The Lyon Legacy

by Peg Sutherland

  “Enough talk, wife. What I hear is a great big bed calling our names.”

  Gabrielle didn’t argue. She welcomed any and every opportunity to make love with her husband. The business, while important, no longer held top billing in her life. She was quite content to split her day between her growing family and WDIX-TV. André didn’t know it yet, but her plans for the future included time off for another baby.

  But perhaps she was getting ahead of herself....

  André’s hands slid up under her nightgown. His kiss chased all thoughts right out of her head. Except one that lingered pleasantly. She was more than willing to practice this delightful activity with André—especially if the result was a son to carry on the Lyon name. A son who’d be a descendant of Paul Lyon. Surely then this senseless family feud would stop.

  Wouldn’t it?

  GOLDEN ANNIVERSARY

  Ruth Jean Dale

  CHAPTER ONE

  Early December 1998

  LESLIE VILLIEUX LYON would rather be doing almost anything else at this particular moment. Facing a root canal or a firing squad leaped immediately to mind. Those choices were quickly followed by many more as she played mind games with herself in an attempt to deny the obvious: she was about to be trotted out and put on public display for no other reason than her mother had married into a powerful family.

  She’d rather eat liver or do without butter-pecan ice cream. She’d rather be an old maid—some believed she already was at thirty—than get up in front of all those people and—

  “Leslie, Leslie, think fast!”

  Her little brother’s shriek broke through her dark thoughts, and she looked up to see a small rubber ball hurtle toward her. She caught it automatically and frowned at seven-year-old Andy-Paul, the happy midlife surprise of Leslie’s mother, Gabrielle, and stepfather, André Lyon. The boy’s indecorous display also caught the disapproving notice of several adult Lyons clustered around the WDIX-TV conference room.

  Leslie mustered a strained smile. The boy was so pampered and adored by the entire Lyon clan that it was a wonder he hadn’t grown into a complete brat. Instead, he was a bright, happy child—and young enough to be frequently mistaken for her son, instead of her brother.

  Andy-Paul grabbed for his ball, but she held it beyond his reach, touching pursed lips lightly with a forefinger. “You better calm down or Grandmère will come after you,” she cautioned, wondering how on earth he’d managed to smuggle in a ball.

  With guilty haste, his glance swung to the matriarch of the Lyon family. Margaret Hollander Lyon stood near the boardroom door. As if feeling the weight of his attention, she looked his way.

  Even in her late seventies, Margaret remained regal as a queen. Her snowy-white hair was pulled into a chignon, and her still-slim figure was elegant in one of her trademark navy-blue dresses accented by a string of creamy pearls. Although the chances of her being overly severe with him—even if he was unruly—were nil, Andy-Paul still trembled before her gaze.

  She hadn’t earned the “Iron Margaret” sobriquet for nothing, and in truth, she was almost as intimidating to Leslie as to the boy. Leaning forward, Leslie spoke softly into his ear. “If I get you some pencils and paper, do you think you could sit quietly for five minutes and draw me some pictures while we wait for somebody to get this show on the road?”

  “Sure, Les.” Andy-Paul lived in the same house with his grandmother and was under no illusions about the consequences of her disapproval. “I like to draw. I’ll be good, honest.”

  “You are good, Andy-Paul.” She gave him a quick, affectionate hug. “It’s just that sometimes you get a little rambunctious. Now sit here at the end of the conference table and I’ll be right back.”

  Rounding up paper, pens, pencils and highlighters, Leslie felt her tension, partially dissipated while she concentrated on her little brother, blossom once more. All available Lyons were gathered in this room awaiting the signal to parade into one of the studios for a press conference to announce final plans for the Golden Anniversary of WDIX, set to culminate July 4, 1999. Watching these sacrificial lambs—or such they seemed to Leslie—would be scads of media in a private viewing booth: radio and television reporters not only from New Orleans but from across the Gulf coast.

