by Caro LaFever
“You’re crazy, Blanchard.”
“That dog won’t hunt, boy. You know I’m not crazy.” The callused hand lifted, the brown of the nut catching the last glimmer of the sun.
The color reminded him of her hair, reminded him of what he’d lost. “I don’t love her.”
A low chuckle came from his adversary. Before he could move into his truck, the man grabbed his hand and, with careful precision, placed the nut in the center of his palm. “Like I said, this is you.”
“I don’t know what the hell—”
“And Nina is like the sweet confection poured over the pecan.”
A clutch of grief welled in his throat at the image.
Dark eyes lifted, the gaze piercing. “I figured it out after thinking about it for a spell.”
“What?” he croaked.
“Together, you’re like a praline. Sweet and strong. Hard and soft.” The old man nodded, a slow glide of motion. “You complement each other.”
A silence snuck around, enveloping them in a hush. As if a profound truth had been shared. The sweep of the bayou water and the humid liquidity of the air swirled around the truth and the words and them both, making Luc think of the hush of a cathedral right before prayers were answered.
“She might have hurt you,” Bade Blanchard finally ventured. “That doesn’t change the fact.”
“What fact, old man?” He tried to keep his gaze from wavering, but the truth shining from the old eyes was too much to take in. “Spell it out.”
“You’re meant for each other. Don’t mess with Fate.”
Chapter 31
Nina’s temper, one she’d never had to deal with before meeting the saleau, exploded. “Where could he be?”
Both Jeanie and Lali jumped at the sharpness of her voice, while Heni smirked and slid behind the cashier counter. After the festival ended three days ago, there’d actually been money to count. But none of the success she’d dreamed of since opening their shop compensated for the sick feeling in her gut when she plodded back to his empty home.
“You could phone his parents again,” her older sister suggested in a soothing voice. “Maybe he’s finally contacted them.”
“His mother said she’d touch base with me as soon as she heard from him.” Taking her courage in her hand, she’d called his parents the day after the disaster. Not only had she found out it was her mama and papa who’d spilled Luc’s secrets to his mami and popa and several of the shop owners, she’d also realized his parents didn’t blame her like their son did.
“It’s worth a try,” Jeanie pushed, in her typical gentle way.
Though she’d been angry and distraught that her parents had blabbed, she took solace in knowing her sisters hadn’t betrayed her. The sister pact was still tight. Pacing to the front door, she peered out at the sunny street. There was something obscene about the sun shining when she was so miserable. “I know she’d have called if she heard anything.”
For the first couple of days, she’d kept calm. Men were men and needed to sulk on occasion. Even her Paw-Paw tended to sulk when his beer wasn’t cold enough or the fish weren’t biting in the bayou. So she’d figured Luc would sulk and then return to his house. She’d have a chance to explain and apologize, and he’d eventually come around.
But how could she make the man come around if he wasn’t around to begin with?
“I can’t believe he’s let me run El Porras for three straight nights.” Lali shook her head, her curls bouncing. “That’s unheard of. He hasn’t even called to check on the menu and the freshness of the produce.”
Nina’s gaze flew to his restaurant. El Porras looked like it always did—imposing, impressive, yet with a whimsical edge that spoke to the warmth of the man she’d come to love. Nothing appeared wrong, nothing indicated the driving force behind the place was absent.
It hurt her.
To know she’d driven him away from his restaurant, the center of his universe. She knew him well enough to know the house he resided in hadn’t been his home, it had been El Porras. Except hadn’t the last few weeks changed that reality? Hadn’t he found a place in her arms when they laid in his bed? Hadn’t he found a joy and comfort far different than just being a renowned chef?
“Where are you?” she muttered at his restaurant. “Come back.”
Just as she was about to step back, Lilith’s stout figure rounded the corner. Her flowing dress fluttered in the soft September wind, her headdress bobbing as she moved down the street toward the shop.
“Lilith’s coming.”
