Jewell (A Second Chance Novel Book 2)

by Tina DeSalvo

  Before she could answer, the back door flew open in the mudroom, and Jewell raced in. Her eyes were wide. Her footsteps heavy and clumping. She wore shiny purple, nearly knee-high rubber boots with yellow sunflowers. A rose red, cap-sleeve, form-fitting nightgown fell about five inches above her shapely knees. Her hair was loose, silky wild and uncombed.

  And, she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  Beau leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “Hello, Boots.” He was unhappy for her intrusion, but didn’t mind the view.

  “Oh, thank God,” she said on an exhale rubbing the back of her neck and lifting her shoulders. “Mimi, you can’t just wander off. You have to tell me where you’re going.”

  “Oh, don’t get your thong panty in a twist,” Mignon said waving a hand in dismissal.

  Beau laughed at Mignon’s quick response. The flustered Dr. Jewell Duet shot him a heated look.

  He raised his hands in surrender.

  Jewell plopped into a kitchen chair, placing the flat of her hand over her chest. Beau noticed that she was breathing hard and her large breasts filled out her nightgown quite nicely. He kept his gaze off them, however, remembering her reaction the last time his eyes strayed to where they shouldn’t.

  He also kept his eyes away from where the red fabric clung to her hips. It was best that he didn’t try to confirm if she was indeed wearing a thong as her grandmother insinuated. Instead he focused on her long, straight, mussed hair. He had a sudden urge to run his hand over it to settle all of the strays. She was a mess.

  A damn cute mess.

  “I’m sorry that we barged in on your morning,” she addressed Elli.

  “You should put a bell on her, Boots,” Beau said, seeing the fire and challenge leap into her milk chocolate brown eyes. She didn’t respond, but he heard her disapproval loud and clear.

  Beau reached for the loose papers about Jewell that Ben had left on the table and tucked them into the folder.

  “We’re all awake and getting on with our day, Jewell. Ben already left for the kennel.” Elli smiled. “We like company,” she said as she handed Mignon her cup of coffee.

  “Merci,” she responded, cautiously taking a sip. Suddenly, Jewell stood. Then clearly remembering her state of undress, crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Elli, do you mind if I leave for just a few minutes before returning to get my grand-mère?” She motioned to indicate her manner of dress, not noticing that Beau was watching her.

  “Of course not. Take your time.”

  "Thanks. Enjoy your coffee," she told her grandmother. "I'll be right back." Jewell rushed out of the house.

  “I thought she was dressed just fine,” Beau said, grinning. “Now, Mademoiselle Mignon.” He shifted to face her, deciding he’d better get some answers before the watchdog granddaughter returned. “You said your mother…”

  “I’m glad you liked what she was wearing.” Mignon interrupted, smiling. “I sewed that princess cut nightdress for her. She doesn’t usually like to wear red, but she always wears what I make for her.” She stood, using the table for leverage. “You like what I’m wearing, too?” She swooshed the robe by swaying back and forth. “I’m pretty, huh?”

  “Oh, yes indeed.” Beau nodded. He liked this lady. She might be a con artist, but she was a charming one. He appreciated charming. It took a bit of self-deprecation, confidence, humor and intelligence to pull it off.

  “You should see me in my violet Persian taffeta suit. Now, that is something. I made the same style for the Queen of Rex in 1973 for the Maids’ tea. It was gold silk Dupioni. Magnifique.” She kissed her fingertips in a very French gesture. “Then, I changed the design just a bit to flatter my figure and voilà. I was as good as any Mardi Gras royalty.”

  “So you’re a seamstress?” Elli asked, sitting with a fresh cup of tea in the seat Jewell had vacated.

  “Not a seamstress, sweet girl. The seamstress.” She nodded.

  Beau’s phone rang. He looked at it.

  “Excuse me, ladies.” He stood and answered it right away. “Hi, Dad.” He walked into the parlor. As he exited the room, he heard Mignon tell Elli that she would look good in the powder blue organza A-line gown with the jeweled collar she had stored for years since a debutante refused to pay her after she’d commissioned it.

