The Owner's Secret (A Secret Billionaire Romance Book 4)

by Kimberley Montpetit

  Skirting debris and fallen tree branches, floating tires and a myriad of personal water-logged possessions, the paramedics continued to check Mirry’s vitals.

  The two men who had been out all day rescuing people from their homes called out to a young couple hanging out their windows when the boat passed. “Need a rescue?”

  The husband shook his head. “Thanks, got a brother coming any minute with a boat.”

  The man at the engine nodded. “Call emergency if you have any trouble and we’ll come back and get you.”

  After thirty minutes, the hospital finally came into view, and Melody wanted to cry with relief. Granny Mirry was so still, so quiet, she was terrified at her condition.

  The paramedics tied up the boat just below the hospital emergency entrance because the building was sitting higher than the flood waters. Only a few inches of sloshy water surrounded the sandbagged doors as they carried her grandmother inside.

  The lights and sounds of the hospital were welcoming; nurses and doctors bustling up and down the hallways and in and out of triage cubicles treating patients.

  A cup of hot tea was thrust into Melody’s hands, accompanied by a clipboard of admissions paperwork while they took Mirry into an exam room. “Drink this, love, you look stunned. I’ll be back to update you on your grandmother’s condition in ten minutes.”

  Melody nodded, trying to get past the dizzy motion rolling through her body. Worry gnawed at her throat and stomach.

  After quickly scribbling down the information on the intake paperwork, she rose to her feet, gulped down the hot, comforting herbal tea, and then set the cup down on a table where other volunteers were manning hot drinks and food for patients and family members.

  Just as she reached the cubicle, the same nurse pushed back the curtains. “Come on in, Miss—”

  “Sorry, I’m Melody de Lyon, her granddaughter. How is she? What’s wrong with her?”

  “You took good care of her under difficult circumstances,” the nurse said. “We’re taking her for chest x-rays but the doctor thinks she’s got pneumonia. That explains the high fever and raspy cough. She needs a few good doses of antibiotics and lotsa, lotsa rest.”

  “Can I take her home and care for her?”

  The nurse gave Melody a wry smile. “From what I understand her house is underwater. What about yours?”

  Melody gave a short laugh. “I heard from my—a friend—that my house and business are completely flooded. I’m not sure where to go.”

  “Any other family close by?”

  She chewed on her lips, shaking her head. “My sister in Baton Rouge is out of town. My other sister lives in Chicago.”

  “There’s a group of Cajun fishermen with boats transporting folks out of the flood zone. They’ll help you get away from the major flooding.”

  “But I don’t want to leave my grandmother. I can’t—”

  “She’s going to be in good hands here, I assure you,” the nurse said, reaching out to squeeze Melody’s hand. “Your grandmother’s age is delicate despite her past good health. The high temperature and the fluid in her lungs needs to be monitored. I know it’s a sacrifice not to be with her, but you can visit as soon as the water recedes in a week or so.”

  “A week?” Melody echoed. What would she do until then?

  Her boyfriend had deserted her. Her neighbors were probably with family or had left the city. Her co-workers—who knew?

  And now her purpose for staying—taking care of her grandmother had been taken away. She’d hoped to sleep in the empty hospital bed next to Mirry, but she realized that every bed was full.

  “I’m sorry,” the nurse said, gazing at Melody’s stricken face. “We’re all dealing with the upheaval, but your grandmother will get the best care. You have my promise. My home is gone so I’m camping out here in the hospital round the clock.”

  A shiver ran up Melody’s spine. “I’m so sorry. Thank you for taking care of her. I guess I can leave the hospital knowing she’s in good hands. I’ll try to figure out where to go,” she added, her mind whirling as she tried to figure out where that might be.

  “I’ll be with her every day, sweetheart. Now go in and talk to her and then we’ll be whisking her off to X-ray.”

  Biting back hot tears, Melody nodded again, following her to the curtained cubicle.

  “Granny Mirry,” she whispered, bending over her to stroke the tangled gray hair from her forehead. “Are you awake?”

