by Lynn Shurr
“If you say so,” Nell conceded. “If you’re sure.”
Nell sat up and turned her head from side to side stretching her neck and making her silver hot pepper earrings dance. “It was a nice day, a good day. Who would have thought watching grown men and women eat hot peppers off paper plates until the sweat ran down their faces would be so diverting?”
“Diverting from what?”
“Things we have to discuss.”
“What things?”A note of instant caution entered Joe’s voice.
“My leave will be up the first week in November. I want to go back to work at least part-time.”
“You want to hire a nanny like Nicole Everard does?” Even in the dark, she could tell he frowned.
“No. Just find a good nursery to use for half a day.”
“You know we haven’t heard the last from Nicole even with the blood test being conclusive. If you don’t stay home with the baby, she’ll use that against us. The house will be finished around Thanksgiving. Would you think about moving to Chapelle and working in Lafayette? There are four or five hospitals up there. Heck, maybe Mintay could use your services at the clinic. Then, my mother or maybe Allie could take care of Deanie. You don’t need the money anymore.”
“It’s not the money. I feel I have something special to offer sick children that will go to waste if I’m a stay-at-home mom.”
“There’s nothing wrong with staying at home with our kids.”
“I’m not pregnant, Joe.”
“I know. I’m getting off to a slow start, kind of like this football season, but give me time. Just let the magic work, Tink, because we’re going all the way, you, me and the team.”
TWENTY-THREE
Bruised and tired after another two-week road trip, the Sinners trudged through the airport. Having won both games, they were still the heroes, but they’d paid a price for the victories. Tampa Bay gave them no trouble, but the Philadelphia Eagles took a chunk out of the team despite their one point loss. Jared Forte with a broken leg might be able to play again if the Sinners reached the playoffs, but their new golden boy running back had pulled a hamstring on top of that. Joe was down two receivers and Connor limped with a slight sprain. At least the Rev, sound as ever, still forced fumbles and interceptions on the other team.
Even though the hour was late, a small group of autograph seekers crowded around the team as they exited the security area. A fresh-faced college boy thrust an envelope Joe’s way.
He started to sign on the back when the kid said, “You’ve just been served, sir. Warrant to appear in family court. Tough game yesterday. Glad you won. Oh, and good luck in court. Hope they let you keep the baby.” He dashed back into the stream of people moving toward the parking garage.
“Nell, could you ask for a few more weeks off until we get this hearing out of the way?” He didn’t want to beg, but he would if necessary for Deanie’s sake. Joe could tell his wife was getting restless cooped up in the condo with a small baby and him on the road so much. Why, she’d even stripped the wallpaper in both the Chinese Bordello and the Love Palace Rooms while he’d been gone. The walls in Deanie’s room glowed with a pale yellow paint job. A frieze of Disney characters paraded around the borders.
At this moment, he had no intention of asking where the Chinese furniture had gone. He only knew it had been replaced with a dresser and large toy chest matching the crib. A teddy bear about as big as the Rev sat in one corner. A large open area for playing had been created where the bed once stood.
As for the Love Palace, well, Gregory thanked Joe for the mirror on his way up to the condo. Nell had paint and fabric swatches spread out on the coffee table awaiting his input. Man, he’d loved that red-flocked wallpaper. Evidently, the fake animal fur throws were keeping the homeless warm down at the shelter. She’d left the round bed but exchanged black sheets for hunter green. He wasn’t going to say a word about it if she’d only agree to stay home with Deanie a little longer.
Nell sighed. Joe hadn’t made any remarks about her efforts to rehabilitate the apartment. He didn’t want to talk about the game. All he desired was a few more weeks of her time. Not as gorgeous as most of his former lovers and probably not as exciting, she could grant the one favor no one else could do for Joe Dean. She raised the phone and called her boss.
“I’d like to claim another six weeks of family leave. Without pay, of course. I understand, but legally you have to grant it to me. Yes, I know how well the new intern is working out. I appreciate it. Thanks again.” Nell disconnected and looked at her husband. “Done.”