  “Son.” Just from that one word and the deep solid tone from his dad, he knew there was a problem.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “A client of yours was picked up for DWI an hour ago. Hit and run with a mailbox and a couple of garbage cans.”

  Beau sighed. His dad knew he hated DWI cases. “Who is it?”

  “Stanley Boudreaux.” Not again. The man had more money than Midas with the success of his seafood wholesale and distribution business. He had a sweet, beautiful young wife and five smart, terrific children. Yet, he couldn’t control the beast in him and refused to get treatment. No matter what kind of lawyering he did, or what connections Stanley had, the man was at the end of this dangerous gamble he’d taken with his life. The law was solid with DWI cases and the District Attorney had given Stanley one too many chances already, if you asked Beau.

  “This makes me sick.” Beau ran his hands through his hair. “A different street or just a few minutes later, and he could’ve hit the garbage collectors picking up those trash cans.”

  “He’s asking for you. Refused a Breathalyzer and blood test.”

  “Shit.” He hated this part of his job. He could turn down a new client he didn’t want to represent, but a long-time client who had turned to the bottle two years ago, he couldn’t abandon. Staying loyal to a man who took a chance on him as a young lawyer fresh out of school meant something. “I’ll be there within thirty minutes. I’ve got court this morning anyway.”

  Beau walked back into the kitchen. “Duty calls.”

  “Do you need an assistant?” Mignon asked. “I’m a good assistant. Ask Jewell. And, I can dress as nice as you, too.”

  “Thanks for the offer. This one I have to fly solo on.”

  “That’s what got Jewell in trouble.” She harrumphed. “If I was with her she wouldn’t have gotten into trouble.”

  Oh, hell. Now, she was ready to tell him what he wanted to know when he couldn’t stay to hear it. Maybe Elli could get the scoop. He looked at his cousin’s wife and she looked at him with narrowed eyes and a shake of her head.

  “Innocent until proven guilty,” she told him before turning to Mignon. “Now, tell me some stories about the King of Carnival Rex parade in New Orleans. I’ve only been to parades here in Cane. You must know a lot about New Orleans Mardi Gras history.”

  “I bet you really want to know what the men wear under their king’s dresses.” She winked.

  “I’m out of here.” Beau made a mad dash for the door. He wanted to be out of earshot of that conversation PDQ or he’d never be able to look Mignon in the eyes again.

  “You are naughty, Mignon,” Elli exclaimed.

  “Oh, thank you.”

  Jewell climbed to the top of the dry, splintered wooden steps and reached the upper level of the barn. The steps bowed under her weight and held. She was grateful for that and the fact that there actually were stairs. She had climbed ladders with missing rungs and knotted ropes with frayed fibers to reach stored treasures and junk in countless attics over the years. In all instances, the climb was as thrilling as the ascent to the precipice of a roller coaster.

  The anticipation of what she would find made her heart race, her soul excite. She absolutely loved being in the midst of old, neglected spaces. The older and more neglected, the better. That meant the potential for finding a forgotten piece of the past was greater. She carefully stepped into the vast attic space, turning her head so her headlight shone on a mountain range of canvas-covered items.

  Holding her breath she paused, getting a feel for the space. Shadows wrapped around her, making her feel like she wasn’t alone in a place where she was the only person. Dull, nat
ural light managed to beam through dusty windows. An overhead bulb was black. Useless. Jewell was used to creeping around poorly lit, dirty places.

  This upper level storage area in the Sugar Mill Plantation barn was no different. Memories varied from place to place, but the familiar musty scents of warm humidity and mold mingling with mouse and roach droppings and old dust never did. She never got used to coming across a scurrying mouse or leggy spider or working under a curtain of spider webs, either.

  Spiders, mice and creepy touching shadows were just part of her hunt, her job, her passion. If she had to forge through those uncomfortable obstacles to get to the treasures, to the history, she did it. The reward, the adrenaline rush, the connection with memories that leaped into the modern world was worth the muck and spooks.

