Putty in Her Hands

by Lynn Shurr

  Funny, he’d had plenty of appetite for more than food not too long ago. Patty set the pot on the little table nearest Remy with a loud clunk. She might have been ready to breathe fire before, but now her eyes shot laser beams at Julia.

  “I should have been called first, day or night, to take care of you. What exactly is she doing here?”

  “I asked Jules to sit with me since she’s staying nearby. You need your beauty rest as you often told me when I visited. In other words, help yourself to a bowl of cereal and don’t wake me. I’m still following your orders.”

  “This is entirely different. I mean I understand why you didn’t call your mother. I doubt Melody would drive up here in the middle of the night. She’d have to cancel all those house showings for her real estate business.” Patty moved in close and pinched Remy’s jaw to force his mouth open. He gasped at her ungentle touch. “Good, all still there. Remember I paid for those perfect teeth.”

  Remy rubbed his chin. “How could I forget.”

  “Well then, I’ll take the breakfast dishes downstairs, wash them, and get to work. Time to go.” Julia picked up the tray. “I can see you are in good hands. No need to linger.”

  “Just leave the plates. I’ll take care of them. I am sure you are needed at your blue-collar job.” Patty bustled over to take charge and seize the tray. Behind his grandmother’s back, Remy made a desperate “call me” sign to Julia. If he’d been able to show the panicked whites of his eyes, he would have.

  “Gran, Julia has two college degrees and owns that business.”

  “I’m sure she understands what I mean. Don’t you, Julia?”

  Yep, get away from her grandson, the one she’d tried to sell her on when they’d first met at the bakery. The one Julia thought might be gay. So wrong about that!

  Julia sent Remy a final sympathetic smile. “Get well soon.” She added a finger wave and headed for the steps.

  Miss Patty’s loud assessment followed her down the stairwell. “You don’t need that Italian sexpot when your gran is here to help you. She doesn’t have the decency to wear a bra, and don’t think I didn’t notice. All that bouncy jiggle when she walks. Don’t even think about going running. What was she doing letting you dress like that? Let me help you into a nice pair of pajamas. You must stay in bed.”

  Poor Remy, her lover, her rival, now her business partner, and who knew what else?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  She’d sneak inside, put on a bra, panties, and work clothes, or so Julia thought. Barely beyond the door of Alleman, Marv called, “In the kitchen, Jules. Do you want breakfast? How is Remy?”

  Trapped. Now, she had to put in a brief appearance. She poked her head around the entry. Her uncles dined on omelets overstuffed with ham, cheese, onions, and green peppers. Todd went with all veggies. Marv drank coffee from an elegant, gold-rimmed cup and perused the morning paper. He glanced her way. “Don’t worry, I told your crew you’d gone on an errand of mercy. Come, come, give us a full report.” Marv patted the chair next to him.

  Too aware of Patty’s comment on her jiggling breasts, Julia stiffed her shoulders and crossed the kitchen very sedately. Her uncles averted their eyes from her chest. Todd couldn’t seem to raise his higher than her neck. Marv simply poured a cup of coffee. More comfortable at the table, she accepted the coffee and gave them a report.

  “Huh,” Sal, who had plenty of experience with brawls, said. “Sounds more like he took a beating than fell down the stairs, somebody holding his arms while they hit him in the face and torso.”

  “Yeah, he’d be black and blue all over if he took a tumble,” Sammy agreed.

  “Whatever he did, he probably deserved it.” Todd crunched his whole-wheat toast savagely.

  “What I believe he did was save the Queen, Todd, so shame on you. He wouldn’t admit it, but I think the Broussards got wind of his deal with Jonathan Hartz and weren’t pleased. Anyhow, it’s out of my hands now. Miss Patty showed up to take care of him.” Julia busied herself spreading fig preserves on a biscuit she didn’t really want.

  “Ooooh, poor Remy.” Marv shook a sympathetic head. “I thought I might take him a basket of muffins and a container of chicken soup, but I’m simply not brave enough. Regardless, the word is definitely out.” He showed her the Clarion’s headline. Hartz cuts deal to save the Queen. “No credit given to Remy.”

