Chapter 5
Matt’s knee bounced in tandem with the nervous rhythm he struck on his desk with his pen. He eyed his phone, debating the wisdom of pressing the second button from the top.
Unable to fight the urge, he jabbed at the desk phone, buzzing Carmen’s extension.
“What about the tent company?” he asked. “They know we need two tents, right?”
“Look out your window. They’re erecting the second tent right now.”
He jumped out of his chair and rushed over to the window. Sure enough, a blue-and-white-striped canopy extended across a twenty-by-thirty-five-foot portion of Heritage Park. He noticed a stack of metal poles lying where the other tent was to be erected. A portable stage had been constructed earlier this morning and was now being adorned with royal-blue-and-white silk bunting, the campaign colors Ben had chosen because blue represented power and integrity.
Matt returned to his desk, a small portion of his anxiety appeased now that things were falling into place. It had all become official early last week when he’d filed his statement of candidacy papers at the state-capitol building in Baton Rouge, but it wasn’t until this morning—the day of his official campaign kickoff rally—that it had truly sunk in.
He was in this. There was no turning back now.
Today’s rally was just the start of what would be several weeks of intense campaigning, all leading up to a special election to fill the prematurely vacated District Twelve senate seat. The crowd at this evening’s rally would tell Matt a lot in terms of how much support he could expect from the citizens in and around this area.
He buzzed Carmen again. “What about the cotton candy and popcorn machines? The vendor knows he needs to be here at least an hour before the rally starts, right?” His question was met with silence from the other end of the line. “Carmen?”
His office door swung open.
“Matt, get out of here right now,” Carmen yelled.
He put his hands up in surrender. “I’m just trying to make sure everything is in place.”
Carmen plopped her hands on her hips. “When was the last time the electricity here was cut off, or the office supplies not delivered or the bathroom out of toilet paper?” she snarled. “You don’t have to worry about any of that because I get all that done. That’s my job. Now, get out of this office before you drive me crazy and I’m forced to kill you.”
Matt figured she was only half-joking. “Fine,” he said, rising from behind his desk. “Maybe a walk will help me settle down.”
“Do not step foot in Heritage Park,” Carmen warned. “The people setting up over there don’t need you bugging them.”
“Am I allowed to walk over to Shayla’s place for a latte?” he asked as he followed Carmen out of his office.
“Only if you make it decaf. Caffeine is the last thing you need right now.”
She shot him another nasty look as she sat back at her desk.
“Matt?” Carmen called just as he grabbed the door handle. He turned. “You don’t have anything to be nervous about,” she said, her voice void of its previous bite. “Patrick Carter might be a lifelong politician, but you’re a lifelong Gauthier. The people in this town already know who the best candidate is.”
“Thanks,” he said with a lopsided grin. Carmen always knew just what to say to settle him down. He would probably have driven this law firm into the ground a long time ago if she wasn’t here to keep it running. “You want me to bring you something back from Shayla’s?”
She waved off his offer. “That place is dangerous. You go in there for an innocent cup of coffee and come out with a muffin the size of your head and a thousand-calorie extra-large mocha chai latte something or other.”
“With extra whipped cream,” Matt added with a wink, closing the door behind him.
He headed left down Main Street, looking up into the cloudless, picture-perfect blue sky. Maybe he should look at the beautiful weather as a sign of things to come. How could he bomb at his rally on such a gorgeous day?
A smile drew across his face as he came upon the iron round tables and chairs set up in front of The Jazzy Bean, the new coffee shop that had just opened in the Main Street storefront once occupied by Armant’s Antiques Shop.
“We meet again,” Matt said in greeting.
Tamryn looked up from the yellow legal pad she’d been scribbling on. Matt took full ownership of the immense rush of pleasure he experienced at the sight of her broad, surprised smile.
“Well, good morning,” she said.
He nodded toward the table’s other empty chair. “Do you mind?”
She gestured for him to take a seat. “Be my guest.”
As he sat, Matt eyed the collection of items spread across the table. There were two legal pads, several blocks of colorful sticky notes and an iPad.
“This looks intense,” he remarked.
She expelled a sigh and tossed her pen on the table. “Intense is one way to describe it. Frustrating, nerve-racking. Take your pick of adjectives.”
“You mean all of my wonderful answers to your questions at lunch last week didn’t help?”
“You did,” she said with a grin. “Unfortunately, there are still huge holes in my grandmother’s past, and I just can’t find what I’m looking for.” She huffed out a humorless laugh. “It would help if I knew exactly what I was looking for and if it actually exists. Is it the diary my grandfather talked about? Is there something else?” She ran a frustrated hand through her wavy hair. “Maybe it all really is the stuff of legends.”
She looked over at him, her eyes teeming with raw anguish. “If I have to return to Brimley without evidence of the slave school’s beginnings, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to face my colleagues. So many of them told me I was wasting my time chasing this.”