  The thought that there would be unseen people looking at her on a monitoring screen, as well as in the studio, filled Leslie with a familiar panic, one bordering on terror. Her trepidation went far beyond natural shyness. All her life she’d shunned the limelight, only to have it thrust upon her now in the name of family unity. She knew her parents and grandparents believed she’d long since learned to control her phobia, but in fact she’d merely learned to avoid situations that would cause it.

  By the time she’d settled Andy-Paul down with his drawing supplies, her stomach was clenched in a knot and her hands trembled with nerves. Nothing on earth could make her take part in this sideshow except...love, love for her entire family but especially for her grandparents.

  Margaret and Paul Lyon, still a handsome couple and still very much in love, stood close together talking quietly while they awaited their cue. Leslie saw her grandfather take the hand of the woman he’d married in 1941. Tears sprang to her eyes at the tender gesture. It seemed as if words were no longer needed between them. They had loved for a lifetime. And that, Leslie believed, was as good as it gets.

  Her parents were also present, of course: André, the best stepfather in the world and general manager of WDIX, and Gaby, who wasn’t as active at the television station as she’d been before Andy-Paul’s birth. Her family loyalty remained as strong as ever, though. Gaby and Margaret were as much like mother and daughter as Paul and André were father and son.

  Not perfect, but wonderful caring parents to Leslie, her rebellious sister, Charlotte, and their little brother. Leslie would do almost anything to please them. Today, however, was asking too much.

  Right from the start she hadn’t wanted to share the stage with the rest of the family. She’d tried every way she could think of to worm out of it, but to no avail. Finally she’d resorted to a last desperate argument: she wasn’t a true Lyon, being a Villieux until the age of six when her mother married into the Lyon family, so—

  “None of that,” Margaret had cut her off sharply. “I simply won’t have it, Leslie. This family—including you, young lady—will stand together today and always.”

  Leslie had no choice but to give in.

  Now André turned to look around the room, tall and distinguished despite having just passed his fifty-seventh birthday. “May I have your attention, please? It’s time for us to go into the studio now. I want to remind you all that this is a happy occasion. I urge you to just relax and enjoy it—and look into the camera if you’re called on to speak. The celebration in July will mark a milestone for this station and you all helped make it possible. Take your bows and then we’ll buckle down to make our fiftieth-anniversary celebration something that’ll be remembered in this town until...”

  He paused for effect, his grin so charming that Leslie could well understand the devotion this man inspired. “Folks will remember this as long as there’s a New Orleans or until hell freezes over, whichever comes first. Are you ready?”

  “Ready!” several voices echoed, but Leslie’s was not among them.

  “Then let’s do it.” André opened the door for his parents to lead everyone from the room.

  There was nothing Leslie could do but follow, herding her bright-eyed and eager brother before her. At least kid duty gave her something to think about besides making a total fool of herself.

  Again.

  LESLIE ALWAYS SAW HERSELF as a shrinking violet in a family of roses with more than a few thorns. Sidling into the second row and trying to position herself behind the tallest person, who happened to be Andre, she pasted a smile on her face and tried not to shake too noticeably beneath the glare of the lights.

  Her grandfather took the lead of course. In a deep and sonorous voice
familiar to generations of New Orleaneans, Paul Lyon welcomed those unseen hordes of reporters and station employees and launched into a graceful explanation of the purpose of the news conference. He wasn’t called the Voice of Dixie for nothing, and she was sure he had them in the palm of his hand in the first twenty seconds.

  Licking her lips anxiously, Leslie stole a glance at the sidelines and nearly collapsed. Beyond the set, many WDIX employees lounged around watching the proceedings. Mary Boland, director of engineering, smiled and nodded; blond and predatory Kate Coleman, the ten-o’clock news co-anchor watched with a certain critical detachment on her gorgeous face; and someone else, someone only now moving out of the shadows...

  Leslie caught her breath. Michael McKay had come to WDIX as the director of human resources—what used to be called head of personnel—two years ago; Leslie had been secretly enamored of him for at least one year and eleven months. Now she felt herself melting at the sight of him—or were the lights even hotter than she’d thought?