  Her grandmother’s eyes fluttered, but she didn’t open them. “Yes,” she said faintly, her fingers grappling for the sheet with a weakness that shocked Melody.

  “I’m right here and you’re in the hospital. They’re going to take good care of you, but I have to go find a shelter somewhere. If I can find a boat to take me.”

  “No,” Mirry said, her lips barely moving. “Go home. Go home.”

  “My apartment is gone.”

  Her grandmother tried to wave away her words, but her hand fell limply to her side. “Home to White Castle.”

  “You don’t give you in, do you?”

  Mirry’s lips tried to lift in a smile, but she was too weak. “White Castle. Please.”

  Melody leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She waited for a response, but her grandmother had fallen unconscious.

  “It’s time,” the nurse said at the door.

  Reluctantly, Melody slid her hand from her grandmother’s fragile fingers and slipped slowly through the white curtains of the hospital triage cubicle.

  For a moment, she stood shell-shocked, staring at the hustle and bustle of the emergency entrance. People continued to stream through via boat or on foot, soaked to the skin, to be treated for cuts and gashes, broken bones, and some even carrying crying children.

  Grabbing her phone out of her purse, she saw that the hospital had wifi! A small miracle.

  Melody put White Castle into her map app. What exactly was White Castle? It sounded vaguely familiar, but her brain wasn’t working at the moment.

  The little town was only about ninety minutes away, northwest from New Orleans. It looked like she could take Interstate 10, cross the Mississippi, and finally cut down Highway 1 straight there. But how long would it take with clogged roads and flooded river banks?

  “This is completely crazy,” Melody said out loud. “I need to go to a shelter.”

  But she had promised Mirry, and her grandmother would darn well ask her about it later.

  Maybe Granny Mirry would laugh at herself and declare she must have been delirious.

  Except her grandmother hadn’t been delirious at all. Just emphatically insistent.

  Outside the hospital doors, it was still raining. Melody pulled her jacket hood over her head and gazed about. At least she had cash with her.

  One of the male hospital orderlies stepped out to glance at the sky and Melody walked forward. “Excuse me. Do you have any idea how I get out of town? Or if there’s a way to get a cab or Uber?”

  “Heard there’s a ride board on the other side of the hospital, in the lobby. Check there. Good luck.”

  Melody smiled her thanks and trudged through the hospital again searching for the corridor that would take her to the main entrance. The sheeted cubicle where she had just said goodbye to her grandmother was now occupied by someone else.

  A pain flashed in her chest, but she told herself to toughen up. Everyone was displaced, soaking wet, or searching for loved ones.

  There was actually a camaraderie among the people standing at the ride board discussing various routes and transportation possibilities to get out of the flooded city.

  Melody hung around, and had begun eyeing an empty corner of linoleum to lie down when a middle-aged couple approached and told her they were headed to Baton Rouge to their daughter’s home that hadn’t flooded yet and they’d be glad to take her to White Castle.

  “You’re very kind, but that’s so out of your way,” Melody
said, guilt streaming through her.

  “Nonsense,” Mrs. Hebert said firmly. “It’s not that far from Baton Rouge and it’s nearly dark now.”

  “The rain is worsening again,” Mr. Hebert agreed. “I suggest we get a move on, young lady. Our car is this way, and we don’t want to leave you behind, alone. The city is going to get very dangerous in the next hour or two. And,” he added gently, “it will help us to know that we’ve helped you.”

  Chapter 4

  No sooner had Melody climbed inside their Camry sedan than the rain began to fall in torrents. Traffic crawled on the city streets that hadn’t flooded yet, but Mr. Hebert skirted closed roads and reached higher ground an hour later.

  After four hours, they finally reached the turn-off to Highway 1 and White Castle. The power was out everywhere, and the darkness intense. Shadows of hulking oak trees lined the roads. There were no lights beyond the vehicle’s headlights.

