by Robin Caroll
“My, something smells marvelous.”
Turning, Monique spied an attractive older woman in the doorway. She had to be Felicia’s mother—her bone structure was the same. Yet, she had a hardness around the eyes her daughter didn’t.
“Hey, Mom. This is Monique Harris, new in town. She moved into the old Pittman house.” She nodded at the woman. “Monique, this is my mother, Hattie Trahan.”
“Oh, merciful gracious. I heard about the fire. Bless your heart.” Hattie tsked.
Monique forced a smile and remained silent.
“What caused it? Faulty wiring? That place was older than Methuselah, and Mr. Pittman never did decent upkeep on it.” Hattie moved to work alongside Felicia in bringing dishes to the table.
“No, it wasn’t faulty wiring.” She really didn’t want to have this conversation now. It would lead to the whole reason she’d moved to Lagniappe, and she wasn’t ready for that just yet.
“Oh, what was it then?” Hattie turned toward the living room. “Boys, time to wash up.”
“Yes, ma’am,” came the answering reply.
Hattie faced Monique. “Surely you didn’t leave something on the stove or in the oven, did you?”
“No. I hadn’t even used the appliances. I’d just moved in earlier in the week.”
“Humph. So what caused the fire?” Hattie put her hands on her hips, not moving as she stared at Monique.
“It was arson,” Gary said from the doorway.
Felicia and her mother made a collective gasp—in stereo even. For once, Monique appreciated Gary’s jumping into the conversation.
“Let’s sit down and bless the food first, then maybe Gary or Monique will share the details with us.” Spence took his place at the head of the table.
Everyone joined hands while he offered up grace and then everyone loaded their plates in silence, waiting for someone to explain.
Monique took a bite of the delectable chicken fricassee, chewing slowly to buy some time. Red cayenne exploded in her mouth, putting her taste buds on high alert. But the rich flavor of the roux slid down easily. She reached for her sweet iced tea and took a small sip before clearing her throat. “I knew it was arson, even before the report came back.”
“How?” asked Felicia.
She tried to figure out how best to get the truth out in the open.
Start at the beginning.
“Well, I knew it had to be arson because I got a threatening phone call, oh, four days ago. A man who told me to leave.”
Felicia and Hattie both sucked in air.
“When I woke up to my house burning, I could smell something odd—out of place—so I knew someone had intentionally set my house on fire. Had followed through on the threat.” She swallowed hard and glanced at the deputy. “Gary got confirmation of that yesterday.”
She looked at Felicia and Spence. Shock and surprise registered on both their faces, but not a hint of recognition. Nope, they hadn’t a clue about her connection to this town. To them. No way could they have set up that call.
“I need to back up a minute, though.” She chewed her bottom lip, struggling to pull up a reserve of courage. “I’ve already told Felicia that I was married and lost my husband in a drive-by shooting. Kent was a private investigator—one of the best.”
Felicia leaned forward, ignoring her plate.
“My mother died two years ago, never having told me who my father was. Naturally, with her gone, I wanted a connection. Some sort of family relation.” If only they knew how deeply.
“Of course you did, honey.” Hattie dropped her fork to her plate, sympathy etched into the creases of her face.
Monique took a deep breath and walked them through her husband tracking down her biological father, obtaining a saliva sample for DNA testing and then Monique visiting him in the Oakdale Federal Prison. She shared with them her pain when he denied being her father, even refusing to undergo a paternity test to prove to him she was his daughter.
“That’s awful.” Felicia shook her head. “I’ve been to that prison before and I know how hard it must’ve been for you.”
“I don’t think we should talk about this right now, Felicia. This is about Monique.” Hattie drained her tea.
“Actually, I’d like to know.” Monique stared at Felicia. “Who did you visit in Oakdale?”
“My great-uncle, who murdered my grandfather and my father.” Tears wet her eyes, and Spence laid his hand over hers. She sniffled and continued. “And later, I went to see Senator Mouton, the man who killed my fiancé.”
