Putty in Her Hands

by Lynn Shurr

  “The beating, you mean. I want to go with you, Remy.”

  “To protect me? Ha! Not a good idea. You’ll only put yourself in jeopardy.”

  “I want to talk to him personally.”

  “No, just no.”

  Telling Julia no put the damper on the rest of evening as sure as the fire hoses doused the flames and soaked the embers. They stayed until the firemen stowed their equipment and prepared to leave after receiving sincere thanks for their quick action. Sal and Sammy returned in the meantime, shamed-faced at being slightly shit-faced in a bar when the crime occurred.

  “One of us should stay here every night. We’ll take turns going out for a little R & R from now on,” Sammy offered.

  Not a big fan of the firefighting efforts, Sal shook his head. “We’re gonna have to redo all the patches on that side of the building. The plaster wasn’t cured enough stand up to that blast of water. Get lucky on the weather, then this crap happens.”

  “All jobs have setbacks. We’ll get to it again on Monday,” Julia consoled her uncles. “Time for us all to get some sleep.”

  She really meant sleep, Remy figured, and nothing else.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Used to early rising, Julia slipped from bed before Remy woke. Tempted as she was to stay under the newly cleaned black satin spread and arouse him by running her fingers through his thick hair and smoothing his short beard, she let him sleep. Business before pleasure, a phrase that reminded her of Todd unjustly exiled in New Orleans, not that he wouldn’t learn a bunch from her plaster artisans. Maybe he’d hook up with one of Sammy’s daughters, a couple of whom—unbeknownst to their father while he stayed on the job sites—appeared to have inherited her uncle’s sex drive.

  Julia sliced the remains of last night’s loaf to dip in an egg-cinnamon-vanilla mixture and prepared the rest of the berries, some of them crushed in the bottom of the picnic basket, for a fancy breakfast of French toast. She tossed the wineglass broken across the stem and prepared a pot of strong coffee. Taking an unearthed chocolate truffle and a cup of brew out to the kitchen level balcony, she placed a call to Jane Tauzin.

  “Sorry to disturb you so early on a Sunday,” Julia said, though from the sounds of roughhousing in the background, all the Tauzins were wide awake.

  “I have two young boys in the house all revved up about going to an air show out of town this afternoon, though heaven knows we’ll be able to fry eggs on the tarmac. They’ve been up since six. Merlin likes to do something special with them when he’s onshore for the weekend. But I’m glad you called. I was going to save the news until Monday figuring you and Remy have more romantic Sundays than us. Once you have kids…”

  “Jane, what’s the news,” Jules said.

  “A grant came through for the restoration of the chandeliers and the replacement of the other two. I’m not sure what we’ll do about the legendary centerpiece that hung in the lobby.”

  “Yes, when we were still speaking, Patty mentioned it often. Likely, it’s been broken up to make smaller pieces. My thoughts are we replicate a large version of the ones in the ballroom—but we don’t need to worry about that immediately. I wanted to ask if you know who owns the land where the Indian mounds sit.”

  “Not offhand. The we-won’t-sell-an-acre-of-cane-land Patins probably. They farm most of that area.”

  “Could you check Monday morning at the clerk of courts office and get a copy of the plat to make sure?”

  “Hey, you saved the Queen. I’ll be at their door when the office opens. Should be pretty easy. Everyone is familiar with that area. Can I ask why you need the information?”

  “I’ll tell you when we have the answer. Have a great day at the air show.”

  “Ha! I’ll be sitting in the shade with a cold drink while the boys, all three of them, crawl through stifling static displays. Enjoy your day too. Bye.”

  “Who were you talking to so early?” Dressed in the hideous yellow and brown checked pajama bottoms, Remy stood in the doorway and still looked tempting with his chest bared and that patch of dark hair between his tanned pecs. He cast a glance at NuNu’s shabby trailer before he stepped outside barefoot. “I’m glad we put up those bamboo blinds on either side of the top balcony.

  “Yes, no sense giving NuNu or Mr. Getty a thrill. Jane had some great news she couldn’t keep to herself. She found a grant to restore and replicate the ballroom chandeliers.” Julia offered him a disarming smile along with her little white lie.

