Michael had said goodbye and headed out for his swim. She’d strolled toward the reception area to glance at the afternoon’s schedule before deciding whether or not she had time enough to swing by the post office to mail their niece’s birthday gift.
When she heard Brandi’s distinctive giggle followed by Michael’s name, she couldn’t help slowing down. Brandi was, after all, still new to the equation, a twenty-year-old who was financing her way through night classes at the local university. This was her first job as a hygienist, and Jillian had hired the girl based upon a strong interview and employer referrals from jobs held through high school and the dental hygienist program.
In the months since starting work, Brandi had proven professional and pleasant with a good work ethic. While she might also be overly chatty, downright giggly and just plain young, she’d fit in smoothly with the staff, an important part of her job description.
“It’s just wrong that men can lose weight so quickly,” Brandi was saying. “He’s been swimming now for what—a few weeks?”
“More or less,” Dianne agreed.
“Look at him. Did you have any idea he was so buff?”
Dianne laughed. “He does look good.”
“For real. Do you think he wears a Speedo?”
“Brandi!”
They dissolved into laughter, leaving Jillian hastening past the open doorway with that red flag snapping in her mind.
A Speedo?
There’d been a time when Michael in any swimsuit had had girls practically drooling. He was attractive. No question. And Jillian had no trouble viewing him through a young girl’s eyes. She’d been young herself once and, along with most of the cheerleading squad, she’d been head over heels with her tall, dark, handsome and thoroughly charming husband.
But the fact that barely-twenty-year-old Brandi was viewing her significantly older boss as a man hit Jillian where it hurt. Was she being over sensitive? After all, Michael’s recent reversal in diet and exercise had been effecting some changes.
In an office where the staff worked so closely, it was unrealistic to think those changes should go overlooked. Still, the fact that Brandi would notice Michael in such a predatory light started Jillian thinking…
What had brought on Michael’s sudden determination to work out and lose weight?
For quite some time Jillian had been after him to do exactly that because she’d been worried about his health.
She hadn’t come out and nagged, of course, but she’d certainly been operating behind the scenes. Junk food had been the first to get axed from her grocery list with the belief that less temptation in the house would be healthier for them both.
But she knew this man, after all, and had for most of her life, which meant she kept coming back to the fact that Michael would never make these changes randomly. He’d had a reason for deciding now was the time to get into shape.
Should she believe that reason was as simple as he claimed?
Why was she second-guessing him?
That answer was simple, at least—because of the strife between them. She’d agreed to forgive and forget their argument if they came up with common ground about the camp. For two weeks, she’d been sitting on pins and needles waiting for them to do just that.
But life kept on, busy and distracting, and they hadn’t yet gotten around to addressing the subject. Michael appeared to have forgotten—whether or not she was giving him the benefit of the doubt—and her annoyance was brewing with each passing day.
Why should she be forced to bring the subject up again?
If Michael really understood how important this was to her, wouldn’t he follow through on what he’d said?
Shouldn’t he care?
Yes!
But he didn’t appear to care about anything but getting back into shape, which got her thinking about the biggest red flag as a possible explanation—a straying husband.
Her memory flashed back to an exchange she’d happened upon not so long ago…
Brandi had been gearing up for a stint as bridesmaid in her best friend’s wedding, an event that would be an unofficial high-school reunion. She’d been on a crush to look her best, shopping for new clothing and obsessing over hairstyles and makeup and jewelry to the point of delirium.
A job perk of working for a dentist was access to cosmetic niceties like laser enamel bleach and bonding.
Brandi had approached Michael for both, and Jillian’s helpful husband had obliged.
“All done.” Michael stripped off his sanitary gloves and handed them to Charlotte.
Brandi laughed, springing out of the dental chair for a peek as Charlotte said, “Nicely done, Michael.”
He only inclined his head graciously.
“Let me see.” Brandi peered in the storage cabinet mirror. “My smile’s so bright people won’t even notice the bride. Maybe I should tell Dinah to get in here quick.”