“Why would you do that?” Monique blurted out. She couldn’t imagine going to see the man who’d killed Kent. Not unless it was to get the truth out of him.
“I needed to forgive him. Really forgive him in my heart.” She smiled at her husband. “So I could move into the future with nothing holding me back.”
“Oh.” Monique dropped her gaze into her lap. Forgive Kent’s murderer? Somehow, she didn’t think she’d ever reach that point in her life.
“I’m sorry for interrupting, please continue.”
Monique stared directly at Felicia. “This is about me, but it’s also about you.” She included Hattie in her gaze. “And you, as well.” Her hands trembled. She clasped them together in her lap.
“What’re you talking about?” asked Spence.
“I’d wanted to wait until your brother was here, too, to explain.” Monique’s eyes implored Felicia.
“Explain what?” Felicia’s tone was even.
“My father, the man I visited in Oakdale…” Monique licked her lips. “My father is Justin Trahan.”
SEVEN
She certainly knew how to get a crowd’s attention. Felicia sat with her mouth gaping. Hattie’s eyes were as big as the full salad bowls sitting on the kitchen table. Spence’s lips formed a tight line. Silence prevailed.
Monique swallowed hard, wishing she hadn’t eaten the spicy meal her cousin had cooked. She glanced at Gary. He, too, sat without speaking, but not a shocked-into-silence quiet. His was more of an understanding-and-waiting-for-the-fallout hush.
All at once, pandemonium erupted in the Bertrand home.
Hattie stood, knocking over her glass. The tea had long since been drunk, but the ice skidded across the table.
“Are you sure?” Spence asked.
“You’re not kidding, yes?” Felicia grabbed at errant ice cubes but focused on Monique’s face.
“Hang on. Just wait a minute. Let her breathe for a moment.” Gary moved to stand next to Monique. She welcomed his warm hand on her shoulder.
“I know it’s a shock. Trust me, it was to me, as well, but I assure you it’s the truth. I have the DNA test results.” She hung her head, her stomach roiling. “Well, I did. They were lost in the fire.”
“It’s not that we don’t believe you, cher, it’s just quite a surprise is all.” Felicia sank into the chair beside her. “I didn’t know Justin had fathered any children.”
“Well, I declare. It’s entirely possible. That cooyon chased after women half his age. Girls, really.” Hattie fanned herself as she sat again. “Used to drive Beau insane.”
“In his defense, I don’t think he ever knew about me.” Monique struggled to keep her emotions in check. “My mother…well, I think she found out he wasn’t exactly interested in becoming a family man, so she never told him.”
“Smart woman.”
“Assez, Mom!” Felicia tossed Hattie a scathing look before shifting her focus back to Monique. “So you surprised Uncle Justin when you went to visit him, yes?”
“Oh, he was surprised all right.” Monique shivered at the memory. His face had turned seven shades of red. Eyes had bugged out. He’d talked so fast he’d splattered the Plexiglas with spittle as he all but yelled that she’d better drop her silly notions of being his daughter. Then he’d hung up the phone and shuffled back to the guard. Rejected by a murderer…she really needed to stop letting other people dictate her emotions.
&nbs
p; “I apologize. He must’ve given you a hard time.” Felicia’s voice soothed. “My great-uncle is many things, but accepting and open aren’t on that list.”
“Hey, don’t apologize. He’s my father.”
And there sat the herd of elephants in the corner.
Silence once again held the room hostage.
Monique waited, counting the long seconds in her head.
Felicia smiled. “No matter how Uncle Justin feels or what he says, you know what this means, yes?”
“W-what?” Monique barely croaked.
“It means you and I are cousins!”
A weight the size of Texas slipped off Monique’s shoulders. “I know. That’s why I moved to Lagniappe. To meet you and your brother.”
Felicia engulfed her in a hug. Not just a glancing hug like telling someone hello, but a real embrace. Monique’s heart would explode any minute now.