  “That is something, a drop in the bucket against the cost of this project, but every bit helps. Is there coffee?” Remy looked like he needed it after tossing in his sleep all night, maybe reliving his beating or the first conflagration, Julia couldn’t be sure.

  “Freshly brewed. We might consider the fire last night another savings. No need to pay for dump trucks or the tippage fee at the landfill.”

  “I guess we could look at it that way instead of considering it another attempt to sabotage the project. Got any ideas for breakfast? Should I make a beignet run?”

  “No, I have french toast with crushed strawberries ready to go. From what you’ve told me, your mother would approve of the use of fruit instead of syrup.”

  “She would. She’d approve of you too. We should go down to Mandeville one Sunday and have dinner with my parents.”

  That suggestion—not high on Julia’s list of what to do on the weekend. “Did they hear about the scene I created at the bakery?”

  “Yes. When I called to tell them you’d moved in with me, my mom said, ‘Good, I wish I’d smashed something in Patty’s face years ago.’ Mom has her sources in Chapelle. You’d get along.”

  “Probably,” Julia said with some caution. “Let me get the french toast started.”

  While she heated the griddle, Remy trekked to the end of the lane to get the Sunday paper, which he threw on the table in disgust upon return. “Not worth the walk. Look at that headline, Fire at the Bayou Queen. I didn’t see anyone from the press out there. Someone wrote it up from the crime report. At least, we know it wasn’t Jayden.”

  Julia sifted a little powdered sugar over the slices of toast and topped them with the strawberries. She set the dish in front of him with a flourish. “See, I can cook, but rarely have the time.”

  “You run a business. I understand. From that headline, you’d think the building caught fire. Just trying to get more sales.” His dark eyes scanned to the end of the article. “Naturally, whoever wrote this mentions the previous arson and our conflict over the building.”

  “That’s what journalists do. A burning trash pile isn’t big news. They need to fill the space.”

  Julia poured more coffee and studied Remy over the rim of her cup as she sipped. He’d complained this project made his hair turn gray. She did notice a few strands of silver that hadn’t been there before taking up with her. He needed some relaxation. He needed his own dreams to come true, not only hers. “Why don’t we take the boat out on the bayou today and forget about all this for an afternoon?” she suggested.

  “Good idea. I know a place upstream where we can dock, step ashore, and have Sunday dinner. One day, people will do that at the Queen.”

  “Yes, they will,” she said with certitude. One day, Black Diamonds would be built too.

  They passed a perfect day making love in the afternoon after they returned from boating and bayou-side dining. Julia wanted to prove to Remy she didn’t miss Todd all that much, though in a way she did. Not many were as enthusiastic about plasterwork as her intern. But she made such a wonderful job of convincing Remy, neither wanted to get out of bed to cook anything for supper. However, Sundays in Chapelle meant the restaurants served the church crowd at noon and shut at two, unless you wanted Chinese buffet. She and Remy settled on firing up the grill to make burgers with a side of baked beans from a can jazzed up with mustard, ketchup, onions, and brown sugar. Wine and watching the sunset rounded out their day

  They returned refreshed to
the job on Monday, a bit later than usual, as they’d again found it hard to leave their bed. The damage done to the exterior plaster patches on the fire-side of the wall was already repaired.

  “We worked Sunday. Our fault someone snuck in here and made trouble again,” Sal said.

  “Yeah, we’ll move inside now and take up the crack repair where Todd left off. When the weather improves this fall, we can bring in the big crew to do the exterior.”

  Julia gave both unbusinesslike hugs. “That’s why I love you guys. You are the best.”

  A chattering that did not belong to quarreling squirrels in the oak trees made her turn. Miss Lolly and Miss Maxie were tottering up the rough path to the hotel. “Quick, go grab their arms before their ankles snap like matchsticks. Whatever are they doing here?”

  Sal and Sammy hurried to provide a gentlemanly arm for the old ladies and steered them to Julia. Miss Lolly offered their explanation. “We saw in the Sunday paper about the fire, but not a single picture to show us how bad it really was.”