Her announcement drew a stir from behind her. “I thought she planned on taking this week off,” Jeanie said, puzzlement in her voice. “The festival had drained her, she told me before she left.”
“She stated she hadn’t read so many palms since she’d been a young girl. And we banked enough on that one day not to worry if Lilith took some time off.” Heni shut the cash register drawer in emphasis.
Folding her arms in front of her, Nina took a step back. And another. Because something about the woman’s stance and expression struck her as ferocious, almost feral. Lilith hadn’t been around when all the shit hit the fan with Luc. Actually, all the shit she’d created herself had hit the fan, if a woman wanted to be truthful with herself.
Which Nina usually was.
Even now, when it hurt her heart.
Lali shuffled next to her, staring through the window. “She looks en colère.”
“She looks like she’s going to rip me apart.” Her hurt heart sunk deep into her chest. Because for all the time she’d spent with the older woman, she’d always felt as if Lilith was solidly on her side. Even when she’d had a crazy idea or went off on a tangent.
Lali’s gentle pat on her shoulder didn’t help the growing cloud of guilt ready to shower its displeasure on her. “You didn’t mean to hurt him. You weren’t scheming against him.”
For the last three days, she’d consoled herself with just those words. Running them over and over in her head. She’d pretended to herself she could make this up to him easily. With some lusty sex, a poke to make him laugh, an excellent meal brought from Verti Marte. But something in the way Lilith walked, in the jut of her jaw, told her she’d been fooling herself, and the older woman was here to deliver the truth of the evil she’d done to the man she loved.
The impulse to leave, to run from this confrontation, billowed inside her like a black fog. Yet Nina Blanchard had never been a capo. Never cowardly in her actions or not taking responsibility for her mistakes.
“She loves you,” Lali whispered in her ear. “She won’t be too mean.”
Turning, Nina headed for the antique velveteen sofa that stood right by Lilith’s chair. She sat and waited for the storm hurtling her way.
The front door opened slowly, the creak of the old wood echoing in the suddenly silent shop. Lilith eased herself into the room as only a true New Orleanian would do. A slow, sure shift from one place to another, barely moving the humid air. She came to a sleepy stop in the center of the room.
Her eyes weren’t sleepy, however. They were sharp and narrowed. “You have done a bad thing, bébé.”
Nina thought about objecting to the nickname, but the strong sense of justice ringing in the woman’s words kept her from saying anything. Because she had acted like a child when she’d used Luc’s pain to prove herself to her parents. She had been a baby. The knowledge sunk into her, making her slouch into the sofa.
The older woman glided to her chair and sat, her expression growing grim. “Le prince de la forêt rue has been damaged. Perhaps beyond repair.”
A spark of defiance mixed with abject horror shot down her spine. “No. I can fix this.”
“Can you?” The old woman stared at her. “How?”
She sunk again. “I thought maybe you’d have some ideas.”
A tut-tut was her only response.
Her sisters and Lali didn’t move, their mouths tight, their faces filled with concern and worr
y.
“He loves me,” Nina wailed into the silence. “I know he does.”
“Oui,” Lilith intoned. “And because he gave his heart to you, the pain is worse for him.”
“Dammit.” Tears welled in her eyes, and grief clutched her throat.
Her eternally optimistic soul crouched in a huddle, and for the first time in her life, she contemplated the horrid thought that she couldn’t fix what she’d done wrong. She couldn’t smile and cajole and scheme her way back to being Luc’s love.
Before she broke into a sob, the older woman leaned over to clutch her shaking hand. “It is time, ma chérie.”
The firm touch and the endearment soothed her sorry spirit. “Time for what? Tell me what I should do and I’ll do it.”
“It’s not for me to tell you the secret of love.” Lilith shook her head, bittersweet emotion in her dark eyes. “Each man is different. Each man’s heart must be approached in a unique way.”
“I had his heart.” She sniffled into the handkerchief Jeanie handed her. “I just need to figure out how to get it back.”