Spence moved to her other side and hugged her as soon as Felicia let her go. “Welcome to the family.”
Yes, indeed, her heart was filled to bursting.
Hattie was next for a hug. “Oh, my, yes, honey. Welcome to the family. This is wonderful news.”
“I have a confession to make.” How would Felicia react to the truth? Monique didn’t have a choice—she had to lay everything out. She’d learned after working with Kent that secrets tore families apart. Even secret thoughts and feelings.
Felicia scrunched her brows. “What?”
“After my house burned, I thought maybe you or your brother might have been involved. Might have made that threatening call.” She held her breath, waiting for Felicia to be offended.
“Why would you think such a thing, cher?”
“Oh, for mercy’s sake, Felicia, think about it.” Hattie took her seat and poured herself another glass of tea. “As Justin’s daughter, she could file for half the Trahan estate. That would mean less money for you and Luc.”
Felicia looked at her mother, then Monique. “You can have anything you want. I would never be involved in such a scam.” Hurt flashed in her eyes.
Monique hated that she’d hurt this kind, gentle woman. She laid her hand over Felicia’s. “I know that now. But before I met you…”
“Oh.”
“I think she was a little in shock, too. Her house had, after all, just been torched,” Gary said.
“I don’t want any money or anything. I didn’t come here for that. I came here to meet y’all, and to get to know you and Luc.”
Felicia’s smile warmed. “Regardless, when Luc gets back, he’ll have the attorney split up the estate to make sure you get your share.”
“I don’t want it.” Couldn’t they understand she didn’t need it? Didn’t want anything that belonged to Just—her father. She just wanted a place to belong, a family. People to love who would love her back.
Spence stood and lifted his plate. “Won’t do you any good to argue with her. I know. She always wins.”
Felicia laughed and playfully slapped his thigh. “Shush, you. I’m just always right.”
He chuckled as he carried dishes to the sink. Gary joined him. Monique moved to help, but Felicia pulled her toward the kitchen door. “The guys can handle cleanup duty. I want to talk to you, get to know you.” She glanced at Hattie. “Allons, Mom. Let’s sit a spell out on the veranda.”
Two large wooden rocking chairs bookended the door. A full-size swing hung on one end of the porch. Felicia tugged Monique to the swing. Hattie slipped into the closest rocker.
A breeze drifted across the treated wooden planks. Perfect temperature. Not chilly enough for a coat, but not too warm outside with only a sweater.
“So, what do you do?” Felicia asked once they were settled on the swing.
“Do?”
Hattie chuckled. “She means, as a career.”
“Oh.” Monique hadn’t been ready for that question. “Well, I worked as Kent’s assistant in his private investigation business.”
“Are you licensed?”
“No. Kent was. I only helped him.” Now that she thought about it, she wondered what she wanted to do. So many people pressed her right after his murder to figure out something else to throw herself into. She’d been so focused on seeing his murderer brought to justice, then seeking out her family, that she hadn’t considered what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. Thankfully, Kent had had plenty of life insurance. He’d known he had a high-risk profession, and had wanted to be sure she’d be taken care of, no matter what.
“You’ll work it out.” Felicia smiled, and the day brightened even more. Then she frowned. “Now, tell me about this call.”
Monique shrugged, hoping she came across as casual. “He told me to leave. That was it.”
“I wonder who would do such a thing. Who knew your number?”
“No one. Well, nobody that I knew of. I’d only gotten the phone service turned on the day before.”
“Did you request an unlisted number?”
“I never thought it would be an issue.”
Felicia nodded at her bandaged hands. “Do they hurt much?”
“Not really. I think I can stop wrapping my hands in the next day or so.” She straightened her legs. “It’ll take a few more days for my feet, though.”