  “We came here right after early Mass. Prayed for you and the hotel, of course.” Miss Maxie added. “Where’s the damage?”

  “Only a pile of ash where the trash pile sat. No harm done. Would you like my uncles to show you to your car?’ Julia hinted.

  “Oh my, I suppose we’re in the way. We should be wearing those.” Lolly tapped Sal’s hardhat.

  “Not really. We’re just getting started for the day.” Julia noticed the disappointment on the faces of the old women. “Sam, would you get the ladies some hardhats, and I’ll give them a brief tour to show what progress we’ve made.”

  Sammy crowned both with bright yellow hardhats, lowering them carefully onto their fragile skulls and thin hair. “There you go.”

  Miss Lolly fished in her purse for the phone she’d gotten from Julia. “Do you think it takes pictures?”

  “Probably, most do.”

  “Would you?” Lolly handed the phone to Sal and latched onto Julia’s arm. Maxie got on her other side. Both rolled back smiles so wide, they exposed the tops of their dentures. Sal showed them the results, and they twittered like the sparrows in the trees with excitement. “Now for our tour.”

  His phone also in hand, Remy appeared around a corner. “We’re giving tours now? A little early for that. Maybe we should set up a lemonade stand and sell hot link sandwiches out by the road too.”

  “That would make a wonderful fundraiser for the Queen,” Maxie said. “We’ll talk to some of our groups about it.”

  Remy held up his hands in surrender. “Only joking. Not much to see yet, but we are moving along. If the accidents stop happening.”

  “Did you set up that appointment with the Broussards?” Julia should have known better.

  “I did for ten tomorrow at the Barn. Once we’ve had it out, these incidents should stop.”

  “Trouble with the Broussards? You must take me along to speak with Arnoult. I understand him,” Miss Lolly claimed.

  “Who’s Arnoult?”

  “Why, your great-uncle, Remy. Of course, he’s been known as T-Fats most of his life, and now they call him Old Broussard, though he’s much younger than Maxie and I. I taught him in third grade. The other children teased him unmercifully about his weight.”

  “I think it’s a genetic condition that comes down in that line of the family.” Miss Maxie ogled Remy’s slim torso. “You should be glad you take after the Remingtons in all but the hair, eyes, and skin tone.”

  “You see, despite my best efforts to prevent it, Arnoult was bullied and at recess often hid behind my skirts. Poor boy. But sometimes, those who are bullied become bullies. He inherited the Barn and all the power that goes with it.” Miss Lolly sighed as if she’d failed her student personally. “However, I do believe he is fond of me. I can help you get on his good side.”

  “The Barn is a rough place. I really don’t think…”

  “You don’t believe I danced out there in my youthful days, Remy Broussard. Well, we did, didn’t we, Maxie?”

  “Yes, we cut quite a rug.”

  “I am sure you were a sight, but…”

  The area bustled now with the arrival of the carpenters framing the new walls on the third and fourth floors to make space for bathrooms. Right behind them marched Jane Tauzin flapping some papers in her hand.

  “Remy, would you give these ladies a little tour since I need to speak with Jane? They’ve been our most stalwart supporters,” Julia asked.

  “I should be upstairs…”

  “Oh, we’d love to go upstairs.” The elderly twosome headed in the direction of the front entry. Remy took two long strides and caught up. With no choice left, he offered them his arms.

  “You are so lucky to have a high metabolism the way your granny tried to stuff you with pastries as a child, and such a handsome and charming child you were too,” Miss Maxie observed.”

  “Still is charming and handsome.” Miss Lolly pinched Remy’s cheek as they pushed forward like turtles toward a head of lettuce. They crept around the bend, out of sight and hopefully out of hearing as Jane dashed up to Jules.

  “You won’t believe this! The Broussards own that piece of land. The Patins only farm it.” Despite her enthusiasm for her discovery, Jane paused. “Why does it matter?”

  Julia took the plat and the rest of the documentation. “I’ll tell you after we meet with Remy’s family tomorrow.”

  “You’re going out to the Barn with him? Isn’t that dangerous considering what they did to him?” Jane’s nature-green eyes widened.

