Blue couldn’t decide whether to laugh, or to give Alice a piece of his mind. He wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t know what she was doing.
He said in a low voice, “So, no old, married grandmas applied for this job? Only this beautiful, single blond? This is just too convenient.”
“No, sir. But you know it doesn’t matter who it is, so you might as well thank me right now,” Alice whispered. “You could be dealing with a May-December situation.”
“You’re convinced of this and you won’t be unconvinced of it until it doesn’t work,” he said, following her. They were almost caught up with Rose but she seemed engrossed in examining Emily Jane’s tiny fingers.
“But it will.” Alice seemed completely unconcerned with his disapproval.
Blue stage-whispered toward Elizabeth’s ear. “Your mother reads too much romantic poetry.”
“No such thing as too much poetry.” Alice beamed at him.
He started to respond but Elizabeth had reached her limit of contentment and let out a sharp cry. Switching her to another position, he decided to head back to the foyer. Wandering the bookstore was relaxing for him, but pacing the floor with Elizabeth was like sitting in his boat on the river, pole in hand. He wasn’t sure what it was, maybe the mindless walking or that he couldn’t answer his phone but even when she was fussing, he felt himself zone out. Work problems faded away. Some days, if he spent enough time breathing in the smell of old books and new babies, all the stress faded away to almost nothing and he could fall asleep without tossing and turning for hours. They were the antidote to the Blitzkrieg of his daily life.
Blue found his stride across from the Greek classics and settled in to a leisurely pace, Elizabeth held gently against his chest. He never should have returned to Natchitoches. LaFayette had afforded a small buffer between him and his powerful father. Sure, the city leaders in LaFayette extended him every kind of professional and social courtesy because of who his father was, but he could safely beg off from party invitations. No one was there to check up on whether he was truly too busy to attend the mayor’s wife’s garden party. But now, Blue’s every move was noted and his schedule was an open book. More and more often, the day ended in conflict, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it.
That morning had started out the usual way, with his normal burst of optimism, followed shortly by the reality of his current situation. His father had popped in, demanded to know how his cases were going and then departed. A person might think that Blue wouldn’t be afraid of a little interference, but it wasn’t just the micromanaging. If he sensed Blue was anything but completely compliant, his father dropped an above average number of threats and references to his family loyalty. And those threats weren’t empty.
His father’s walls were covered with framed photos of him with governors, presidential candidates, even the Pope. He had power that most men only dreamed of and most couldn’t imagine. He had the kind of power that came from knowing everyone’s darkest secrets, and he wasn’t afraid to use it. Time and again, Blue had seen what happened when a person disrespected Lee Chalfant, and he had no desire to be one of them.
Blue had spent the next hour trying to rearrange his cases, and finally decided he needed to get out of his office. The place he’d once felt was his professional destiny, was now looking like a life sentence of balancing on a knife’s edge of ethical issues.
“How’s our little fussbudget today?”
Blue turned to see Bix Beaulieu and his guide dog headed his way. Bix was nearly ninety and almost completely blind, but his bright white hair looked freshly trimmed, his clothes nicely pressed, and his leather shoes gleamed. Bix’s old straw hat and World War Two issue Navy raincoat were hanging neatly on the coat rack by the coffee bar. Even Patty, the golden lab, looked newly bathed and her expression was one of doggerly dignity.
Bix had fought to the last moment to keep driving but it was an act of mercy when the DMV revoked his license several years ago. At first it seemed Bix wouldn’t recover from the loss of his bright green Cadillac, but with his wife Ruby’s encouragement, and Alice’s insistence that he keep working at the bookstore, he’d regrouped quickly.
“Hey, y’all.” Blue didn’t reach out to give Patty a scratch while she was working. “Missy here is her usual self.”
“And where’s Emily Jane? Napping?”
“Nope. Alice has her in the play room. She’s interviewing a nanny.” Blue glanced over Bix’s head but didn’t see any sign of them.
