by Linda Joyce
“Grandmother Suzette, how about I finish making tea? You take a seat in the living room. Tell us why we’re graced with your company.”
“If you’re sure, dear,” Suzette said.
Biloxi smiled warmly. The older woman still didn’t trust her in the kitchen, and not without good reason. Since Greta commanded Fleur de Lis’ kitchen, she had only learned to make a few dishes, like red beans and rice and gumbo. Learning to cook took a back seat to everything else.
A bud of grief blossomed. She winced at a stab of pain. Greta’s life without the Old Aunts would change more than anyone’s in the family. She served as their companion for so many years. Her schedule ran based on the needs and wants of the matriarchs of the family. If Branna and James returned, Greta would dote more on baby Anaëlle and feel needed. Something more than cooking for all the family gatherings. Besides, they had to get the Fleur de Lis Café open soon. That would also provide both Greta and Camilla a purpose in life. Her cousin acted restless of late.
After pouring hot water into the teapot, Biloxi pulled out a tray, then gathered cups and saucers. She and Nick would take their tea in mugs, but Suzette would judge that informality an insult for herself and Grandmother Elise. Setting the sugar bowl and the creamer on the tray, she reached for napkins—cloth ones—and spoons.
“Tea is ready.” She picked up the tray and carried it to the living room where Nick perched on a chair flanking the couch and the two older women waited.
Biloxi sat on the open spot on the couch closest to Nick. Handing a cup to her grandmother, then to Suzette, she asked, “So I assume you have news?” She couldn’t imagine any other reason for their unannounced arrival.
“The wills,” Grandmother Elise said, clearly annoyed. “The attorney scheduled the reading of the wills for day after tomorrow. He didn’t bother to ask if that was convenient for me.” Biloxi guessed the lawyer had discussed dates and times with Aunt Macy, and she approved the plan. Grandmother Elise had never been involved in running the estate, but now she wanted to assert her place in the absence of the Old Aunts. Branna’s grandmother, Margarite, had too much sense to get involved in the day-to-day running of things.
“That’s an important detail, Elise, but Nick, we have big news. Brace yourself.”
Nick reached for a mug and took a sip. His expression remained bland. He shrugged. “Mais, Grandmère, you know I don’t like guessing games. How about you just tell me this news?”
Clutching her cup and saucer in her lap, Suzette leaned forward and quickly glanced side to side as though the FBI or CIA might be listening. Biloxi coughed to smother a laugh.
“Your mother,” Suzette whispered.
Nick straightened. “What?”
“We”—she gestured to Elise and herself—“saw your mother.”
Nick scowled. “Not mine.”
“Yes,” Elise insisted. “Suzette showed me a photograph of her on her wedding day. She’s nearly the same, as though she’s not aged a bit. And there’s no mistaking her eyes or her smile. Both are lovely.”
Biloxi blinked and cast a quick glance at Nick, then back to the two other women. It had to be a mistake. Nick had hired a PI to find his mother several times and nothing turned up ever. “More tea?” She held up the pot for a distraction as a bad feeling washed over her—hesitation and a growing spot of gloom. This little interlude, something she’d assumed was brought on by the fanciful interaction of two bored old women, had turned entirely too personal, a potentially disastrous encounter.
Nick set his mug on the coffee table. His demeanor radiated calm and unconcern. He folded his fingers together and leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees. “Ladies, I’m sure you think you know who you saw, but they say everyone has a twin. Did you actually speak to this woman? Ask her name? Get her address or phone number?”
“Well…” Elise began.
“Nicholas, we were just too shocked.” Suzette grabbed Elise’s arm like the old woman was her lifeline and she might be yanked away at any second.
“That isn’t quite true,” Elise countered. “You’re hurting me, Suzette.” She unclamped her friend’s death grip. Biloxi patted her grandmother’s other arm.
“Nick, I knew you’d want proof,” Elise continued. “But the woman, Cat?—is that right, Suzette?—she ducked into a church.”
