A Second Chance

by Kara Lennox

  She wasn’t so much sad as furious—and when she was angry, she cried. Luc had a probation officer! All this time she’d thought he was hardworking, honest and generous, when he was actually a criminal.

  What was wrong with her? The only two men she’d ever been strongly attracted to were criminals. Did she have some self-destructive streak?

  And Zara! She’d had to accept that her father was a criminal, and now Luc.

  They didn’t give guys with too many traffic tickets a probation officer. Luc must have done something awful, something unspeakable. How had he fooled her? Why had she trusted him?

  Loretta beat and twisted one of her feather pillows until it was an unrecognizable knot. Luc hadn’t fooled just her. He’d taken in the whole town with his good-guy act, ingratiating himself into the community, volunteering to help with the music festival. Didn’t he have an obligation to tell them what he really was?

  Her instincts had warned her to stay away from him, with his easy charm and his mysterious past. She should have listened to them.

  Disillusioned, Loretta gave herself an hour to mourn the loss of her short-lived romance. Then she got up, pulled herself together, washed her face and put some gel in her hair, spiking it severely, telling the world to go to hell. She had to open the bakery before someone noticed she’d been closed for an extended period and started to worry about her.

  She looked awful. Her nose was red and her eyes puffy. But at least she was done crying for the moment. She fixed herself a cup of hot tea and warmed up one of her favorite, butter-laden cinnamon rolls. Then she tackled her list of tasks for the music festival.

  Every person she talked to asked if something was wrong, even people who didn’t know her. She claimed she was coming down with a cold to explain her stuffy nose and scratchy-sounding voice.

  At three o’clock she realized she had orders for Zara’s schoolmates to package, and the bus would be around in half an hour. She zoomed around the bakery and managed to pull everything together just in time.

  Della Roy stepped down from behind the wheel of her bus and handed Loretta five checks and a bundle of cash, trading the payments for six labeled bakery bags. “Loretta, you look awful,” she said. “I mean, gorgeous as always, but kind of puffy.”

  “Cold,” Loretta mumbled.

  Zara tumbled off the bus, studying her mother carefully. “Mama, you do look funny.”

  “I know, sweetie. Thank you, Della. I included some snickerdoodles this time. Let me know if you like them.”

  “Will do. Take care of yourself.”

  The bus pulled away, and Zara took Loretta’s hand as they walked back to the bakery. She asked for a snack, and Loretta silently cut up an apple.

  “Mama, what’s wrong?”

  Loretta pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. Yet another horror—breaking the news to Zara that they would not have anything further to do with Luc Carter.

  Although she didn’t believe in lying to children, she didn’t have the fortitude right now to deal with her daughter’s questions, which she would surely have when she learned the new state of things. “I told you, I’m not feeling well.”

  “Did you take some medicine?”

  “I’ll be fine, honey. Don’t worry.”

  “You could go see Doc. He could give you a shot.”

  Doc no doubt knew everything that was going on with Luc. He’d been spending time at the B and B almost every day since it opened. And yet he’d allowed Luc to hang out with Loretta and Zara, knowing their history.

  Loretta had known Doc her whole life and thought he had better judgment than that. Then again, maybe Luc had fooled Doc, too. He was very good.

  “I’m fine, Zara,” she assured her daughter again. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m the mom, you’re the little girl. I get to worry. You don’t have to.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  She sighed, set Zara’s snack down and joined her at the table. “I know, sweetie. You’re a very caring and concerned person, and that’s good. But you’ll have plenty of chances to worry when you grow up. I just want you to enjoy being a little girl.”

  “I’d rather be a grown-up,” she said candidly. “Then no one could tell me what to do.”

  “I’ll tell you a secret,” Loretta said. “Sometimes, when you’re grown up, you wish someone would tell you what to do.” If some wise person had been looking after Loretta’s interests, maybe they would have told her to be more careful when it came to giving her heart away.

  Her heart. No, it wasn’t that serious. She’d made love with Luc three times and gone out with him once, not counting the trip to New Orleans. She hadn’t had a chance to actually give him her heart. It was all physical at this point; it shouldn’t be that big a deal to walk away now.

  But it was. She had to face the fact it was going to be hard as hell to get over this. She would have a difficult time ever trusting herself when it came to men. Maybe she was meant to be alone.

  “My birthday’s coming up,” Zara said.

  Thank God, a nice, safe topic of conversation. “That’s right, it’s less than a month away.” Loretta had been so fixated on the music festival—and Luc—that she hadn’t given Zara’s birthday a single thought. “Do you have any idea what you might like?”

  “I have lots of ideas, but I think I want a fishing pole.”

  “A fishing pole?” What happened to dolls, and stuffed animals, and all that girlie stuff Zara usually drooled over whenever they went to a toy store?

  “For when I go fishing with Luc.”

  “You’re not going fishing with Luc.” The words were out of Loretta’s mouth, sharp and final, before she had a chance to soften them.

  Zara’s eyes widened. “But you said—”

  “I’ve changed my mind. We really don’t know Luc well enough for you to go fishing with him.”