The jolt of guilt that sliced through Matt was powerful enough to cause a physical ache in his chest. The story she was chasing wasn’t just the stuff of legends. He’d held the proof in his hands.
Last night, he’d gone into his family’s library and pulled out the worn leather-bound diary that had resided in the confines of the hidden wall safe for generations. Within its yellowed, brittle pages were the words of his great-great-aunt, Nicolette Gauthier. It contained a detailed account of the school she and a woman by the name of Adeline Marchand had created. Matt had no doubts that Adeline Marchand was Adeline West.
If only the diary wasn’t also filled with page after page of the horrible acts his family had committed against this town during its earliest days. If only the Gauthier family had not gone on to commit so many more transgressions against the town—transgressions that, if ever brought to light, would be used by his opponent to tear him apart in a political campaign.
For the briefest moment last night, he’d considered setting the diary on fire so that he could finally be free of the secrets it held, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. One of the promises he’d made to his mother was that he would preserve the Gauthier family’s historical artifacts. Why she wanted to do anything for a family that had caused her such grief was beyond him, but Matt could not bring himself to go against one of his mother’s dying wishes.
Matt stared at the exasperation on Tamryn’s face and his guilt tripled. At the moment he hated himself, knowing he possessed the information she needed, yet unable to share it with her. The risk to his future plans was just too great.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be much help,” Matt said. “To make up for it, how about I give you the official tour of downtown Gauthier? I can point out the structures and share what I know about their history. Although I should warn you that I don’t know nearly as much as I probably should, seeing as I’ve lived here my entire life. Like I said before, history isn’t my thing.”
She lifted the insulated paper cup to her lips and sipped
from it. “You actually have time in your busy schedule to spend the afternoon showing me around Gauthier?”
“When you’re the boss you can get away with just about anything.” He winked, then a wry grin curled up the corners of his lips. “And Carmen threatened to kill me if I hung around the office a second longer. I have my official campaign kickoff rally tonight, and it turns out that I’m a bit more nervous than I thought I would be. I figure if I want to keep her as my office manager, it’s best that I get out of her hair for a few hours.”
A knowing glint entered Tamryn’s eyes. “So this date is really more about saving your hide than sharing the history of downtown Gauthier.” Her eyes widened with a look of horror. “I didn’t mean ‘date’ as in a date date.”
God, she was beautiful when she was flustered. Matt leaned across the table and whispered, “But I want you to mean ‘date’ as in a date date. My offer to take you out to dinner still stands.”
The crests of her pronounced cheeks flushed red. It was so easy to make her blush.
“You do realize that I’m in Gauthier to work, don’t you?” Tamryn asked.
Yes, he did. But the more he kept her from doing that work, the less likely she was to run across something that could erupt in a scandal that could end his political career before it fully got off the ground.
“That’s not an excuse. You can’t work 24/7,” he said. “However, you are right about this particular outing. This is definitely not a date date. When I convince you to join me on a real date, you’ll understand the difference.”
Tamryn settled back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “The list must be a mile long,” she murmured.
Matt hitched a brow. “The list?”
“Of all the poor hearts you’ve left broken around Gauthier.”
“I’m not in the business of breaking hearts, Professor West.”
“Go tell that to the ladies in Claudette’s.”
They were interrupted by Shayla Kirkland, owner of The Jazzy Bean Coffee Shop.
“How’s it going, Matt?” Shayla asked. “Today’s the big day, huh?”
“Yes, it is,” Matt said, standing to give her a hug. He’d played basketball with Shayla’s brother, Braylon, back in high school. Braylon had died a few months ago, just after returning from a tour in Afghanistan, and now Shayla was helping her sister-in-law raise his two young daughters.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked.
He pointed to Tamryn’s cup. “What’s in there?”
“Earl Grey tea. No sugar,” Tamryn answered.
Matt’s face scrunched up in a frown. “I don’t think so. Get me one of those thousand-calorie concoctions, with extra shots and double pumps and whipped cream drizzling down the side of the cup.”
“You got it,” Shayla said.
Tamryn shook her head, a huge grin creasing her face. “Aren’t you supposed to be in training to run a 5K? Is a thousand-calorie coffee drink a part of your regimen?”
“Am I getting it wrong?”
“I think so.”
“Maybe you should step in as my trainer. There’s a running path along the wooded area around Belle Maison. I think we should start running together so that we’ll be ready for the 5K.”
“And you called me persistent?”
Matt laughed. “You were.” He folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. “But I’m a lot more persistent than you are, especially when it comes to something I really want.”
“And what is it that you want?” she asked.
“A date. Several dates. Anything you’re willing to offer, as long as it includes getting to know you better.”
Before Tamryn could answer, Shayla returned with his drink. Matt handed her a ten-dollar bill and told her to put the change in the tip jar.