By her size and color the judge could have been Althea Alexander’s cousin, but she proved much less susceptible to Joe Dean’s charms. Even though he gave her his best smile, Judge Andrews barely glanced his way.
“We’ve accommodated your schedule Mr. Billodeaux, so let’s get started. It has been proven by means of a blood test that Mr. Billodeaux is the natural father of the child. The mother, Margaret Stutes, is deceased. Why, Ms. Everard, are you disputing the father’s parental rights when he has shown he is willing to take responsibility for his son and has the means to do so?”
Nicole Everard sat alone at her table. She rose, looking as trim, professional, and deadly as always, and kept her eyes on the judge and away from the cluster at the other table made up of two attorneys, Joe and Nell.
“Your honor, as you can see, the mother of Dean Joseph Billodeaux stipulated that I was to act as the baby’s legal guardian should anything happen.”
The judge perused a document in front of her. “This is a contract, Ms. Everard, not a last will and testament. It appears you were to act as Miss Stutes’ attorney in filing a paternity suit against Mr. Billodeaux asking for a substantial amount of child support and a settlement for the mother. You were to receive a percentage of that settlement if successful. Was it your suggestion you be made legal guardian?”
“Of course. The best interests of the child should be pursued despite the deceased status of his mother.”
“But, she didn’t name you guardian on her death bed before witnesses or in a will?”
“No. But, the child still needs my protection. I have also appended several articles from various newspapers and magazines that will give you a good idea of what sort of life Mr. Billodeaux leads. Partying, brawls and his infamous list of hundreds of women, all of whom he intended to have sexual relations with.”
“Not the most reliable of publications, Ms. Everard. What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Billodeaux?”
Used to defending sports figures on every type of unseemly behavior from rape charges to drug arrests, his attorneys sprang to life. “Our client had just completed a six month period of celibacy and sobriety and was merely letting off some steam at the end of the football season. Most of the incidents cited occurred more than a year ago and reflect a period of immaturity passed through by many young men. He has since married and been a model husband and father.”
“I asked Mr. Billodeaux.”
“Yes, ma’am, some of those things are true about me, but having this child has turned my life around. Ask Nell. Ask my wife.”
“Mrs. Billodeaux? You married your husband quite suddenly and your marriage has been of less than three month’s duration. How is it working out for you?”
“Joe has been a devoted father and a good husband, your honor.”
“Their marriage is a sham brought into existence to wrest legal rights to the child without paying a dime to Miss Stutes’ estate.”
“Which you represent.”
“Yes.”
“Is your marriage a sham, Mrs. Billodeaux?”
“Joe and I were seeing each other prior to learning of Deanie’s existence. We parted for a short time because I felt he should consider other women who could give him a family. Because of cancer treatments, I am unable to have children.”
“Our marriage is not a sham. We’ve consummated it more than once, dozens of times…” Joe Dean’s lawyers p
ushed him back into his seat as the judge wagged a finger at him.
“Your potency is not in question, Mr. Billodeaux. Sit down. Are you willing to give up your career as a child psychologist in order to be a mother to an infant conceived out of wedlock by your husband, Mrs. Billodeaux?”
“I have agreed to stay home while Deanie is small, but do wish to resume my career at some time. As a survivor of childhood cancer, I can provide support to my patients that others cannot.”
“Well said. Mrs. Alexander, could we have your report on the conditions in the Billodeaux home?”
Althea Alexander moved from the back of the courtroom to center stage. “Your honor, when I first entered the Billodeaux home, I did notice the father seemed under the weather, you might say. I have since been provided with a doctor’s statement that he suffered from a form of flu. I might have picked it up myself because I was down for a week following my visit. Anyhow, they have provided a clean, even luxurious, place for the child and the baby is well cared for.”
“You saw no signs of the debauchery alleged by Ms. Everard?”
“Well, your honor, I did see one room that seemed to be a sort of bachelor pad, but on a return visit, I noticed this room had undergone a renovation and the baby’s room had been made even more child friendly and inviting. They did keep that lovely place with the blue brocade on the walls for a guest room, though.”