  “I’m not supposed to be there, but I will be—along with Miss Lolly. She thinks she can make a difference. With these papers, I know I can.”

  Jane’s cheeks reddened with excitement, or perhaps the early morning heat. “Please take me with you. If I can get someone to watch the boys, I’ll bring my husband. No one messes with him, and he’s in tight with the Broussards, or was once.”

  “We’re getting quite a crowd already.”

  “The more witnesses the better. They can’t kill us all.”

  “Jane, too much drama. No one is going to die tomorrow.”

  “Right. We’ll come in our own car. You bring Miss Lolly. What time?”

  Julia gave in to the inevitable. “Ten.” She took the papers to shove into the glove compartment of a Regal Restorations truck before Remy returned. He’d thank her for her interference later.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Julia waved Remy off the next day with a cheery, “Good luck.” Giving him a ten-minute head start that seemed like an hour, she finally dashed to her truck and drove helter-skelter to the prim white cottage engulfed in purple crepe myrtles that Miss Lolly shared with Miss Maxie. Feeling a little guilty about asking the elderly woman to wait on the curb to save time, she started to get down to help her aboard, but Lolly already had the door open.

  The retired teacher did accept a hand extended across the front seat to haul her into the cab. “Not too decrepit to seat myself.” Lolly settled herself and crisply snapped the seatbelt.

  As Julia expected, Remy had already gone inside by the time they arrived at the Barn. Welcome or not, she helped Miss Lolly down. They proceeded to the old general merchandise, more a convenience store now, that fronted the Barn. A burly man running the cash register stepped out from behind the counter when they headed directly to the corridor leading to the interior. “Can I help you ladies find something?”

  Pretty sure the guy wasn’t there only to sell potato chips, Julia answered with a smile, “I’m bringing some papers forgotten by Mr. Remington Broussard to the meeting.” She figured nearly everyone there answered to the same last name.

  “The old lady too?” Such suspicion.

  “Well, I couldn’t leave her in the truck on a hot day like this. The elderly dehydrate so rapidly.”

  “Humph,” uttered Miss Lolly, miffed at having her role in the adventure mitigated. She peered hard at the young man. “I do believe I taught you
r mama in grade school. How is she doing these days?”

  “Ah, good I guess, but…”

  “You should never have to guess about your mama’s status. Give her a call right now, and we’ll proceed to the meeting.”

  “Only Remy was expected.”

  Julia waved the papers in his face. “He needs these asap!”

  Before the man could react, a long, dark shadow fell over their group as the door opened again. Merlin Tauzin stood for a moment letting his eyes adjust to the dim interior, prepared to fight a hidden enemy. His big, black-stubbled chin hardened. His blue eyes burned cold. “Let them in, Len. I’ll vouch for their behavior.”

  Eyeing Jane tucked against her husband’s side, Len answered, “It’s a private meeting. Some women are born to cause trouble.”

  “Not this time. Move along, ladies.” Merlin Tauzin walked behind covering their backs in case Len might go for the pearl-handled pistol known to be kept under the counter. Unfortunately, they had to move at Miss Lolly’s pace. The corridor connecting the store to the Barn seemed to telescope in length as they crept slowly toward the rough voices sounding in the cavernous space ahead.

  “I tell you, me, I got nuttin’ to do with dat new fire. You took your beating like a man for selling out da family. I give you immunity for your woman and dat old hotel. You callin’ me a liar, Remy?” A solid fist pounded on a tabletop and set coffee cups clattering as their group entered. Old Broussard sat enthroned in his oversized chair and surrounded by his usual retinue.

  Slick Broussard was first to his feet. Ignoring the women, he said, “Blackie, what are you doing way out here?”

  Merlin, responding to his old nickname, answered, “Escorting my wife to this meeting. I understand she and these other ladies have something to add.”

  “Your wife always got something to add.”

  “Mais, yeah. If she didn’t push for dat ordinance stopping trash burning in the parish, you coulda torched dat trash pile yourself and saved lots of money on dump trucks and tippage. Someone done you a favor, boy,” Old Broussard said to Remy.