  From the back seat, Melody couldn’t even see the banks of the Mississippi. The rain was abysmal, and drummed against the windshield, moving the wipers at top speed.

  “Your daughter must be so worried by now,” Melody said.

  Mrs. Hebert brushed off her concerns. “We’re almost to White Castle now and not more than another hour to our daughter’s home. At least we have a place to go. You lost everything, my dear, and I’m so sorry. You must be devastated. Your bookstore sounds wonderful.”

  “The flood waters will recede in a week or so and then it’ll just be all the mucking out and cleaning up,” Mr. Hebert said in his deep, comforting voice. “Mostly elbow grease.”

  Melody tried not to think about her bookstore, although she had thought about it plenty while she made small talk with the Hebert’s over the last few hours. “You are very kind, but I’m not even sure I want to deal with it right now. Maybe I should just sell the store.”

  What she didn’t say was that all her memories had washed away with the hurricane and the flooding, along with all her hard work of the last three years getting the bookstore up and running. And now her boyfriend was gone, too. How had she misjudged him so badly? Vince had pulled out at the first sign of trouble.

  “Is this White Castle?” Melody asked, pressing her face up against the Camry’s window.

  “This is the little town, yes,” said Mr. Hebert.

  “It’s so tiny. I had no idea.”

  “You need to get to know your state,” Mr. Hebert said with a chuckle.

  “But I thought White Castle was a historical plantation.”

  “Actually, the plantation mansion is on the other side of town. Called Nottingham, actually. It’s nickname is White Castle because it looks like a castle. At least from the outside, I’ve never been inside.”

  Melody’s stomach jumped and her heart gave a peculiar flutter in her chest. Why had her grandmother sent her here? Most of all, what sort of shape was the place in? Was it even livable? Maybe it was filled with sunken ceilings and rotting floorboards.

  She’d be camping outside—with no tents or sleeping bag.

  Melody was woefully unprepared. She’d only come because her grandmother had insisted—and because New Orleans was unlivable right now. She had no money for a hotel, either. The bookstore expenses drained her bank account every single month.

  “I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place,” she muttered.

  “So many folks are suffering right now,” Mrs. Hebert murmured sympathetically, not understanding Melody’s meaning, but her husband frowned and glanced in his rearview mirror with concern.

  “Have you got people here to meet you?” he asked.

  Melody gave a small smile. “I’ll be perfectly fine,” she assured him.

  If Grandmother Mirry had sent her here, she had to be fine. There had to be a reason. She would just have to make the best of it.

  Even so, hot tears pricked at her eyes as she fumbled for her cell phone and turned it on. Earlier, she had turned it off to save battery power. Hopefully, there was a cell tower out here. Yes, her phone was still half powered and one bar of service lit up the screen. Weak, but hopefully a call could go through if she found herself stuck.

  Mr. Hebert pointed through the windshield. “Here’s the sign for Nottingham.”

  “You can drop me off right here,” Melody told him.

  “It’s too dark. You’ll step in a ditch or something,” Mrs. Hebert protested.

  “I grew up camping and I’m wearing my boots. I don’t want you to get stuck out here and not make it to your daughter’s house.”

  “It’s so cloudy, there’s no way to see,” Mr. Hebert said. “Here, take this flashlight to help you get to the house.” He reached over to open the glove compartment and pulled out a hefty black flashlight which he pressed into Melody’s hand despite her protests.

  “Thank you so much. Somehow, I’ll get your flashlight back to you. How far up the road is the house?”

  “No more than a quarter of a mile. Don’t see any lights so power must be out here, too.”

  Melody’s heart sank. “Guess there’s not much I can do about it,” she said with forced cheerfulness. “Well, here goes nothing,” she added when Mr. Hebert finally eased the car to a stop.

  Mrs. Hebert insisted on exchanging contact info so she could check on Melody. “If you have any trouble, you call us immediately!”

  “I will,” Melody promised. “Thank you again.”

  She lifted her hand in farewell when the Heberts’ slowly drove off. “What am I thinking?” she said aloud. Silence filled her ears and she gave a faint groan of trepidation. The headlights of the car disappeared around the next bend.