Nick snorted. “Mais, that settles it. It couldn’t be my mother. Cat in a church…no way.” He leaned back in the chair, stretching his legs out long, as though he had not a care in the world. Clearly, he believed the imaginations of their grandmothers had run amuck. “But I can understand how seeing my mother would cause you shock.”
“We did see her,” Suzette stated emphatically.
Biloxi observed the back and forth like a spectator in the stands at Wimbledon. Nick, always a gentleman raised on values by his deceased Cajun grandfather, Claude, would not do or say anything to intentionally hurt anyone, but…if there was one subject that could make Nick lose his composure, it would be his mother. The last thing Biloxi wanted so close to their wedding was upsetting news. Or someone marching in and dredging up old pain. Postponing the wedding to make Fleur de Lis shine had put a strain on her, and Nick was none too happy about waiting either, it delayed their life together living under one roof and delayed their plans for starting a family—Nick’s greatest desire.
“But before she did…” Elise beamed and reached for her purse. “I’m not as untrainable an old dog as you might think. I recently purchased a new digital camera—not sure how all those pictures are in that little box with no film, but—”
“Grandmother Elise,” Biloxi interrupted. “Please, get to the point.”
“I took a photograph of the woman that almost caused Suzette to have a heart attack.”
Chapter 2
Nick pushed to standing. “You have a picture of her?”
Excitement and a sliver of fear slammed his chest—excitement over finding her, having her attend the wedding, and fear a ten-year-old boy carried for years because he’d lived without his mother, always worrying she might be dead. Though marrying Biloxi gave him a large extended family, one he valued and loved, he could have a completeness to life if his mother was found.
He swallowed hard. The memory of his mother’s voice rang strong in his mind. Images of her flitted in a blurry haze. He wasn’t sure he’d recognize her today. The only photo remaining of Cat was the one Elise had seen on his mantel—his parents on their wedding day, over thirty-five years ago.
“I swear”—Suzette pushed to standing—“on my husband’s grave.” She made the sign of the cross.
“Grandmère, no,” Nick cautioned. Her eyesight wasn’t all that great, and her memory flickered a bit now and again. She had to be mistaken. It couldn’t be his mother, and the last thing he wanted was to crush his grandmother’s confidence by proving her wrong.
“Mary Catherine Weston, well, who knows if she goes by Weston or Trahan, is the woman in this picture.” She took the camera from Elise and handed it to him.
Nick pressed the button to turn it on. His heart bounced in an erratic staccato. What if it was his mother?
Biloxi stood next to him, wrapped an arm around his waist, and stared at the camera’s small screen.
His palms began to sweat. Could it be his mother? He glanced at Biloxi. Surely she heard the rapid thumping of his heart.
Peering at the camera, he blinked to see beyond the blurriness of the photo, a moving image captured in a stationary moment. It could be anyone in a navy blue blouse and skirt. A colorful scarf draped the woman’s head and circled her neck. Part of the blur of the image came from her removing dark sunglasses. Her age was undeterminable from the angle. But her smile… “How can you tell it’s her? Between the scarf and the shades, she could be anyone.”
“Yes, but she only put on the sunglasses when I gasped. We made eye contact for a brief second. I know without a doubt that woman is your mother.” Suzette settled back on the couch and cro
ssed her arms over her chest.
“I don’t know…” Nick squinted at the picture, hoping for a revelation. “You hated her. Why would you bring this up now?”
Suzette sighed. She unfolded hear arms. “It was something Biloxi said.”
“Me?” Biloxi asked.
“Earlier at your great-grandmother’s funeral, you talked about how family had to rally around each member, not just when things were good, but in the difficult times, too. Family needs to respect one another, even when you’re not necessarily liking them. You said love is a verb.”
His darling fiancée had said those words. She’d spoken them in relation to her cousin Camilla’s return to the fold and Branna’s delayed return to Fleur de Lis, and because everyone had Katrina PTSD, had lived in trailers for months—putting everyone on edge. Love required patience, which at times was in short supply.