“In your opinion, does the Billodeaux marriage seem stable and likely to last?”
“I noticed Mrs. Billodeaux seemed more at ease in the role of mother and wife since my previous visit. I believe if Mr. Billodeaux can keep it zipped, they have a good chance. Sorry, I meant if he remains faithful.”
“Given his history of past sexual excesses, there is little chance of that, your honor,” Nicole Everard interjected.
“Ms. Everard, what I need to hear from you is what kind of life you would provide for this child. Are you planning on giving up your career in law? Is your husband willing to be a father to this baby?”
“I have two young sons of my own who are cared for by an excellent licensed nanny. My husband is unwilling to assume financial responsibility for Dean Joseph, which is why I will seek a judgment providing child support.”
“In other words, you will continue to practice law and your husband does not want to be a father to the child.”
“Your honor, I would like to present some information that became available only yesterday.” The leaner and hungrier of Joe Dean’s attorneys stalked over to the judge and handed her a sheaf of copies.
“As you can see, Mr. Harry Everard has filed papers for legal separation from his wife, Nicole. Cause given is adultery naming both Joe Dean Billodeaux and his law partner, Jeremy Hait as parties with whom his wife has had sexual relationships. Also,” Leon Wiley continued, “I have here the famous list referred to in some the news articles. You can see Mrs. Everard’s name on the marked page.”
Nell flinched. Joe took her hand and squeezed. He spoke to her in an undertone. “I told them not to use that unless they had to. Sorry. She was one of my list ladies.”
Nicole Everard charged forward and snatched the book. “This isn’t my signature. Compare it to the one on the contract.”
“We have a witness, a Mrs. Iris McNab, who will testify that at an after-hours event, Mrs. Everard ordered her paralegal, Stacey Smits, to sign Mr. Billodeaux’s black book in her stead. The second marker shows the signature of paralegal and they are the same.”
“I notice Ms. Everard’s name is crossed out.”
“Yes, Mr. Billodeaux said he had no desire to sleep with Mrs. Everard again.”
The courtroom crowd snickered. The judge rapped the gavel.
Nicole swore under her breath and seared Joe with an evil glare. Head down, staring at his hand clasped with Nell’s, he tried to remain oblivious to her anger.
“The concierge at Mr. Billodeaux’s condo, Gregory Barker, will swear Mrs. Everard did keep her appointment for a sexual tryst.”
“As riveting and smutty as this is, Mr. Wiley, this is not divorce court and I am not Dr. Phil or even Judge Judy. Put the book away and take these papers with you. What is your current marital status, Ms. Everard?”
“Separated as of yesterday. But, I still have possession of a lovely house and a very good nanny who would see the baby got the finest of care.”
“I am unimpressed with you, Ms. Everard, and with Mr. Billodeaux as potential parents for this child. However, the stepmother seems to be the steadiest of the three of you.”
Leon Wiley waved more papers at the judge. “Your honor, if custody is decided in the Billodeauxs’ favor, they intend to sign adoption papers immediately which would make Nellwyn Billodeaux the legal mother of the child.”
The judge nodded to show she would take this into consideration. “Ms. Everard, you had a legal contract with the birth mother. Her death ends that connection and as she made no other provisions for the child, I award custody of Dean Joseph to the natural father. Mrs. Alexander, your department will continue to monitor the situation in the home. Mr. Billodeaux, grow up. Adjourned.” With a swish of voluminous robes, Judge Andrews left the chambers.
Joe gave Nell a hug that lifted her off her feet. He shook the hands of his lawyers and intercepted Althea Alexander on her way out of the room. “Thank you, thank you for the good report.”
“It was an honest one, but mind what I said, you naughty boy.” Althea gave a significant look at Joe’s crotch. “I’ll be watching.”
“And I’ll be watching, too, Joe,” Nicole snarled as she passed. She stopped and continued her harangue to Joe’s turned back. “You think you can ruin my career and my marriage and get away with it!”
“I didn’t tell Harry.” Joe kept his eyes on Nell.