“Before you can do that, Nina, it is time you grew into the woman you are meant to be.”
Hurt tinged with irritation filled her voice. “I am a woman.”
“Not the woman you have to be for le prince.” The gnarled hand tightened on hers. “But I believe in you, and your joie de vivre.”
“My joy of life,” she murmured, more to herself than any of the other women encircling her. A tingle of an idea shot up her spine, from her gut to her heart to her brain. “I know.”
“What?” Heni leaned in, curiosity filling her expression.
“You have an idea, don’t you, Boo?”
“Whatever it is,” Lali said, “Luc better be ready.”
Lilith’s eyes grew kind. “There, chérie. You have found the beginning of your path.”
Standing, she shook off her fear and worry. She knew more than anything, she needed courage now. Courage and determination. “I need to go and see Paw-Paw.”
“Here.” Jeanie reached out with her car keys, her face filled with understanding. All three of the girls had always used their grandfather as a touchstone. In times of trouble, the old man always knew the answer. Or at least the start of an answer. “Go right now, Nina. There’s no time to lose.”
Her sister was right. She felt it in her soul. She needed to find her path, grow into who she was meant to be, and find her man before it was too late.
“Lucas Miró told me he owed me one.” The older woman’s gaze turned inward. “I have prayed for this promise to be delivered now for your benefit, Nina.”
“Thanks, Lil.” Clutching her sister’s car keys, she blinked away tears. “I need all the help I can get.”
“Go find your prince, Nina.” Lilith finally gave her a sweet smile. “And make him laugh himself into love once more.”
Nina paced across the street to the parking lot where Jeanie always parked her Jeep. It would take her a few hours to get to Paw-Paw’s cottage and the urge to hurry was almost overwhelming.
“Child.”
The rough, dark call came from the porch of El Porras. It seemed to reach across the cobblestones and wrap around her like a dense rope.
After spending days with him setting up the festival, she knew who called without even having to look. “I have to go right now, Cyrus.”
“Come here, girl.”
Turning in reluctance, she eyed the old man. He hadn’t been sitting out here when she’d looked at Luc’s restaurant before. There’d been nothing to warn her of this coming confrontation. He sat in a straight-backed wooden chair, balanced on its hind legs, leaning on the wall of the restaurant. His narrowed gaze never left her.
“I need to go.”
“You’re going to find Luc, right?”
“Yes,” she said in a clipped tone. “That’s why I’m in a hurry.”
“Nothing good comes from hurrying.” He waved at her. “Come here.”
She had the distinct feeling she didn’t want to hear what he had to say. Cyrus had been cordial every time they’d met before, and she counted him as a new friend, but she knew—his loyalty lay with Luc. She also sensed menace emanating from him at the moment. She’d just received a semi-tongue-lashing from Lilith. Getting a full one from this old man didn’t appeal. “I need to find Luc so I can apologize.”
The olive branch didn’t appear to appease him. “Got something to tell you.”
“Can’t it wait?”
“Nope.”
Standing in the middle of Del Bosque Street, the chattering tourists rambling along the sidewalks, the shop owners going about their daily business, she felt as if she’d stepped into the past, into a time when the French and Spanish and Indians and Creole fought to conquer New Orleans for their own. The old man didn’t move, didn’t wave or sneer, yet his entire presence vibrated with anger.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted.
His brows furrowed.
“I didn’t mean to hurt him.” The confession burned off her tongue. “I was stupid.”
His gaze gentled. “Come here, child.”
Taking heart, she took a couple of steps toward the restaurant. “I love him so much, Cyrus, and I’m going to make it up to him.”
“All right, then.” The chair’s front legs hit the wooden panels of the porch with a thud. “I believe you.”