  Michael was the most beautiful man she’d ever known, but he was even nicer than he was good-looking. More than six feet tall with thick, dark blond hair and eyes as blue as a Louisiana sky, he had a knack for putting those around him at ease while still maintaining the decorum of a true Southern gentleman.

  She adored him from afar while Kate Coleman adored him from just as close as she could get, leaning over to whisper in his ear, putting a hand lightly on his shoulder.

  Paul’s voice mercifully intruded. “At this point, I’d like to introduce the youngest member of our family so you can all see that the future of Lyon Broadcasting will be in the very best of hands. Andrew Paul Lyon is my grandson, the youngest child of my son, André, and his lovely wife, Gabrielle.”

  Leslie guided Andy-Paul forward and the boy went, eager for his moment in the spotlight. The plan called for a quick introduction of the child so that he could be excused before youthful enthusiasm got him into trouble.

  With her responsibilities successfully executed, Leslie found her attention drawn once again to Michael. He’d managed to extricate himself from the clutches of the blond anchor and now stood alone and a little apart from everyone, his eyes on the magnetic master of ceremonies.

  Michael smiled and nodded approvingly, and Leslie had no idea what might have caused him to do so. All she knew was that Michael McKay was the most interesting, most attractive and most appealing man she’d ever met—and she was absolutely certain he’d never look twice at frumpy Leslie Villieux Lyon.

  PAUL LYON WAS a wonder. Watching the old man hold his audience enthralled, Michael felt his admiration increase with every word. This was quite a dog-and-pony show the Lyons were staging. Paul was the perfect family member to pull it off, whipping up excitement and anticipation beyond all reasonable expectations.

  Of course, Paul was only the front man.

  Like everyone else who worked for WDIX, Michael knew of the elderly gentleman’s health problems. He’d had a heart attack or two and his activities had been curtailed for many years. Yet when he swung into action as he did now, he gave an impression of such strength and vigor that it was hard to imagine he wouldn’t live forever.

  Beside him, Margaret steered her grandson off the set. She was the real dynamo, Michael thought. Iron Margaret might not be as well known as her husband outside Lyon Broadcasting, but inside it, she was the legend.

  The Lyons had always seemed like a family united and Michael liked that about them. His own family was both smaller and less committed to unity. His parents and wife were dead, his cousins and aunts and uncles scattered all over the world and his mother-in-law a source of friction, instead of support. Added to that was his current uncertainty about his seven-year-old daughter, Cory.

  His live-in housekeeper, Mrs. Simms, had been with them since they’d returned to New Orleans two years ago. Cory loved her and she returned the compliment, relieving Michael of at least part of the guilt of leaving Cory’s care to others. But now Mrs. Simms’s own daughter was having health problems, and if she didn’t show improvement soon, he was going to lose the best child-care provider he’d ever had to the needs of her own family.

  He didn’t even want to think about that because he had no plan B. What he needed was a wife, not a housekeeper, but everything in him recoiled at the thought. Definitely once burned, twice shy. With an effort, he pulled himself back to the present.

  “...stepped up public appearances by the station’s best-known personalities,” Paul was saying, “plus a series of documentaries tracking the many changes in our city since 1949. We’ll also be launching a literacy initiative. And the pièce de resistance is a gala ball July third and formal ceremonies on the fourth.”

  Michael joined in the applause but found himself unexpectedly jerked from the moment. Looking around, he found Leslie Lyon staring straight at him, a strange look of...yearning on her face.

  Yearning to be tucked away safely in the shadows, instead of standing prisoner in the glare of lights, he was sure. He’d never known a woman as accomplished as she was yet also so shy and self-effacing. Pretty in her own quiet way, she’d be a knockout if she ever chose to go to the trouble. Personally, he didn’t see why she should. She seemed perfectly happy in her own small world—unless or until someone made her go against her nature, as was obviously happening now.

  Making a circle of his thumb and first finger, he lifted his hand just enough for her to notice. You can do this, he mouthed, then saw comprehension dawn on her anxious face, saw the quick sweep of color into her cheeks.