Charlotte snorted a laugh. “As if she could get an appointment with this man.”
Michael moved to peer into the mirror beside Brandi and made a show of inspecting her smile. “I do great work.”
Jillian had thought nothing of the exchange at the time except to be impressed by Michael’s generosity. But upon reflection, she recalled the way he’d leaned over Brandi’s shoulder to peer in the cabinet mirror, so close their cheeks almost touched, for body heat to collide, to inhale the scent of Brandi’s hair on a breath.
The memory zeroed in on all the hurt and discontent that had been brewing for weeks now. She’d been mulling the reasons why the camp had become such a problem, trying to find answers for questions…and now she could add a few more to her list. Such as: Was Michael’s inattentiveness more than his usual oblivion to details?
And had she been missing all the signs that her husband had become unsatisfied in their marriage?
6
WHEN SERAFINE heard the sound of a car door from outside, she pushed her chair from the supper table. She and her kin had just gathered for the meal, but she waved off Raphael. “Stay put. I’ll see who it is.”
Raphael nodded, understanding her decree fell under the domain of knowing.
Serafine knew their visitor wanted to see her.
Cracking the sheers on the window, she found Dr. Michael inspecting Raphael’s motorbike. With a smile, Serafine made her way to the door. She always liked seeing how things unfolded. She had a job to do here in Natchez, and while she might have guessed what that job was, she wasn’t sure how to accomplish it.
That was the challenge—reading the signs right. Sometimes she did. Sometimes not. Things always worked out in the end.
She pushed open the door. “What brings you our way tonight, Dr. Michael?”
He glanced away from the bike and held up a ladle. “I found this at the office. I was in the area, so I thought I’d drop by to see if you’d left it yesterday.”
Her smile widened. The ladle wasn’t hers, and Dr. Michael knew it. He also knew she had something to do with the magic blooming inside him. What he didn’t know was how. Had he figured out that part, he’d have taken matters into his own hands and likely put a fast end to the gift of knowing she’d shared.
“This is a great bike.” Dr. Michael’s gaze darted from her back to the motorbike. “Raphael’s or Philip’s?”
“Raphael’s. He just brought it up from Bayou Doré yesterday.” Which Serafine had interpreted as a good sign. Raphael wouldn’t have brought his precious motorbike if he hadn’t meant to stay a while in Natchez.
“That was a trip.”
“You can say that again. Raphael had his motorbike up on a rack at first light to balance the tires. Streets in that part of town are in sorry shape after the hurricane.”
“Damn shame that,” Dr. Michael said. “I don’t think we see half of it on the news. Speaking of, any news on how the construction’s going at home?”
“Just fine from what I hear. They condemned my grandson Sam’s house, which is a blessing in d
isguise, let me tell you. But my niece Stacey’s house will be just fine with some work, which is also a blessing since she loves the old place. Once my son rips out the floors and walls and cabinets to get rid of the six inches of mold, the place will look brand new. She’ll even get to pick the colors and finishes herself. After the new appliances are in, it’ll be like a total remodel.”
“That’s the right spirit,” Dr. Michael said. “I’m impressed by how so many people have been able to keep focused on the positives in the middle of so much devastation and upheaval. Jillian and I have friends who lived two blocks from the Seventeenth Street levee. Yellow-tagged. They lost both their house and their office.”
“We got a lot to be thankful for. Smart folks remember it. What’s a house but walls and a roof? What really matters is that the family is alive and well.” Serafine chuckled. “And the pets, too. Didn’t lose a one and that’s saying a lot. Stacey has four cats, seven birds, a chicken and an iguana.”
“That is saying something.”
True enough, but it was what Dr. Michael wasn’t saying that Serafine found more interesting. That he’d paid a visit to fish for information seemed obvious, but she wondered if he would just fish or if he’d jump the distance between polite chitchat to accusations of casting magic.
She couldn’t wait to find out.
