“The local newspaper was their social media. Ending up in there was one of the hazards or perks, depending on the day, of being part of the wealthy in the community.”
“You say that as if it’s a good thing,” she accused.
Far from it. “No. A fact.”
She shook her head, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t think I’d ever want to be involved with someone that rich.”
“Why not?” His scoff almost sounded like a laugh, but it was far from it. “Because you might get tweeted about?”
She’d have to grow thick skin if she was going to date him. He wasn’t famous, at least, but sometimes, by virtue of his money and the obligations—and the privileges, he admitted—that went with the wealth, he ended up being at the kind of events reported in society columns.
“It’s not really that so much; it’s just not my life.” Emma doodled a string of ivy leaves down the side of her notebook. “I think money changes a person. How can people with that kind of cash relate to people like you and me? I mean, I realize you own a plantation and all, but parts of it have been in your family for years. I’m talking about really rich people.”
“It only changes people who let it.” How could he help her understand? “You’re saying if this was you.” She seemed to be forgetting these were her ancestors they were talking about. “If your family had all this money, you wouldn’t want it because it might change you into some terrible stereotype? Think of all the good you could do.” He watched her carefully. “All the places you could go.” That got a little bit of a reaction. “You can’t tell me that doesn’t get your little history infatuation bubbling. All the family you could help.”
“You make a good point.” She completed the ivy chain across the bottom of her page and then went back to perusing the newspaper articles. A couple of silent seconds ticked past. “Wait—” A look of realization crossed Emma’s face. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”
She’d finally pieced it all together.
While he tried to figure out how to admit she was correct, her eyes grew huge. “I think I found it. Listen to this.” She cleared her throat and tried on an official broadcaster voice. “‘An incident occurred on Gen. Bradish Heidel’s Indigo Pointe plantation in the parish of St. John the Baptist, last Sunday morning.’”
Theo followed along as she read, distracting himself with the strange capitalization and superfluous commas.
Emma kept reading, but reverted to her usual voice. “‘The church, near this Town, caught fire soon after worship services began. Residents of the neighboring plantation rushed to aid in the cessation of the blaze, instituting a water brigade. Sadly, however, our friend, Gen. Heidel and his wife, and two other plantation residents, perished in the fire. The only Heidel family member, a young child, is reported to have survived the incident. Other parishioners seated at the rear of the chapel were able to escape. Many of the Good Samaritans and colored folk who attempted to fight the fire were injured with severe burns, two of the latter, are in precarious conditions.’”
Emma paused to catch a breath. “‘The fire was undoubtedly the work of incendiaries, and it is to be hoped that a rigid investigation will disclose the names of the guilty parties, that they may be blasted with the breath of popular indignation.’”
As she read, the news felt like a weight on his chest.
Emma, obviously processing as well, chewed on her bottom lip. “We were right. That’s why all those grave markers have the same death year.” He thought she might cry, but her voice wobbled on. “They died in the fire. I don’t know … if I can ever go inside that church again.” This time, she was so overcome with emotion, she seemed unable to continue, and Theo knew exactly how she felt.
Chapter 19
“Don’t be ridiculous, girl.”
The voice, like gravel being ground into sidewalk, startled Emma. The woman who’d been practically snoring had awoken to reprimand her?
“That there church fire happened a long time ago—coming up on two centuries more than not. All kinds of Civil War atrocities been happening all over this here parish, and you worried ’bout some unfortunate church fire? If’n you can walk pass them slave quarters y’all have back there, you can go into that church. Gotta be more awful things happened on that property than an accidental fire in a church house. More ghosties in the shadows than in the light.”
Emma didn’t need to be reminded. The nausea that had gripped her moments ago as she’d read the ledger of St. John the Baptist parish slave sales had made her physically ill.
But this woman had missed the point about the church. “The article said the fire was arson,” Emma respectfully challenged.
“You ain’t gonna believe a hundred-fifty-year-old paper over the likes of Miss Abbylaide, now is ya? I been around here a lot longer’n you young folk and been hearing all the talk ’bout them good-for-nothin’ Lamberts for years, but even I don’t believe that.”
Emma felt Theo stiffen beside her.
As if preparing for a confrontation with Theo, the woman shifted taller in her seat, and Emma saw the age lines on her face, the experience etched into her features as much as the legends of the land had seeped into her bones. “And I can tell you about the chil’ too.”
Now this had promise. Theo fidgeted in his seat, so Emma reached over and placed her hand on his, hoping it would calm him.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman went on without reacting to Theo. “I been rude. I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Abbylaide Beauchamp of the St. John the Baptist Parish Historical Society.” She turned so Emma and Theo could see the dull silver badge pinned to her cardigan. Miss Abbylaide had their full attention and knew it. “The chil’ be one Miss Ivette Heidel, three years old.”
Miss Abbylaide sure was pleased with herself, but Emma wasn’t sure of the significance of what she was hearing.
“My mama worked for the Treager family for years ’til they sell the place. She cook for the family, always talk about her friend, Miss Ivy, all the time.”