  If he’d ever seen a terminal case of stage fright, this was it. He felt for her, he really did.

  “...INTRODUCE A WOMAN who needs no introduction, the brains behind Lyon Broadcasting and, most especially, WDIX. Margaret, dear, take a bow.”

  Paul’s gallant gesture brought Margaret smiling to the microphone. Nearby, Gaby led enthusiastic applause.

  Leslie’s sigh was a mixture of admiration and defeat Margaret and Gaby were so much alike, both self-confident women who’d succeeded on guts and talent and hard work.

  At one time Leslie had longed to emulate them—she had tried! But she simply didn’t have it in her to mix and mingle and talk and lead. She was far happier with her books and her work as a reference librarian in the city system, although lately she’d begun to long for a family of her own. If only she was more like her confident—some said overconfident—younger sister, Charlotte.

  Margaret’s words intruded on Leslie’s panicky musings. “We hadn’t planned to do this, but we’re going to call upon each member of the family to introduce him or herself and say a few words about his or her part in the upcoming festivities. We’ll begin with my son, André Lyon, station manager of WDIX. André...”

  André stepped up to the mike, graciously accepting the applause.

  Leslie dug her nails in to her palms, hoping the pain would distract her. She would have to introduce herself and say a few words about her part in the upcoming celebration?

  Impossible! She’d die first. She felt like a bug on a pin and fought the anxiety attack that threatened to overwhelm her. She didn’t even want to be singled out, let alone asked to say a few words. How could Grandmère do this to her?

  And then she knew. Because her grandmother thought Leslie at least had a handle on her fear of public speaking. So did Mama, for that matter. Leslie knew she’d brought this on herself by concealing the depth of her aversion, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear.

  This was too much! They couldn’t expect this of her! The very thought of opening her mouth with a roomful of people looking at her while many more judged her on an unseen television monitor was too horrible. She wouldn’t do it. She couldn’t do it, even for family unity.

  André was concluding his presentation. “I’d like you all to welcome back a lady who was one of the movers and shakers of WDIX before she chose motherhood over management. My wife, Gabrielle Lyon.”

  Gaby, completely at ease, s
tepped forward. Did that mean Leslie would be next? Did that mean they were going to shove her to the microphone, clap politely and let her fall flat on her face?

  Gabrielle spoke effortlessly, as if to old and dear friends. “When I first came to WDIX in the late sixties, I never imagined that I would marry the boss’s son and still be here twenty-five years later....”

  Leslie couldn’t concentrate on her mother’s words. Instead, she tried to sidle away, looking for a chance to slip off the set without being noticed. If everyone was watching and listening to Gabrielle as they should be—

  “Ouch! Watch it, Les.”

  “Oh!” She glanced around in a panic at the whispered warning, realizing she’d stepped on someone’s foot. It was Devin Oliver, the handsome stepson of Alain Lyon, who was the son of Charles, Paul’s brother. Dev worked at WDIX as André’s assistant.

  Everybody in the Lyon clan was supposed to work at one or the other of the family endeavors, and most of them did. Leslie and Charlotte were just about the only oddballs, turning down offer after offer, enticement after enticement.

  “Sorry, Dev,” Leslie whispered through clenched teeth. “But I’ve got to get out of here.”

  Concern widened his eyes. “Are you sick?”

  Yes! she wanted to shout. “I...I don’t know. I—”

  He caught her hand in his and squeezed. “Look up and smile,” he whispered.

  “Why? I—”

  “Look up and smile!”

  This was a nightmare, made worse when Gabrielle’s words penetrated. “...happy to present our daughter, Leslie. We’re very proud of her for the role she’ll play in our little family celebration. But I’ll let her tell you about that herself. Leslie?”

  Gabrielle scanned the crowd behind her.

  Leslie couldn’t bear it. She’d turn and walk out of here and never come back. She yanked her hand from Dev’s and was about to bolt. But then for some reason her frantic glance again sought that of Michael McKay.