“Well, how rude am I, keeping you standing on the stoop. You come right in now, Dr. Michael.” Swinging the door wide, she waited until he strode up the steps, plucked the ladle from his hand then used it to motion him toward the dining room. “This is a pleasure. And here I thought I’d left your break room spic and span. Must be losing my mind.”
Serafine hadn’t lost her mind any more than she’d lost her ladle, but she would play along. She was mighty curious to see what Dr. Michael did next.
When he hesitated, she reached outside, took him by the arm and herded him through the door. He frowned when he saw her kin sitting around the table.
“I’m interrupting your dinner.”
“Of course you aren’t. We haven’t taken the first bite. Have you eaten yet?”
“Ah, um, I was planning to pick—”
“Then you’ll join us. Marie-Louise always cooks up enough for an army. Filling up these boys, you know. Philip already took some down to Ike, and there’s still plenty. Good thing, too, because the boys can always tell when she whips up another supper with leftovers. I think she’s brilliant myself, but boys will be boys.” Serafine tightened her grip and kept Dr. Michael moving toward the table, pleased that Marie-Louise was already arranging another setting.
“You’re sure I’m not intruding?”
“Pshaw.” Serafine coaxed him to a chair beside Raphael, who extended a hand in greeting.
“Good evening, Raphael.” Dr. Michael looked more at ease as he took a seat, the promise of food working another sort of magic. Nodding at Philip, he flashed a smile at Marie-Louise, who set a plate in front of him. “Thank you.”
“Nothing fancy on the menu tonight,” she said. “Just some pan fish and veggies. I hope you like trout, Dr. Michael.”
“Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious. That’s really why I’m here. The ladle was only a ploy to get in the door.”
Marie-Louise beamed at his praise. “Must be the corn bread.”
“Or the raisin pie,” Philip added with a quick glance at the counter where the pie in question cooled.
Dr. Michael followed his gaze. “I’ve never had the pleasure.”
“Then you’re in for a treat,” Serafine said. “Because our Marie-Louise makes the best in the bayou. No, I take that back. The best in the South.”
Philip let out a whoop of agreement, and Dr. Michael said, “Can’t wait.”
The man was a charmer all right. No wonder Mrs. Jillian had snapped him up. Smart woman. Serafine might not have loved her Laurent with the sort of drench-your-heart-in-moonlight-and-tears sort of love that Virginie had been so fond of, but Serafine had loved her man in her way. He’d been a good man.
Dr. Michael was a good man, too. And while she didn’t know the details of what was ailing his marriage—yet—she knew enough about life and love to spot trouble. The disagreement she’d overheard was only a symptom of a bigger problem. Serafine needed to find out what it was.
And nothing like a little magic to shake things up.
Now she helped Marie-Louise serve up supper, and after Raphael said the grace, she decided to see if Dr. Michael was more prone to secret-spilling than his pretty wife.
“Mrs. Jillian tells me you used to visit the camp while you were growing up,” she said. “She seems right fond of the place, but what I want to know is how such a busy couple makes time to manage a camp this size. The longer I’m here, the more amazed I am. A lot of traditions carrying on through the years. A lot of work. I know Mrs. Jillian is a whirlwind. And I was at your office, Dr. Michael. You’re just as busy.”
From the look on Dr. Michael’s face, Serafine had hit the bull’s-eye. No surprise there. She hadn’t, after all, been shy about eavesdropping.
“Jillian thinks we can kill two birds with one stone by owning the camp.”
“What birds would those be?”
“Bringing the camp into the twenty-first century and giving us a reason to get out of town on the weekends.”
“Really?” Now here was one of those signs that needed reading. “Mrs. Jillian wants to work on her weekends?”
“She wants to relax. Believe it or not.” Dr. Michael gave a chuckle that assured her he didn’t. “Camp Cavelier is year-round. We practically grew up here between summers and the various celebrations and field trips. So did every other kid in Natchez. Jillian’s convinced once she gets a strong staff in place, she’ll have time to renovate the owner’s cottage so we can have a weekend getaway.”