  “As I said, out of our hands. Let’s finish repairing those cracks on the second floor today.” Julia wiped her fingers on a napkin, rose, and showed the men only her back on the way out of the room to dress for work.

  They labored all morning, paused for a lunch of chicken soup laced with hot sauce originally meant for Remy, and completed their task late in the day. Julia lay back in Alleman’s deep, claw-footed tub and soaked away the sweat after washing her hair with the usual floral shampoo. No word from Remy, and she’d used work to stave off the urge to call him. His grandmother would probably hang up on her. Miss Patty appeared to be a great woman to have on your side and a terror to have against you.

  At this point in the job, they’d pack their equipment in the trucks and steer both plus the motorhome to New Orleans. When the plaster dried, she’d return to supervise the painters and paperhangers. They’d complete the project well before autumn when the heat broke and Mr. Getty planned to return for the festival season. She’d read the Hartz proposal making Remy the supervisor for the renovation of the Bayou Queen, but when they could start, no one knew with the condition he was in currently.

  Around ten, more than ready for sleep after the previous night, Julia relented and made the call he’d begged for behind his grandmother’s back. Remy answered instantly, sounded tired and groggy from his meds, but not hopped up like last evening.

  “I gather the coast is clear.”

  “Yeah. Remember you pointed out my lack of bedrooms. Turned out to be an advantage. Even Patty wouldn’t put me out of my bed in order to stay overnight. She just left. Said she’s too old to sleep on my uncomfortable couches, but will definitely return in the morning to feed me, wash my back, give me a shave. I’m thinking of growing a beard. Just smother me with a pillow, and let me die. I wish they’d left me at the hospital.” Misery, pure misery, sounded in his voice.

  “Have you gotten in touch with your mother? Maybe she’d drive Patty away.”

  “She would. Mom can deal with people in the most steel magnolia kind of way, but I don’t want her to see me until I’ve gone from black and blue to green and yellow. My parents warned me not to move here or get involved with Dad’s side of the family.”

  “And that would have saved you from falling down the stairs?” Julia allowed skepticism to creep into her voice. “I’m not stupid, Remy.”

  “Far, far from stupid. It’s me who lacks brains for getting myself mixed up in all this. I only wanted to keep you out of it. So, my relatives taught me a lesson, and Patty is part of the punishment. I can take my licks if you are okay.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

  “You will be. Are you coming over tonight?” He seemed both sure and quick to change the subject.

  “No, I don’t relish sneaking out of your place at dawn to avoid another run-in with your grandmother. I wouldn’t want my sexpot reputation to get around town.” She couldn’t help the small surge of anger.

  “It will. Nothing can prevent that. It’s how Patty operates when a person falls out of favor. We might as well enjoy the notoriety.”

  “I won’t. Look, we’re cleaning up and going back to New Orleans tomorrow.”

  “Don’t leave! We can start on plans to revive the Queen.”

  “You aren’t up to walking a job site, and what I suggested is in the papers Todd delivered. Study them when you can read again, make notes, and get in touch when you are ready to talk. I have a business to run, and that’s what I’m going to do. See you in a few months, Remy. Take care and don’t fall down any more stairs on my account.”

  Julia disconnected, knowin
g she should have said the words, “I love you, Remy Broussard,” but afraid to admit and commit. Hitting a man in a weakened state with those words made the outcome unpredictable. Considering the drugs he’d swallowed, no telling if he’d recall what she said or did.

  When she returned, would the town have turned against her? She could handle that by immersing herself in the revival of the Queen. But, might Remy feel less passion, less need and desire for her after his grandmother’s incessant onslaught? Better to retreat now, and come back fighting.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  After two weeks, Remy reclaimed his door key and gate remote and shoved his grandmother out the door with his one good arm. Other than leaving him in drug-induced sleep at night, she’d left his side only to keep her weekly coffee klatch with Pammy, which did not last nearly long enough. He thanked Patty for her care and the refrigerator so stuffed with her special dishes he could barely close the door, but made it clear that he did not plan to spend one more morning in bed. Even felons come up for parole, and he intended to claim his. With the swelling around his eyes reduced, he wanted no more than to get to work on the plans for the Queen.