  It was drizzling, but not too bad. After lifting the hood of her jacket over her head again, she began to trudge up the gravel drive.

  Deep darkness enveloped her with damp arms as though it were alive. Cautiously, she walked past hulking shadows of cypress and oak trees. Overhead, not a single star peeked through the low, mist-laden clouds that hugged the earth.

  The only sound was the crunch of loose gravel under her boots. Wild animals were probably cowering in their underground homes or the holes of trees or logs, but not even an owl hooted overhead. No crickets or insects chirped or buzzed.

  It was as though Melody were the last living person on earth.

  She flipped on the flashlight and stuck it under her arm, shoving her cold hands into her pockets, but that just made her feel as though she were a beacon, a target for anybody from the house who might be watching her, so she turned it off again just as quickly.

  But who would be watching? The property was uninhabited, right?

  Many of Louisiana’s historic plantations conducted tours for visitors and tourists, but there were others that were crude and simple. Definitely not the handsome, well-appointed showpieces that other historic mansions were in other locations of the South.

  A colossal shadow appeared on her left, growing closer. And it wasn’t a grove of trees.

  A faint scent of roses floated on the air. Melody cautiously crossed a waterlogged, mushy lawn toward the fragrance. Roses were usually a sign of a garden.

  Slowing, she snapped on the flashlight again, not wanting to trip over a hose or raised flower bed—or run straight into a gate.

  In the beam of light, flower beds appeared out of the darkness. Empty fountains surrounded her. Broken branches lay strewn everywhere, along with damaged rose bushes and stripped magnolia trees. The storm had come through here, too.

  Melody stepped over a large branch lying across a stone pathway, which led to a brick pathway and then to a second fountain filled with dirty rainwater.

  The sound of rushing water, came from her right, and her heart raced with sudden fear. Had the Mississippi overtaken its banks? Was it flooding and was she in the pathway?

  Picking up her pace, she scanned the yard more closely, trying to get her bearings in relation to the house. Not a second later, she slipped, flailing and extinguishing the flashlight in her arms while tryi
ng to keep her balance, only to land flat on her back in a large mud puddle.

  “Ouch!” she moaned, her backside hurting like the dickens.

  Her jeans were now slick with dripping mud. Great, she was colder and soggier than ever.

  Clutching her backpack, Melody struggled to rise, her feet slipping and sliding in the slick mud. Finally righting herself, she snapped the button on the flashlight again and moved the light around the property, trying to figure out where the house actually sat, even though she was fairly certain it was the looming shadow blocking the clouds—at least from her position on the ground.

  “Could I get any more miserable?” she muttered, gritting her teeth.

  In the beam of the flashlight, the great hulking mansion rose like a sparkling white specter under the dark clouds. The drizzle of rain did nothing to diminish its utter grandeur or pure white color.

  If she hadn’t known better, Melody would have thought the house was floating in the air, but as she focused on the light of her flashlight sweeping back and forth, she spotted the wide half-circular granite steps that rose to a wide front porch and double doors that had to be at least twelve feet in height.

  Melody sucked in a breath. She had never expected a house like this. She assumed the name, White Castle, had to be some sort of inside joke.

  Gigantic, twenty-feet-tall columns graced the front of the mansion and there were at least four floors with attics above the main level.

  The book lover in her, as well as the amateur history lover, desperately hoped there was old furniture stored in those attics as well as family heirlooms from the past. Journals of former inhabitants. Melody suddenly wanted to know everything about this place. Who had originally bought this property, who was the family, and where had they gone?

  Most importantly, what connection did her grandmother Mirry have to this magnificent piece of Southern history?

  Chapter 5

  As Melody approached the house, a sense of déjà vu washed over her, causing her scalp to tingle. Had she ever been here before? Is that what her grandmother was remembering in her delirious fever and illness? Perhaps Mirry’s thoughts were jumbled, the wires of her brain crossed.