“I’m not connecting the dots.” Confusion spread across Biloxi’s face.
“Claude did what he thought was best for Nick at the time—taking him from his father after his mother left, but that doesn’t mean it was best. Life changes all of us, for the good, if we allow it. Nicholas, you deserve to know your mother. It’s better now than never. And someday, I hope, you’re going to make her a grandmother. She might want to know her grandchildren. Lord knows, you were the light of my life. And all that I’ve said I believe, but I’ll wager she wants money…or at least some sort of financial support.”
Nick shoved his hands in his pocket and set the camera on the coffee table. “Grandmère, three times in the past—before I graduated vet school, once before and once after Katrina—I hired a private investigator to find her, but always the result was nothing.” He made his way to the chest in the foyer. Opening the bottom drawer, he pulled out an envelope. “I have a report from the last time I hired a PI. They say there’s no trace of Catherine Trahan. Have you mentioned this to my father?” He offered the papers inside the envelope as evidence.
“Nicholas, I know what I saw. And no, I’ve not told your daddy. It might give him apoplexy. Couldn’t have that now, could we?”
“I’m happy you’ve had a change of heart about my mother. However, a chance meeting with a woman in a scarf going into a church?” He still held out hope of locating his mother before the wedding. It could be a pipe dream. Yet, the only reason he hadn’t pushed Biloxi hard to have a double wedding with Branna and James last October was due to a lingering glimmer of hope that he might find his mother. He had imagined the storm would somehow bring her home, and they would be reunited. If nothing more than to meet the Dutrey family’s sense of tradition. He wanted to give his bride the wedding of her dreams. They would have photos of both sets of parents. Two complete pairs.
“As long as you won’t consider it an invasion to your privacy, I’d like to pay a new investigation agency to try to locate Catherine,” Suzette said. “This”—she pointed to the camera—“is proof.”
He sensed her eagerness. A new project might give her something to focus on besides the misery left behind by the storm. Baton Rouge had been flooded with folks from New Orleans escaping the aftermath of the breeched levees and sadly, crime increased with the swell of population. His grandmother’s charmed quiet life had changed due to Katrina.
Nick nodded. “Mais, maybe I gave up too soon. Maybe that woman is my mother. I’d be grateful if you find her.”
Biloxi reached over and squeezed his arm. “This time could be the time.”
****
Biloxi waved at the two elderly women driving away before closing the front door. “I certainly wasn’t expecting that when they barged in and interrupted our afternoon.” Turning, she discovered Nick making himself comfortable on the couch.
“Odd that this should come up now,” he said.
“How so?” she asked, crossing back into the living room.
“You know the old saying, when one door closes, another door opens.” Nick stretched his arms and settled them behind his head. “It’s strange that we just came from a burial—closing of a door—and now someone I lost might walk back into our life.”
“I don’t believe in coincidence. You know that. But we don’t know if someone is walking back into your life. From the photo, the woman was in a hurry to get away.”
“I don’t have a good feeling about this.” His brow creased. His jaw tightened. He frowned.
She could argue the merits of his mother tomorrow. Spending time together, connecting intimately, was what she needed most in the moment. Her sadness began spiraling down. Teetering on the edge of an emotional cliff, Biloxi fought grief. The Old Aunts might not see her walk down the aisle on the arm of her father, but they had to be there in spirit. How grand it would be if Nick’s mother were there, too?
“What do you want to do with the rest of today?” She tried to sound upbeat, seeking to find a positive shift and not give into despair. They had a few hours free of responsibility, and she wanted to make the most of it. “It feels like Sunday after attending church for the funeral, but it’s only Thursday. I’m already set up for the wedding I’m shooting on Saturday, so I’ve got time to kill.”
Nick shrugged.
Biloxi crossed the room and picked up the tray of dirty teacups and mugs, taking them to the kitchen. “Nick, it’s been months since we had an afternoon in the middle of the week to ourselves. I know something I’d like to do.”