“No, you dumb coonass, you left both office doors open and he heard every word. You bray like a jackass.”
“The guys tell me they can hear me call the plays over the roar of the crowd, that’s the truth.” Joe took both of Nell’s hands, possibly to keep from striking out.
“After that he had me followed to find out if I was still seeing you and discovered my fling with Jeremy instead. The partnership is broken. We’re all going our separate ways.”
“Not my fault, Nicole.” Joe kept himself turned away from her though every word felt like a sharp stab in the back.
“It’s all your fault. Margaret went on and on about you. How great you were in bed and how hopelessly gullible. I came to your condo out of curiosity. You weren’t that great in the sack, Joe.”
“Well, they say curiosity killed the cat, Nicole. Let’s go, Tink. We have a son to pick up at Granny’s house.”
“Don’t expect to live happily ever after because I will see you won’t. Do you hear me, Joe Dean Billodeaux?” The wicked witch, formerly of Hait, Everard & Everard, shrieked at them.
Joe Dean said a few words under his breath and crossed himself.
TWENTY-FOUR
Nell finished painting the Love Palace a deep hunter green and put up a wallpaper border of burgundy, green and gold paisley. She couldn’t do much about the dark, gold-veined mirror tiles or the black fixtures in the bath short of tearing them out and starting from scratch. She settled on hanging golden towels on the rack and putting a planter with sprawling vines in the bidet. The small high windows over the round tub should provide enough light for greenery and the pot would certainly be easy to water.
Joe had given her another project. “Since you think your taste is better than mine.”
“It is.”
“Why don’t you go over to Chapelle and meet with Miss Ashleigh about decorating the ranch house. She did the mansion for that billionaire so she should be good enough for us. I like to spend my money in Chapelle when I can.”
“If you call a place with six bedrooms and baths and all those pillars a ranch house, you do need my help.”
“What I said.” With that settled, Joe went on the road again.
&nb
sp; Nell called Cassie to see if the girl wanted to ride with her to the ranch and found she had gone already, having been picked up right after school by Bijou. By the time Nell arrived at Nadine’s, Cassie’s overnight bag sat on one of the beds in the room formerly belonging to Lizzie and Izzy and very nearly identical down to the spreads as the bedroom Nell generally used. Naturally, Joe had pushed the twin beds together in the room they shared. Cassie, herself, was over at the training ring weaving a cloverleaf pattern around the barrels in the last light of the autumn day.
“That girl is here every, every weekend. Horse crazy, she is, like Lizzie once upon a time until she discovered boys,” Nadine told Nell.
“There are worse things than being horse crazy, then.” Nell shared a laugh with her mother-in-law.
Saturday, Cassie passed on going with Nell to Miss Ashleigh’s Studio of Interior Design to consider paint chips and carpet samples in favor of more practice on Copperhead who stayed lean and fast. Meanwhile, Fatima and the ponies grew chubby and L.B. enjoyed life as a stud.
“That child,” claimed Nadine, “she never eats, just rides, rides, rides. Packs herself a peanut butter and banana sandwich and a pop, and she’s gone all day wit’ Bijou. Says my food is too spicy for her. Still, she ain’t no trouble. Cassie makes her bed and remembers to take those boots off before she comes in the house.”
Fortunately, Nell and Ashleigh, who wasn’t much older than her, hit it off. Yes, one bedroom could be done with a sunflower motif and the Chinese furniture in storage could be put to use in a guest room with walls the color of old ivory netsuke and the French doors shaded with oriental screens. Ashleigh even knew a dealer who would consider a trade of the erotic pictures for some nice traditional floral brush paintings.
Because construction projects never go off without a hitch, the flooring was not installed in time for Thanksgiving, and the family gathered instead at the outdoor pavilion on a mild November afternoon. The Abbotts had been invited and insisted on bringing the pies, pumpkin, of course, and pecan plus a Mississippi mud concoction and a cherry cheesecake in a graham cracker crust. These offerings joined a fudge cake and a mound of iced brownies made by Eenie’s daughters.