  “But Kiki goes—”

  “I don’t care what Kiki does.”

  She expected Zara to run crying from the bakery, which was her usual reaction on those rare occasions when Loretta was sharp with her or denied her something she wanted badly. Instead, she studied her mother with unnerving intensity.

  “You’re not being fair.”

  “Life isn’t fair. And the sooner you learn that lesson, the better.”

  Zara pushed her plate away. “Did you and Luc have a fight?”

  Oh, why did her daughter have to be so perceptive? “I can’t talk about it, Zara. You’re going to have to take my word for it for now—Luc Carter is out of our lives.”

  “Why?”

  “You don’t need to know why. Just accept it.” No matter how angry she was with Luc and the secrets he’d kept from her, it wasn’t her place to reveal that he was a criminal. She remembered how painful it was years ago when news of Jim’s arrest for robbing a convenience store had spread all over town like wildfire.

  Now Zara showed her temper. She pushed her chair back so hard she almost toppled it and stomped out of the bakery.

  “Zara, take your backpack—”

  But Zara ignored her. Loretta knew she shouldn’t allow her daughter to show her temper and act disrespectfully, but she was in no mood to correct her. She was still raw with her own anger, and she would probably just make things worse if she tried to talk to Zara now.

  Luc was going to be a sticky subject for weeks to come—for Zara and for Loretta herself. Zara would bounce back, eventually. Loretta wasn’t sure if she ever would.

  CELESTE PUTTERED AROUND her family’s old summer cottage, her mind awash with memories. She’d been a very different person as a young girl. Wealthy, very aware of her own beauty and the power and influence of her family, she’d enjoyed being the center of attention in her social circle.

  A lot of young men had shown interest. The most passionate of them all, the one who’d challenged her the most, was Michel Landry. Although close to her own age, he’d seemed older somehow. More mature, more seasoned than s
o many of the boys she had dated. Perhaps it was the fact he hadn’t come from a privileged background. He’d had to work for a living from the time he was sixteen. He’d also served overseas during World War II, a fate many of her class avoided through various strategies. His years in the service had given him a certain maturity.

  He’d been in love with her, of that she was sure. But he’d also been very aware of the games she played—and he hadn’t fallen for them. Despite his lack of social status, he hadn’t kowtowed to her or indulged her every whim.

  He’d stood up to her, making it very clear that if they were to end up together, she would not be pulling his strings. He’d also been pretty firm about the fact that, once he graduated from medical school, he wanted to open a practice in Indigo rather than New Orleans.

  Although her family had liked Michel, Celeste’s mother had advised her to marry a man of her own class, so that she could maintain her rightful station in New Orleans society. And Celeste herself had decided her life would be easier if she married a man she could control, instead of one who challenged her in every way.

  It was a decision she’d regretted almost every day of her life, but especially recently as she’d watched her daughter and granddaughters fall in love and marry for love.

  When she first got the idea to come to Indigo, she’d told herself it was solely to look after her family’s property and see for herself what Luc was doing with it.

  But deep down, she knew there was more to it. She and Michel had kept in touch over the years, even if it was only to exchange Christmas cards. He’d been hurt when she’d turned down his marriage proposal, but he’d never held her decision against her. And when she’d felt the need to keep tabs on Luc, Michel had been the one she’d turned to.

  She’d been terrified to actually call him on the telephone, her heart racing as she punched in the numbers, just as it had done when she was a teenager. And then she’d heard his voice—rough with age, but still undeniably, unmistakably, Michel Landry, and the years had melted away.

  She’d been shocked to discover he was widowed—for almost three years. She supposed that was when the idea had crept into her mind that the embers of their decades-old romance might be rekindled.

  So now here she was, and Michel had been courting her with the ardency of the young man he’d once been. The years had dissolved as they’d enjoyed cocktails on the veranda every afternoon.

  And then last night…oh, my. She’d had no idea she still had it in her.

  But what to do now?

  She reached into the bottom of the box she’d brought with her from New Orleans and pulled out a small, framed family photo. It wasn’t one that was really appropriate for the display at the opera house because it was a bit blurry. But she’d always loved it.

  It showed a group of young people enjoying drinks—probably mint juleps—on the veranda here at the house, circa the mid-1940s, just after the war. Michel had his arm around her waist, and she was laughing up at him. They looked so in love, it made her heart ache.

  There were no such pictures of herself and Arnaud Robichaux.

  She set the photo on the mantel, along with a couple of other family-oriented pictures. She didn’t think Luc would mind, and she hoped Michel would notice it and remember how close they had once been. Although he’d clearly shown his interest in her recently, he hadn’t said anything about love. Or the future.

  At their age, they couldn’t pussyfoot around. She had to make some decisions about her future—however long or short that might be.

  When she heard the back door open, her heart fluttered like a silly thing. “Hallo, anyone home?”

  Celeste resisted the urge to run to the kitchen, and focused on arranging the photographs. “I’m in the parlor, Michel.” She still didn’t turn to look when she heard his footsteps enter the room, though it was killing her.

  “Luc’s gone to the store in New Iberia to buy groceries, but he should be home soon.”