“Come over here and let’s talk about it. I need to tell you something.”
Gnawing began in her gut. Her fingers tingled. Based on his tone, whatever he had to say had to be something she wouldn’t like.
As she entered the living room, Nick turned on his side, pointed to the cushion, and motioned for her to join him.
“If you have any bad news, I’m not in a place to hear it right now. I’m too…I feel raw and exposed over the loss of the Old Aunts. That coming on the heels of month and months of work and repairs on the estate since the storm, living in a trailer, all sense of normal life is gone.” Her eyes began to water. “At least they got to see the home they both loved mostly restored to its former grandeur before they…”
“You have their tenacity,” Nick said.
She stretched out on the couch, the full length of their bodies touching, and rested her head on his bent arm. He was her life. Her family might always see her as number two, but Nick never let her forget she was number one with him. “You mean I inherited something good? Something other than work, debts, and trying to maintain family peace?”
He draped his arm over her waist. She laced her fingers with his, needing the security he offered.
Drawing in a deep breath, she let it go. “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s talk.”
When he chuckled, the echoing vibration drowned out all other sound. “Chèr, always so businesslike.”
“Nick,” she warned.
“My mind’s been whirling ever since our grandmothers barged through the door. Since seeing that photo, I think it could be my mother—”
“But you said—”
“I didn’t want to tell you or them. It could be her. Not wanting to give up, I recently tried yet another agency to locate my mother. They’ve collected some data that points to her, including a Social Security number. One of their employees, an ex-NOLA detective, has set up a meeting with the woman next week.”
“Oh?”
“I’m not sure how I feel about all of this now. I wanted to find her for years. I had to know what happened. I prepared myself to hear she was dead. I thought in continuing the hunt, I’d receive information leading me to her gravesite. And I want you to have the perfect wedding. Having both of my parents present…well, it checked the traditional box.”
“So if it’s really her…I’m confused. You do or you don’t want her at the wedding?”
“I definitely want Cat there.” He pushed her hair back and kissed her forehead. “But this is what I do know—and I’m not trying to cause you any pain.”
“Darlin’, just
say it. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”
“I had asked Linc to be my best man before you agreed to the engagement, but I’m thinking—”
“You want to ask your father instead?”
Nick moved. Biloxi scooted over and sat upright.
“How did you know?”
“A woman’s intuition. Oh, Nick,” she groaned. “Really? Now? Another change in the wedding? You’re going to hurt my brother’s feelings. And someone will have to tell my mother before the wedding—or it will be a disaster during the ceremony. Anyway you spin it, it will only be a hurricane of trouble.” How could he do this to her? To them? Hadn’t they just buried the past completely when burying the Old Aunts? He wanted to create a new family feud by snubbing her brother?
“We wouldn’t be having this conversation, if you’d married me last October, had a double wedding like we’d planned.” Nick moved her to sit up.
“So this is my fault?”
“The storm changed all of us. It brought Camilla home and Jared followed. We wouldn’t have made it through all the repairs and Historical Society issues, but for Jared and his grandfather. Camilla wouldn’t be staying on to run the café with Greta if the expansion hadn’t happened—all thanks to Jared and my dad, and the crew he rounded up. The storm ripped away the veneer of our life, yet it brought our families closer. Particularly, my father and me.”
“Oh, Nicholas, I can’t handle more conflict. Camilla is grumbling about going back to Wyoming for the summer. She and Jared are arguing about it. My parents are thinking of selling their home—I love visiting it in the Garden District—and buying an RV, like the one James’ grandparents own. Aunt Macy constantly bickers with Momma, they’re like pecking hens…I’m tired with a capitol T.”
“Which is why, I want my mother to come to the wedding. If my father is my best man—maybe there’s a chance of reconciliation. He’s been sober for a long time…but she could be the catalyst for even more change. It’s a risk I want to take to bring my family together again. You, of all people, understand that.”