi?” Jewell asked, finding easy, simple conversation could keep her calm and present.

  “Yes, but I’d like to put my feet up to watch the post-game show. I like when they go inside the locker room and the players take off their shirts. Can you get me the footstool?”

  Jewell looked around the room. “I don’t see one here.” Then she realized it would be the perfect opportunity to leave. She spoke to her in French. “Let’s go back to the camper where you can re
lax in your favorite chair and put your feet up.”

  “It’s in the nook next to the fireplace,” she said continuing to speak French to Jewell. She pointed to the right side of the old marble and wood fireplace centered on the main wall in the parlor. There along the wall, about thirty-six inches high from the floor, was white raised panel wainscoting.

  “Mimi. There’s no nook next to the fireplace.” Jewel glanced at Ben who was sitting on his recliner, leaning forward and petting his dogs. He’d just disconnected his cell phone.

  “Elli said she’ll be here in about fifteen minutes. She ran into cousin Ruby at the grocery store and was delayed. She apologized.”

  “There’s no need to apologize. If anyone should apologize it’s me for rudely arriving early and disturbing your game.” As she spoke to Ben, Mimi stood and slowly walked to the fireplace, barely keeping her balance with her cane. “Mimi?”

  Mimi ran her hand along the side of the wood panel adjacent to the fireplace. A click sounded, loud and heavy. The panel swung open to the left on hidden hinges. Mimi reached inside the open door and pulled out a footstool. The walnut wooden legs were a bit dull with dust, but the detailed embroidered padded top was clean, colorful and unmarred. She closed the door with a snap and carried the footstool to the sofa.

  “Twinnie and I helped Momma embroider this. Isn’t it pretty? Magnolias were Momma’s favorite.” She sat on the sofa, placed the footstool on the floor and put her feet up on it.

  “Mimi?” She murmured, as she glanced at Ben who was staring at them with a bewildered expression on his face. It was nothing compared to the expression on Beau’s face as he stood under the arched opening of the parlor with paper napkins in one hand and two pizza boxes in the other.

  Beau and Ben exchanged a speaking glance. They were cousins and best buds long enough to read each other’s looks without saying a word, a convenient skill learned while playing hide and seek as kids. Sound traveled in the cypress bayous, and a nonverbal exchange kept them in the game longer than the rest of their cousins. It was an instinctive skill they had developed even before Beau had been adopted into the family by Ben’s Uncle Ronald and Aunt Bernice when he was eight years old. They had always seemed more like family than friends even when they first started playing together in kindergarten.