  “Luc’s not who I came to see, chère. So stop playing coy and give me a proper greeting.”

  “Michel, really.” She tried to sound disapproving, but a renegade giggle gave her away.

  He reached her in three strides and swept her into his arms. “You can’t fool me anymore, Celeste. You want the same thing I want.” He kissed her with much more passion than an eighty-something-year-old man should be able to muster, and she answered with equal ardor, surprising herself yet again.

  But did he want what she wanted? Did he think it was possible to make up for the mistakes she’d made as a young woman and start over? Or was she just an old fool?

  She pulled away from him. “Michel. We have to talk.”

  “If you’re going to tell me we’re too old to mess around, I’m not listening.”

  “No, that isn’t it.”

  At the uncertain tremor in her voice, Michel sobered and led her to the settee. He cupped her face gently in his hand. “What is it, love?” The endearment slipped out easily, and he didn’t seem embarrassed by it.

  Well, if he wasn’t embarrassed by his feelings, then she wouldn’t be, either. For once in her life, she would strike out boldly without being in control, without knowing how it was all going to turn out.

  “Michel, how would you feel about my moving to Indigo?”

  “For how long?”

  “For the rest of my life.”

  There was a long pause. “You want to live here? I thought you loved New Orleans. The excitement of the big city, the theater and opera and ballet, the shopping and—”

  “Those are things I loved as a young woman. But my priorities have changed. I…I was stupid and self-absorbed when I was young. I didn’t know what I was doing. I made a terrible mistake by not marrying you when I had the chance, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

  She was blurting it all out now, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

  Michel drew back, looking almost comically shocked. “Why, Celeste, I never thought I’d see the day you would admit you were wrong about anything.”

  “I’d ask you to stop teasing, but the sad thing is, I know you’re serious. I’ve always thought I knew what was best for everyone. But how could that be true, when I didn’t even know what was best for myself?”

  “You think you do now?”

  “Yes. You’re the best thing for me, Michel. You bring out everything that’s good in me. You don’t let me get away with anything. I want to be with you.”

  For the first time, he looked uncomfortable. Oh, Dieu, was he going to turn her down? Was he going to tell her she was fine for a roll in the hay but he’d rather marry an alligator than her?

  It was probably what she deserved.

  Michel reached into his vest pocket and pulled something out, but he kept it hidden from view. It might have been a breath mint, or just about anything. “When you say you want to be with me…”

  “I want to marry you, silly as that is. But I’d settle for living in sin.”

  “Celeste!”

  “Oh, I don’t care what people think anymore.”

  “You do and you know it.”

  “All right, I suppose I do. But I’m prepared to withstand the gossip.”

  “Let me get this straight. You want to move to Indigo. Permanently. And be my girl, married or not.”

  “That’s about the size of it.” It felt good, she realized, to be perfectly honest. No games, no manipulation, no withholding anything. If he laughed at her, at least she knew she’d tried her very best.

  But he didn’t laugh, and instead extended his hand and opened his fingers to reveal a lovely oval diamond ring. “Then you might be interested in this.”

  She was afraid to touch it, afraid she had misunderstood. It couldn’t be this easy. She gave him a questioning look.

  “I’ve been carrying it around in my pocket since the day you arrived in Indigo, trying to work up the courage to ask you to marry me. It’s the one I bought in 1945, when I asked you to marry me t
he first time. I could have returned it to the jewelry store or sold it, but I never did.”

  “Oh, Michel. I don’t know what to say.”

  He slid off the sofa onto one knee, wincing slightly. “This isn’t as easy as it was the first time, at least not on my knees. Celeste, will you marry me?”

  “Oh, get up, you fool. I already said I would.” She pulled him to his feet, then wrapped her arms around him and wept on his shoulder. It was a good kind of crying, though.

  Michel patted her on the back and smoothed her hair, and after a minute or two, Celeste pulled an embroidered handkerchief out of her sleeve and blotted her eyes, knowing she looked a mess.

  “Shall we elope like a couple of teenagers?”

  “I think that would be the best thing.”

  “Michel, I want to show you something.” She led him back to the mantel and took the photograph down, the one of the two of them on the veranda. “Look at us.”

  “Oh, my, weren’t we a dashing couple.”

  “And so in love. The way we’re looking at each other…”

  “Reminds me of the way Luc and Loretta look at each other,” Michel said. “At first I was skeptical of those two getting together, but now I can see they’re exactly right for each other.”

  “If they don’t ruin things. Oh, Michel, it wouldn’t be fair, us being so happy and the young people so miserable. We have to do something to help.”

  “I don’t know that Loretta is going to soften,” Michel considered, stroking his chin. “She has some mighty powerful reasons not to trust men in general and Luc in particular.”

  “I’ll talk to her. I’ll make her see that she can’t turn her back on love if there’s any chance to make it work.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “MELANIE, COME IN.” Luc opened the door wider to admit his cousin, who’d come to Indigo to check out the facilities and the site of the banquet.

  She looked around with wide eyes. “This place is incredible. I remember coming here once when I was a little girl. The whole house was trashed.”