  However, nothing that happened in Chapelle ever stayed in Chapelle. Cajun roots spread out wide as the live oaks to neighboring towns and cities. Mamas called their children working away or vice versa. News, or rather gossip, rode on the wind like the nearly invisible seeds of the Spanish moss. Though he hadn’t left the Black Box in days he imagined word had gotten around about his “fall down the stairs.” Certainly, Patty told her cousin, and informed LeJeune Pommier in addition to anyone else in the bakery of his accident. The most sympathetic would express their wishes for a swift recovery with a sad shake of the head. Miss Lolly and Miss Maxie had already called saying they’d pray for him. Not one of those people believed for a second he’d taken a spill.

  Eventually, the tendrils reached Mandeville and uprooted his mother from her home and business. She arrived in her BMW a half hour after this grandmother’s departure as Remy sat drinking Patty’s strong Cajun coffee and finishing the stack of pancakes she’d prepared before her ouster. Tall, slim, and collected, she still wore her blonde hair long and over her shoulders. Trenchant blue eyes sat in a fair face pampered to resist wrinkles. She surveyed his healing complexion with cool reserve, no tears or gentle hugs from Melody Broussard. With uncomfortable awareness, he realized she resembled most of the women he’d dated. Not Julia though, she was the exception. His mother was capable of warmth, but not when you’d failed to take her advice and gotten yourself into trouble.

  “What have they done to you, Remy?” she asked.

  He shrugged and noted his shoulder barely ached anymore. “All this. Don’t worry. I can still give you grandchildren.”

  “That thought never entered my mind. Besides, Amelia has bestowed the title of grandmother on me twice,” Melody answered as if she found the idea distasteful to a former beauty queen. She eyed him up and down. “When did you start wearing pajamas? When you lived at home, you usually slouched around the house in those saggy, flannel bottoms.”

  No need to inform her he rarely wore even that to bed, a privilege of living alone. “Gran bought them for me when she found out I didn’t own any full sets. Same store where she gets Granddad’s clothes—obviously.” Remy considered his garment, pale blue with darker pinstripes. Another pair, yellow with brown checks, lay in his bureau drawer. “I plan to get dressed shortly.”

  “Finish your breakfast. I’m in no rush.” His mother poured a cup of coffee. “Decaf?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. Granny made it. There’s skim milk in the refrigerator if you want to water it down.”

  She did. “Do you have any yogurt? I only had toast before I set out. How can you find anything in here? It’s so cluttered.” Melody held up two containers, one of rice dressing, the other of shrimp etouffee. “With starchy foods. Do you want me to clean this stuff out?”

  “No, put it in the freezer. Whatever else Patty does, she can cook.”

  “You need fresh fruits and vegetables to heal, lots of vitamin C.” Melody ferreted out a cup of blueberry yogurt and peered at the expiration date. “Only a day overdue. Good enough.”

  The gate buzzer sounded before she could take a seat at Remy’s table. He winced, but not with pain. “Probably Gran trying to regain entrance. She’ll say she forgot something.”

  “I’ll take care of this.”

  His mother would without a doubt. She slapped the yogurt container on the table and marched down the stairs to do battle, but returned only minutes later with a large fruit basket, heavy on the citrus. Melody breached the little white envelope without being invited. “Evidently, Celine and Jon Hartz believe in vitamin C too. They wish you a speedy recovery and a quick return to work on the Bayou Queen.”

  “You know, Mom, the swelling around my eyes has gone down. I am perfectly capable of reading for myself.”

  “Frankly, I wanted to see if this came from the Italian sexpot out to seduce you into marriage—some say.”