What Dr. Michael wasn’t saying, and what Serafine wasn’t sure he even realized, was that his wife wanted to make time for the two of them to be together. To Serafine’s mind, Mrs. Jillian had stacked the deck. Not only did this camp hold fond memories for the Landrys, but owning the place would force them to spend time here. Grand plans to be sure, but Serafine didn’t need but a few weeks’ acquaintance to know Mrs. Jillian was one determined lady.
“This sure would be a fun place to get away to,” Raphael added, making Serafine wonder if the boy was finally going to take her advice to join forces. “We’ve been hearing all about the place from Ike, and there sure is a lot to do. You’ve got the horses, the lake and all those hiking trails. I’ve already surveyed the owner’s cottage, and it won’t take much to renovate. The place has gotten old, but structurally it’s sound.”
Dr. Michael set his sweet tea back on the table. “Glad to hear it. I didn’t pay much attention at the walk-through before the closing. All I remember about the place was the sawdust falling on my head when I got dragged down there for a lecture the last summer I spent as a camper.”
“A lecture,” Philip said. “What for?”
“Relocating the newly hatched snakes into Doll House.”
“Snakes?” Philip laughed and Dr. Michael nodded, his devilish grin revealing the memory as a fond one.
“Bet the girls loved that.” Raphael shook his head.
“If memory serves, there was a good bit of hysteria as they evacuated the cabin, and fast, too, I’d say, given that they were all half-dressed for bed. Didn’t even bother grabbing their robes.”
“That’s horrible.” Marie-Louise set her fork down with a rattle and a grimace. “Was Doll House Mrs. Jillian’s cabin?”
“It was indeed. And that was the night I decided to woo my beautiful wife.”
Serafine elbowed Raphael. “We’d better be on our guard if that’s the sort of pranksters who’ll be coming for the summer.”
Dr. Michael’s baby blues twinkled. “Oh, get ready.”
“You only got called down to the owner’s cabin for a lecture?” Serafine asked. “From what Ike and Mrs. Jillian have said
the discipline is pretty strict around here nowadays.”
“It was strict back then, too. The lecture was only the start. The owners gave me three weeks of kitchen detail. I peeled so many potatoes I thought my fingers would fall off. But the real punishment was Doll House’s retribution. The old owners always let the campers have a hand in the sentencing.”
“Peer punishment.” Serafine let out a low whistle. “Young ’uns can be downright mean. Bet that wasn’t pretty.”
“I was stupid enough to think I’d get off easy because they were girls. That was until they got the guys in Dreadnought to drag me out of bed in the middle of the night. Try to imagine the sort of mess a gallon of maple syrup and the dinner trash can make.” Dr. Michael chuckled. “I wound up in the lake for a midnight swim butt-naked with the whole camp cheering me on. Don’t know what appealed to me most—Jillian’s evil mind or the way she looked in her pajamas.”
Only after the laughter died away did Serafine point out that hell hath no fury like a woman—for any reason.
“True enough,” Dr. Michael agreed. “As I’ve learned the hard way. Should have paid closer attention to Bernice and Carl’s lecture instead of the sawdust.”
“Must have been termite damage,” Raphael said. “I noticed the signs around the foundation, but the trouble was fixed years ago from what I can tell. The drywall’s not that old, and the frame is strong enough to hold up during a hurricane. Not Katrina, maybe, but close enough.”
“So you’ve inspected the cottage and made a list of the work that needs to be done, Raphael? How much of it do you think you can do yourself?”
“A lot,” Raphael said. “You and Mrs. Jillian might need to sub-contract some of the plumbing and electrical work to get the permits, but as far as the carpentry, drywall and roofing goes, Philip and I have got it covered. We can hang the light fixtures, even wallpaper or paint—whatever Mrs. Jillian wants.”
If You Could Read My Mind Page 9