Hattie cleared her throat and flicked her palms against her slacks. “You are staying, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I won’t let some freak scare me away.” She’d made up her mind—she’d be reactive no more, only proactive. No more being the victim. Now that she knew her family hadn’t been involved in the threats against her, that meant it had to be someone from her life before she came to Lagniappe. Running wouldn’t get rid of the culprit. It was time to face her fears head-on.
“I’m glad to hear it, but still, it’s not safe for a single woman to have a listed number.” Felicia wore the most intense expression.
Monique smiled. “I’ll get an unlisted number next time.” She smoothed the frayed edges of her bandages. “Wow, now I have to start house hunting all over again.”
“Are you looking to buy?” Hattie straightened in the rocker.
“Yes. Of course, I’ll have to find a place to rent until I can get out and start looking at properties. I can’t stay in the motel much longer.” She shuddered. “It’s not exactly a Sheraton, you know.”
Felicia giggled. “Mais non, that it’s not.”
“You shouldn’t stay at that motel or in a rental at all,” Hattie interjected.
“I have to, Mrs. Trahan. I can’t exactly jump into house hunting. I have to meet with my insurance agent about the fire, file claims, talk with the arson investigator and assist in their investigation as much as I can to find out who’s responsible, plus meet a Realtor I can work with.” The enormity of the tasks ahead nearly suffocated her, but she squared her shoulders and sighed. “All that takes time, and I’m not exactly in top condition to go checking out homes.”
“Oh, I understand all that, honey. And please, call me Hattie. I’m saying you should come stay with me until you find a place.”
“I couldn’t do that.” But she was genuinely touched by the offer.
“Nonsense. Since Felicia got married and moved out, I’m all alone in that big rambling place. It’s lonely.” Hattie tossed her a sad look. “You’d be doing me the favor. I have no one to dote on.”
Monique opened her mouth to protest again.
“She’s right. There’s plenty of room, and honestly, it’s part yours because the house was Grandfather’s and Uncle Justin’s.” Felicia nodded with a little too much emphasis.
“I couldn’t. I don’t want to impose.”
Hattie stood in a blur. “No imposition at all. It’s settled.” She opened the kitchen door. “Spencer, Gary, come on out here. We need your help.”
Monique’s protests went ignored. What was she supposed to do? If she put her foot down and refused, she’d come across as rude and ungrateful. If she accepted, she’d feel like a burden. A final look a
t the determination in both Hattie’s and Felicia’s faces told her resistance would be futile. She’d have to find a place to buy soon.
“Do you really want to go?” Gary took his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at the woman in the passenger seat.
Hattie Trahan had all but ordered him to take Monique back to the motel immediately to gather her things, while she and Felicia went to her house to ready the guest wing.
Monique had been tucked inside his car and they’d been rushed off so quickly, he hadn’t gotten a chance to see if this was what she wanted.
“I know Hattie can be a bit pushy. So if you really don’t want to stay with her, now’s the time to say something. I can run interference for you if you’d like.”
She smiled and his world tilted, in spite of himself. He shouldn’t even have gotten this involved. She was a subject. He was a deputy. End of connection.
Except that little things she did kept running through his mind. Like how she tossed that copper hair of hers over her shoulder. Or how she blew her bangs when she was exasperated. Or chewed her bottom lip when she was nervous.
He shouldn’t notice these things, much less think about them.
“I think it’s nice of her to ask me to stay with her.”
Gary laughed. “Ask? If I know Hattie Trahan, and I do, I think the more appropriate word would be insist.”
She chuckled, as well, the sound of it warm and throaty, sure to haunt his dreams. “Well…seriously, I think it’ll be fine. I can ask her about properties for sale, townspeople, all that local stuff.”
“Oh, Hattie knows everything. That woman gets the gossip before my mother does.”
“Your mother’s a very sweet lady.”
“Yes, she is.” And he couldn’t wait to pamper her as she so sorely deserved. He caught Monique smiling at him. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“No. What’s so amusing?”
“I think it’s really nice how close you and your mom are. It’s rare to see that type of bond these days.”