  She made a slow circle, itching to get started. “Wow. There’s so much stuff in here.” She smiled, her heart beating faster and happier in anticipation of the work she had to do. This was going to be so much fun, but the reality of her deadline encroached on her excitement. She only had a week to go through it all, catalog it, see what Elli and Ben wanted to keep, sell or get rid of, and then find a little time to research if and where Mimi’s Twinnie ever existed. One week. There was no way to extend the deadline on this job either. Filming started in two weeks. Elli had told her that meant the set construction crew would be there a week before that to build the sets and place the lighting.

  One week and countless treasures to discover.

  “Oh, geez. I need to clone myself,” she whispered, as her headlight caught bright threads of spider webs that hung thicker than the chipped wood-slatted walls in some areas and thinner than lace necklaces in other areas.

  She slipped on the weathered black leather satchel that perfectly fit her iPad over her neck like a heavy necklace. It was a Civil War confederate courier’s bag that she’d bought at an antique shop on Royal Street. She knew the better bargains were to be found away from the touristy French Quarter, but she fell in love with the courier bag the day she spotted it while walking home from high school one winter’s day. It was hanging on one of the wrought iron security bars in the antique shop’s window, looking old, faded and magnificent. She was studying the Civil War battles fought around New Orleans in her Louisiana History honors class, and this bag seemed to bring the accounts of the horror of war and triumphs of victory to life for her. It connected her to the history that totally fascinated her. When she slipped the bag onto her body for the first time, she felt part of something important. During the life of this courier bag, it had carried important war documents and lovers’ letters; she would be forever part of that history.

  She'd integrated herself into the past by being a steward of what was able to survive centuries into the present time. The superficial world of her mother truly wasn’t important, as she had always known it was not. This bag was the proof of it.

  With a contented breath, Jewell rubbed her hand over the smooth, soft leather that lay over her heart. “Time to get to work.”

  ***

  Beau walked into the barn, loosening his silk tie. It was a warm fall day, as most October days in south Louisiana were, but the stale, unmoving air in the barn made this day seem even warmer. Dust motes floated in sunlight streaming in through the door, lifting upward on an air current he didn’t feel. As he walked in, dust swirled over his once clean Ermenegildo Zegna shoes. He shrugged and continued farther into the barn. The hollow sound of a distant TV greeted him.

  Beau walked toward the stairs that led to the upper floor where he assumed Jewell was working. He spotted a broom hanging on a nail next to a couple of crawfish traps. The broom probably hadn’t had a human hand touch it in a decade. Ben was so busy at the kennel—first establishing it and now keeping up with the success he’d made of it—that he didn’t have time to clean out a barn he rarely used.

  Beau stopped when he spotted Mignon sitting in front of an open window on the other side of the barn. She was seated in a wooden rocker. Her feet were elevated on the same footstool that she'd removed from the hidden nook the night before. A TV tray was next to her, with a tall iced water bottle, a bowl of grapes and a roll of paper towels. As he neared her, he first heard and then saw the small TV set up on a stepladder in front of her. Long rabbit ear antennas allowed her to catch, although very snowy, The Ellen DeGeneres Show. The volume was turned up pretty loud, but not as loud as he might have expected for someone her age. The TV was plugged into an extension cord that snaked out of the open window off to God knew where. She looked cozy and happy.

  “Bon matin, again, Mignon. I hope you’re having a good morning,” he said, smiling at her. She turned to look at him: A miner’s type headlight was strapped to the top of her head with an apparatus that reminded him of one of his cousin’s headgear for her braces. The light was turned off.

  “You look good. I didn’t know it was Sunday.”

  “Sunday?” He wasn’t sure he’d ever follow this woman’s train of thought. What did him looking good have to do with Sunday? “I don’t understand what you mean?”

  “You coming from church dressed in your Sunday best? You even have your Jesus shoes on.” She lifted her orthopedic shoes. “These aren’t my Jesus shoes. My Jesus shoes are black.”

  Beau smiled. “No, ma’am. I’m coming from court, but my case was postponed.” And from jail, he thought with a sour feeling in his stomach. At least, he didn’t have to fight to get his client out. Stanley had to stay the mandatory three days in jail for refusing the field sobriety test on his third offense.