“Ivy?” Now that the shock of the tragedy was wearing off, Emma couldn’t help but get a little excited. Here was her first real clue. She was sure of it.
“Ivy.” The woman smacked her lips loudly. “That’s what she go by. Miss Ivy. She never believe the Lamberts start that fire, but you couldn’t convince the rest of them Treagers—or that town for that matter.”
Emma heard Theo inhale sharply and braced herself. She could feel him seething, and while she had no idea what he was going to say, she knew something was coming.
“So the Treagers blamed the Lamberts for setting the fire?” he asked, his voice cracking subtly. Emma could see Theo’s jaw setting. “Was that the genesis of the feud between the families, then?”
Emma turned a look of surprise on Theo. He hadn’t said anything about a rift between their families.
“Oh, for sure,” Miss Abbylaide said. “Started with them Treagers blaming the Lamberts for setting the fire. Then saying they was trying to take over the house. Nothing worse than them fighting over the house with a little girl caught between. After that the Lamberts sabotage the plantation, making the Treagers lose their house. All part of their plan, them Lamberts, so they could hunt for the Treager treasure. You heard there is treasure on that property, didn’t ya?”
Miss Abbylaide turned a squinty eye at Emma. “And now Mr. Lambert gone and done it—took Indigo Pointe away from the rightful owners, I heard. My husband’s grandniece, she work at Indigo Pointe—Zoe. She has more right to the place than that Lambert boy.” She closed her eyes and shook her head so hard her jowls jiggled with the motion. “Don’t get me started …”
“Ms. Beauchamp?” Theo got her attention. “Do you know who I am?”
“Oh, I know ’xactly who you is, Mr. Lambert, but Ms. Treager deserve to know ’xactly who you are and what you’s up to as well.”
“And what exactly do you mean by that?” Theo was barely holding back his temper.
“T
hat you is trying to beat this girl to finding her family treasure.”
Chapter 20
If that old woman was going to accuse Theo and his family of backhanded, nefarious deeds against a neighbor, Theo was going to stand up to her—even if she was older than Indigo Pointe itself, and by virtue of her age should have earned his respect. Just because she was old or a woman or a human, for that matter, didn’t mean she had earned his civility.
He was about to lose the last of his manners when Emma stood and tugged on his hand. He rose, blindly blinking down at the table as he packed up his computer and notes.
“Thank you for sharing the story with us, Miss Abbylaide.” Emma was sweeter than freshly powdered beignets. How the woman could be so kind, Theo would never know, but at least Abbylaide Beauchamp had answered all the questions they’d come to the library for.
With his stuff shoved into his messenger bag, Theo turned his back on the table and the person sitting at it.
“’Bye, now,” he heard the old woman say. “Good day, Mr. Lambert, Miss Treager.” As politely as if she were wishing them well after sharing a glass of iced tea. Well, he didn’t like tea, no matter how much sugar you dumped in it, and he felt the same exact way about Miss Abbylaide Beauchamp and her jaded version of his family history. At least she didn’t think the Lamberts started the fire.
Emma put a cold hand on his elbow, and the two of them walked from the library. The door to the lobby wasn’t even completely closed before she started in. With a sigh. That was the worst, knowing she was disappointed in him.
“What is with you?” Emma’s whisper hissed at his side as they marched through the lobby.
“You heard her.” He pushed hard on the front door but still took the time to hold it open for her.
“Yes, I did.” Emma’s words were clipped, staccato accusations against his character. “Are you afraid there might be some truth to her story?”
Coming from Emma, that stung. He could put up with other people, would even been able to blow off Mrs. Beauchamp’s scorn in an hour or two, but he thought Emma knew him better. Apparently not.
“She doesn’t know anything about me or my family.” He swallowed hard, trying to control his anger. Two deep breaths, and he felt more collected.
Emma stopped and forced him to look at her. “Then why are you so angry?”
“I’m not.” While that wasn’t exactly true, he also knew she meant more than just today. But she had no idea what it felt like to be judged by everyone for something he hadn’t done. In fact, it hadn’t even been his family; it had been hers. Yet somehow, because he owned the plantation, he was the monster doomed to pay restitution at the hand of public accusation. He fought to earn the upper hand over his fury. How was it that he could care for Emma so much, yet find himself with such a short fuse around her?
“Well, you could have fooled me.”
He started walking again, keeping his eyes off her, and focused on where he wanted to go. Hopefully a few yards of silence would lessen the tension.
“You know, Theo, we get to choose what defines us.” Emma’s tone was softer now, which made him feel even more like a jerk. “If you want to change people’s opinions of you, and if you want Indigo Pointe to be successful, you might need to work on your public image.”
She was probably trying to tell him he needed to control his temper. He knew this already, but at this point, he really didn’t care. If Emma could believe the worst in him, did it matter what everyone else thought? How could she think so little of him when, just nights before, her lips had been pressed against his, her fingertips tracing the muscles at the back of his neck? Didn’t she know him well enough to see that his only intention was to help her, no matter what their families’ past had been?
To him it had been about their dance in the moonlight and her childlike wonder at the lightning bugs. Shadows and memories turning into beauty and hope.