  Remy covered his bruised face with his hands, but didn’t press very hard. Finally, he met his mother’s eyes. “You should realize by now Granny started that rumor. She liked Julia well enough until she caught her taking care of me the night I was injured, trespassing on her right to smother me with affection. Jules runs Regal Restorations and led the charge to save the Queen. We were at odds until I made the deal with Hartz.”

  His mother had a real talent for arching her lips in a wry smile and raising her perfectly shaped brows to show skepticism. “You mean she hasn’t seduced you?”

  “More the other way around, or maybe she simply allowed me to make love to her. Jules has a mind of her own. Are you upset by that? Gran was.”

  Melody lapped up a spoonful of yogurt and rolled it on her tongue before answering. “Believe it or not, I am aware you sleep with women. Yes, I did check her out. That’s what Google intends. From what I’ve read, Julia Rossi might be a good match for you. The work her firm does is displayed in all the architectural and preservation magazines. In fact, she’s restored the homes of some of my friends. Louisiana Life showed a very fetching picture of her in plasterer’s garb, trowel in hand. It was rather cute.”

  “Don’t let Julia hear you say that. She rarely takes compliments well unless it regards her work. Doesn’t matter. You won’t run into her. She returned to New Orleans after her confrontation with Gran.”

  “Pity, but shows she has the good sense to get as far from that woman as possible.”

  “I think I’m the one who ran Julia off. That night I came on as very needy and not much better the following night. What woman wants a man who begs her to stay like a love-stricken teen? Weak, I showed myself as weak.” Feeling the need for energy after that confession, Remy broke an orange free of the basket’s shrink wrap and peeled it by driving his thumbnail under its thick skin. The first section he freed tasted sour after eating pancakes with syrup. That suited his mood.

  “She is returning to work on the Queen, right? You’ll have another chance with her.”

  Remy shook his head. “I haven’t heard from her since she left.”

  “Did you try calling her?’

  “My phone vanished while Gran reigned. She declared I need peace and quiet. After a while, I thought calling her again would be weak, like I said. Besides, she hasn’t bothered with me since she left. However, I plan to impress her with my thoughtful notes on her proposal for the Queen and my perfectly compatible kitchen addition.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be astounded—and give you another chance if she has the sense I gave her credit for. Now, get dressed and walk up and down your driveway. Exercise will aid in erasing those bruises. No bones were broken, I take it?”

  His mother did an excellent job of not revealing overwhelming concern, unlike his grandmother who had moaned constantly, “Oh, my handsome boy will never be the same again.” Remy knew what his mother really asked.

&
nbsp; “Only a few ribs. The doctor told me I’d look pretty much the same as before. My facial bones are intact, no separation of the retina. I have my sight and can get to work. Frankly, I think Slick pulled his punches.” He’d let the truth slip, but could see that she’d already known.

  “Exercise. I’ll clean the dishes. I plan to stay exactly seven days, brought a sleeping bag along, as I remember how you live. I’ll make sure you get good nutrition, and are on the road to full recovery before I leave. You won’t have to lock me out.” Melody Broussard made it clear she did not coddle her children.

  Remy moved to find his running clothes hidden away by his grandmother, but paused to say, “Thanks for coming.”

  “Some people are too proud to ask for help.”

  “Not me. I begged Julia for it, and now I feel like an idiot.”

  “Don’t. Men can’t be macho all the time, nor should they be.” She put the syrup away, stowed the butter, and ran water to hand wash the small stack of dishes.

  Remembering how his grandmother thought, Remy found his running clothes beneath the yellow and brown checked pajamas he would never wear again. Maybe Goodwill could use them. He dressed and put on the athletic shoes with the most support to minimize the ache in his ribs. A few trips up and down the long drive should do the trick at this point in his convalescence.

  The fledgling live oaks gave little shade, but the jackhammer heat of the afternoon wouldn’t arrive until after noon. Dew still lay heavy on the grass, and the air smelled mildly of the horses in the neighboring field and their droppings. Good country air Old Broussard would call that. He couldn’t breathe deep yet, but the sheer movement of walking helped improve his mood—until his second time around—he saw NuNu leaning on the fence and flicking the ash of his cigarette on Remy’s property.