  “You in trouble, like my Jewell?” She asked with all sincerity. Suddenly, Beau heard something fall overhead, then the sound of stomping.

  “What did she do that got her in trouble?” The footsteps pounded louder and then, Jewell shouted.

  “Mimi. Mimi. Are you hungry? You want a snack?”

  Beau watched as Jewell half raced and half slipped down the stairs near the back of the barn. Like her grandmother, she had a miner’s headlight on her head. It was turned on.

  “Oh, mon Dieu, you want to break a leg, or neck or something?” Her grandmother responded, and her voice echoed from a speaker attached to the waistband of Jewell’s jeans. On the windowsill he spotted the broadcasting end of a baby monitor. Jewell had heard his conversation with her grandmother and clearly didn’t want her talking about her legal troubles.

  Jewell walked over to them, brushing off dust and spider webs from her royal blue long sleeve T-shirt with her company logo emblazed on the front. Beau looked down and saw she was wearing rubber boots again, only this pair had gray, black and white raccoons and cypress trees on a sky blue background.

  “It’s not Sunday,” Mignon told Jewell.

  “No, he’s probably dressed for work,” she answered, not having the same trouble understanding her grandmother’s conversation. “Why aren’t you at work?” she asked, looking at him.

  “Court case was postponed. Didn’t you hear?” He nodded toward the monitor on the windowsill.

  “I half-heard.” She tilted her head and looked at him sideways. “I also half-heard you on my monitor being a busybody.”

  “Hazards of the job.” He reached over to pull a long strand of spider web from her hair. She shied away at first, but let him remove it without protest; her eyes steady on his. Shy one second, bold the next. As bold as her fragrance. What was this all about, he wondered. And why in the hell did her rich, milk chocolate colored eyes heat his flesh? Elli had said she would be cautious. He better damn well make sure he was, too.

  “Thank you.” She looked away. He still felt her heat.

  Something moved on her head. Where the spider web had been he noticed a spider remained. “Hold still, you still have a spider in there.”

  “Oh, God. I hate spiders.” She raised her shoulders up around her neck and shivered, then leaned forward for him to get it.

  “I wouldn’t have thought you could be arachnophobic in your line of work,” he grinned,
dusting the spider off his hand.

  “Not arachnophobic. Just arachno-disgusted.” She pulled the band from her ponytail and shook out her hair. “You got them all, right?”

  “All but the brown recluse.” Her head jerked up. “Just kidding.” He watched her refasten her long dark ponytail, understanding now why she didn’t let her hair hang free. He liked it loose, though, remembering how it looked when she raced into the kitchen looking for Mignon wearing her thin red nightgown. He was certain he’d like seeing her silky strands skim the soft curve of her derrière when her head was thrown back in passion too.

  “Not funny. I’ve been bitten by a brown recluse.” She rubbed her arms, and then scratched her head.

  “Sorry.” Her Achilles heel. Not that he’d use it against her. If she tried to execute a con against his family, he’d simply use legal means to strong-arm her to leave Cane. “Well. I unexpectedly have the rest of the day off. I thought I’d see what you two were up to.”

  “Jewell is up there and I’m down here with Ellen. I like Ellen. She’s from New Orleans, you know.” Mignon faced the TV. “She sure can dance real good. Like Jewell’s momma.”

  “Mimi,” Jewell interrupted. “Are you drinking your water?”

  Mignon picked up her water bottle and took a long drink. “Happy?” she looked at Jewell and frowned. “Go back to work and let me watch my Ellen dance. Take him with you.” She sighed. “If I could climb all those stairs, I would help y’all.” She looked at Beau. “You have work clothes?”

  “These are my work clothes.” He turned his palms up and shrugged. “I do have my exercise clothes in the car. I usually go to the gym after work.” He looked at Jewell. “You need my help?”

  “No.”

  “That’s a silly question,” Mimi rolled her eyes and told Jewell something in French. “And, I just told her that she gave you an even more ridiculous answer.” Her eyes twinkled. “Especially since she just told me she has enough work upstairs for two weeks instead of one.”