Chapter 21
What am I doing? Emma knew it was embarrassment more than anything else that was bothering her. But could she be with a guy who couldn’t hold his temper with an elderly stranger? Or someone who would take his frustrations out on her? Maybe Theo wasn’t the man she thought he was.
Her phone buzzed in her purse, and she pulled it out to see her father’s photo on the screen.
“Hi, Dad.” The crushing pain of disappointment over things with Theo settled behind her eyes, and she pinched the bridge of her nose.
The two of them had reached Theo’s truck, and he opened the door for her, silently waiting for her to get in before clicking it closed.
“Hey, chickadee, how’s Louisiana?” Her father’s voice sounded heavier than usual, but maybe that was her imagination.
So many possible answers ran through her mind, but she went with the expected. “Sticky.” It aptly described more than the weather. “What’s up?” It wasn’t like her father to call during the day in the middle of the week.
“Opa’s in the hospital.”
She could hear the pain and worry in her father’s words and felt them echo in her chest. “Oh no. Is it serious?”
Theo threw a glance of concern her direction. While the last thing she wanted was for him to be dragged into her present-day family drama, there was no way to keep him from overhearing at least her side of the conversation. She put the call on speaker, lifting a finger to her lips as an understanding between them that Theo wasn’t to say anything. It would save her from having to explain everything.
“We’re not sure how serious his condition is at the moment,” her father said. “His heartbeat has been irregular and he’s very lethargic.” He paused long enough to wipe out the emotion that was leaking through his voice. “Opa hasn’t been well for a few days, and Oma is beside herself with worry. She’s afraid she’s going to lose her husband, which then gets her to worrying about everything else, including saying she’ll lose her home trying to pay Opa’s medical expenses. I’ve tried to tell her it’s too early to worry about all that, and we’ll help take care of things. I know it will all work out.”
It sounded as if he needed someone to tell him that, but Emma couldn’t. Not when she couldn’t see the possibility herself.
“Anyway,” her father went on, “I know you haven’t been working there long, but do you think your employer would give you time off for a visit?”
Theo nodded emphatically in her peripheral vision.
“Of course I’ll come.” Emma’s mind was spinning one hundred miles per hour. “If he comes home, maybe I should move in to help care for him.” She couldn’t believe she was saying this. Was it her responsibility to give up her career?
“Oh, honey, I appreciate the offer, but as I said, it’s too early to worry about things like that.”
“And I’ll have a long drive to think about it.” Emma couldn’t possibly scrape together enough money to fly last-minute. She would feel guilty about leaving her job at Indigo Pointe unfinished, but at least she hadn’t broken ground on the new front entrance. “I’ll see you soon, Dad. Love you.”
Ending the call, Emma slipped the phone into her purse pocket, a tornado of disorganized plans swirling in her head.
“Let me help.” The gentleness was back in Theo’s voice, the arguments and tension between them forgotten.
She shook her head. “There’s nothing that can be done.” She blinked back a few tears. What if Opa passed away before she could get there? Or what if, when she got there, he did end up needing her help? How long could she put her life on hold? What kind of monster did it make her if she didn’t?
“At least let me fly you home so you can spend some time with him. Show him pictures of the doorknob and the graves, tell him what you’ve found so far.” Theo didn’t say it, but she felt he was implying it would give her grandfather a reason to hang on until his hundredth birthday and the solution to his mystery.
Theo was sincere, Emma assured herself. This wasn’t a manipulation after their argument. He wasn’t looking for a
ny kind of quid pro quo. He wasn’t trying to buy her forgiveness, was he?
This was exactly the reason she wouldn’t ever be with a rich guy, not if she always wondered about ulterior motives. Her mind hurt trying to parse it all out. She leaned her head into her hands, allowing the blast of air conditioning to blow her hair from her face, unsure what to do.
“One phone call and I could have a plane ready to take off in an hour, hour and a half. Please?” Theo touched her arm, his hand gentle and reassuring. “Go for a few days, spend time with your loved ones.” He seemed to perceive the cause of her worry. “If you end up needing to return home permanently, we’ll figure it out then.” He rubbed her back in small circles as he drove. “Try to take it one step at a time.”
Exhaustion flooded through her; the worry and stress, both physical and emotional, was taking its toll. There was no way she could start that drive today. “Okay.”
Emma leaned back and closed her eyes. She imagined herself back in Theo’s arms, the two of them the only people in their own private, magical garden of fireflies. She wanted nothing more than to allow him to take care of her just this once. She was beginning to feel she’d been all wrong about her assumptions about Theo and rich men.
She relaxed into the headrest and fell asleep until Theo woke her in the parking lot at Indigo Pointe.
Chapter 22
Emma had only been gone a couple of days, but it felt like forever to Theo. He’d planned to throw himself back into work, which had been his MO before he’d ever met Emma, but instead, he wandered aimlessly around Indigo Pointe. What he needed to do was to set up some face-to-face meetings in Nice and Budapest, but for the first time in his life, the deserts of eastern Oregon had more of a pull on his mind and heart than the hillsides of Europe. Something he’d never expected to happen.
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