He returned his attention to Tamryn, but Matt couldn’t decipher the expression on her face. His heart thumped in his chest as he awaited her answer. In that moment, he realized that as much as he wanted to keep her away from her work, the desire to satisfy his curiosity about her was just as great.
It was the combination of intelligence, outrageous beauty and that hint of sass that peeked out; it had him practically salivating at the chance to get to know her better.
She flipped over the pages on the legal pad she’d been scribbling on and reached for the red leather messenger bag that she’d taken from her car when he’d first found her stranded the day she arrived in Gauthier.
“I’ll take you up on the tour you offered,” she said, stuffing the tablet, along with the rest of the items, into her bag.
“What about my other offer?”
She averted her eyes, staring across the street. When she brought them back to his, they held a note of apology. “I’m not ready for a date date just yet.” Regret and just a hint of sadness drew across her face. “You’re so different than I thought you would be, Matt, and I’ll probably kick myself for turning you down, but I just...I can’t right now. I came here for a specific purpose, and if I allow myself to get sidetracked again, I’ll never get this book done. I hope you understand.”
He held her gaze for several long moments. “I guess I don’t really have a choice,” he replied. “As long as you understand that I’m not giving up.”
A grin curled up the edges of her lips. “Why am I not surprised?”
The urge to lean over and taste that smile was so strong that Matt had to push himself away from the table before he caved to the impulse. He stood and took hold of the messenger bag, pulling the strap across his body. Then he picked up his coffee and motioned for Tamryn to join him.
The Jazzy Bean occupied the southernmost building along Main Street’s commercial area. As they made their way up the street, Matt pointed out the various retail shops. He told her about the businesses that occupied the buildings and how all had taken on new life after last year’s Underground Railroad discovery put Gauthier on the map and made it a tourist destination for history buffs.
“It’s good to see the boost businesses have received. There aren’t many places like Main Street left around here,” Matt commented.
“Or anywhere,” Tamryn said. “I’d argue that this place was a national treasure even before the discovery in your law office. It’s like stepping back in time.”
“The shop owners go to great pains to preserve the storefronts on Main Street. We all signed a pledge promising to keep up our end of the bargain so that Main Street will look the same for generations to come.”
Tamryn wrapped her arms around herself. “Being a city girl, I have very little experience with a town this small, a community this close-knit. It must have been great growing up here.”
A disgruntled snort escaped him before he had the chance to curb it.
She looked over at him. “It wasn’t?”
“It had its pluses and minuses,” Matt said with a shrug. “Remember when you asked me if there were privileges or obligations to being a Gauthier?” She nodded. “There were many more of the latter. If you carried the Gauthier name, there were certain expectations that you were expected to fulfill.”
Matt pointed across the street to the Gauthier Law Firm.
“My first memory is of walking through the doors of that building when I was three years old. I remember my grandfather picking me up and sitting me on top of his desk. He told me it was going to be my desk someday.”
“And it is,” she mused.
“Still has the smiley face I drew on the very bottom drawer with permanent marker,” he admitted. “I never even thought about being anything but a lawyer or about practicing anywhere but here in Gauthier. My path was laid out for me a long time ago.”
“So you never considered anything else? Even when the rest of your sixth-grade classmates wanted to be firemen, or astronauts, o
r...” She paused, tilted her head to the side. “What other things do sixth-grade boys want to be?”
“I don’t know,” Matt said with a laugh. “Like I said, I’ve known since I was three years old that I was going to be a lawyer.”
“Do you resent it, having your career path laid out for you from such an early age?”
“I used to,” he said. “But then again, I don’t know what else I would have done with my life. I never had the chance to contemplate anything else.” He looked over at her. “Have you always wanted to be a professor?”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “I wanted to be a disc jockey.”
A burst of shocked laughter rushed from his mouth. He hadn’t been expecting that one. “A disc jockey?”
“Yep. When I was younger, I would sit in my bedroom for hours listening to the radio. The disc jockey used to interview all of these celebrities. I was so jealous. It wasn’t until I was much older that I discovered the celebrities were rarely in the studio. They were mostly call-ins.”
He held her hand as they crossed the street in front of the dry cleaner’s.
“So how does a wannabe disc jockey become a history professor?” Matt asked.
“A visit to my great-grandmother’s the summer before my freshman year of high school.” She looked over at him, a wistful smile on her lips. “That summer, my great-grandmother told me about her grandmother, Adeline West. I was completely enthralled. I tried to learn all I could about her, which wasn’t easy, being that internet access was very sparse back then.
“As I researched Adeline’s past, I found myself falling more and more in love with history in general. I ran across so many fascinating women of color who have never made it into the history books.”
“So you decided to write your own.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I felt they needed a voice.” She nudged his arm. “And that was a nice try, but we weren’t done talking about you.”
“We weren’t?”
She shook her head. “I want to know about your move to politics. Was that ordained, too?”
Yours Forever Page 7