Stepping under the overhang, she slumped onto another chair. As if this old man had planned this confrontation. Usually, Luc wouldn’t allow any kind of furniture in front of his restaurant. He liked it clean and neat, he’d told her. A fierce sorrow welled inside her. She missed him so much. So very much. Not until this moment had she realized how she’d come to depend on his solid sense of self. How his cleanliness and need for order had subtly brought structure to her own life.
“You’re not like Genia.” Cyrus’s comment cut through her grief. “I saw that the moment I met you.”
“I think that’s a compliment.” She tried for a smile, but the attempt failed.
“Yeah,” he drawled. “It is.”
They both fell silent as a group of tourists ambled by, heading for Mr. Touslare’s bakery.
“Thing is, Luc’s got a tender soul.” The old man shifted in his seat, his expression growing somber. “Knew it even before his wife went off with his best friend.”
A sigh of guilt drifted from her.
“He ain’t one to let on about it, though.”
“I know.” She had known. Yet, she hadn’t thought about it when she was protecting her pride in front of her parents.
“Comes across as gruff and growly, the boy does.” Cyrus shook his head, the steel gray of his hair catching a stray thread of sunlight. “But anyone with a lick of sense can see beneath that.”
“I saw,” she admitted.
“Then, why, girl?” He swung his head around to glare at her. “Why did you—?”
“It was my parents.” Her hands fisted on her lap to keep from punching herself in the face. “They were baiting me about not being good enough for Luc.”
“Not good enough?” The old man hummed in thought. “Families can be the dickens, eh?”
A huff of laughter stuck in her throat. “I guess they can be.”
“But now that you have Luc—”
“I hope I still have him.”
Cyrus glanced over at her, abandoning his contemplation of the street. “Luc’s not one to hold grudges.”
She snorted, disbelief swelling in her, even though it brought with it dread. Because if what she believed to be true was the truth about her love, then she had a hard road ahead of her. “He sure does.”
“Naw, he really doesn’t.”
Giving Cyrus a skeptical look, she decided to keep her mouth shut. If this old man’s words gave her courage and hope… Mais, she needed all the help she could get.
“Think about it.” He clasped his hands on his round belly and went back to staring out at the str
eet. “He might growl and grouch, but when he’s given a chance to strike back, does he?”
The memories flooded into her. The way he’d saved her from Javier, although at the time, he didn’t like her at all. How he’d brought her to his home, grumbling the entire the way and yet, when he had a chance to get rid of her, he didn’t. The way he’d let it go when she’d surprised him by bringing their families together.
“I can see by your face, you take my point.” Cyrus gave her a sly smile. “Don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do.” Hope fluttered inside her belly, making her want to jump out of chair and run to Luc’s side. “I need to find him.”
“You will. It’s fate.”
This time, the laugh escaped. “That’s what I’ve been saying since the moment I met Luc. Still, he doesn’t agree. I don’t think.”
“I see how he looks at you, girl.” The old man’s smile turned into a smirk. “He might want you in his bed, but that’s not the end of it.”
“No?” A whisper of lingering doubt about her ability to be the kind of woman who deserved Luc Miró flittered inside.
“No. He loves you.” Cyrus nodded. “I see it written all over him. That’s why I was so angry at you. Didn’t know if you felt the same, and maybe you didn’t mind betraying him.”
“I love him. And I minded.”
“Good, good.” He nodded again, the move slow and sure. “Then there’s one last thing you need to know.”
“What’s that?” She leaned forward, eager to gain any wisdom from Luc’s friend.
“Your parents, your sisters, your shop.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“Yeah?”
“Nothing should be more important than the love of your life, Nina. Nothing.”
The truth of the statement slid into her like a trickle of golden molasses. She knew he didn’t mean that a woman couldn’t have other interests or proposes. She knew Cyrus meant something deeper and more profound.
There was nothing more important than the love Fate gave you.
Chapter 32
By the time Nina drove down the dusty path leading to her grandfather’s home, she felt as if she could barely breathe. A deep knowing stirred inside, the knowledge she had little time to find her answers and find her love.