“Have ya met her? What did ya think? I don’t know if this is the right plan of attack, bringin’ a stranger into the family like this. We’ve already got security around all day.”
The security was important for someone like Paul. It would be foolish to have his kids anywhere without bodyguards, as much as Paul was worth. The pair at the front of the store and the pair at the back entrance were inconspicuous, never interfering, ever watchful. Blue knew Paul and Alice hadn’t taken that step lightly. It was hard to live with someone watching you all the time. It was downright unnatural. But a near tragedy a few years ago had made the decision much easier.
He smiled a little at Bix’s military term. Newborn twins certainly demanded some kind of plan. And when one had colic, it was even more important that the division of labor not fall on one person. “They need the security, though. And I’ve met her. I like her. But it doesn’t matter what we think. Alice already made up her mind, probably before she even set eyes on her.”
“Why? She a reader? She like old poetry?” Bix nodded. “Can’t be all bad if she’s a reader.”
Blue shifted Elizabeth a little. “She seems like it. Not sure about the poetry.” He considered mentioning the wariness in Rose’s eyes and the way she seemed to weigh every word before speaking, but decided against it. “And she’s living upstairs.”
Bix threw his head back and let out a long, loud laugh. Customers turned in their direction, curiosity on their faces. Patty cocked her blonde head and stared up at her master with solemn attention. “Don’t fight it, boy. It’s a done deal.”
“Sorry. I believe in free will. I’m not marrying anybody just because of some urban myth.” Blue was half kidding. Mostly serious.
“It’s been two years since Henry. You ain’t been with anybody since then, right?” Bix was legally blind but he seemed to look right into Blue’s heart.
Henry. Gorgeous, brilliant, sweet Henry. The director of the Cane River Creole National Historic Park had come into his life like a whirlwind. They’d only dated a short while, but it was enough. Blue had never met anyone like her. Almost against his will, he’d imagined the rest of their lives together.
But when he’d realized Henry was falling in love with Gideon, another local historian, Blue had managed to encourage her to pursue him. He’d done the right thing, and broken his own heart in the process. When Gideon and Henry married, Blue had left town, telling everyone that he needed to experience a bigger city for a few years. Now, finally, he felt he could come back to Natchitoches and sit across from them at a dinner, or behind them at church, or go to a party at their house, and not feel that sharp pain of unrequited love.
Bix had stopped laughing. “Hey, sorry ‘bout that. I didn’t mean any harm. It’s just that you’re a young, handsome man. I hate for you to waste all your best years. I’m sorry if I brought up any―”
“No, no, it’s fine.” Blue took a breath. “Faulkner says the past is never dead. It’s not even past.”
“Huh.” Bix rubbed his chin. “But Jane Austen says think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure. So, let’s not bring it up again, if you don’t want to.”
He wanted to laugh it off, but there was also a part of him that hadn’t quite settled back into Natchitoches yet. When he was back on his feet, the idea of meeting Henry and Gideon, and witnessing all their happiness, would be a whole lot easier. But maybe Bix was right and not remembering those wonderful few weeks ―and then the crushing pain of rejecti
on― was a better plan. Of course, he wasn’t sure how he could pull off the act of not remembering when he very clearly did.
“Would you like to hold the baby? Seems like she’s calmed down a bit.”
“Well, I sure would.” Bix reached out and Blue carefully placed the baby in Bix’s arms. “Elizabeth is a real good baby. All that cryin’ is just her way of letting off some steam. My daddy would say she was all hat and no cattle.”
Blue said nothing but he thought Elizabeth had plenty of cattle. And lung power.
“Ruby’s thinkin’ about coming around tomorrow afternoon. Said it’s plum rotten of me to come home and tell her how much time I got with the girls. Says I’m hoggin’ the babies.”
Blue laughed but his heart wasn’t quite in it.
“How’s the practice?” Bix said, as if he sensed Blue’s worry.
“Oh, great.” Blue hated offering a canned response but he really couldn’t go into detail. He’d left Natchitoches to get over Henry, but Blue was starting to think seeing his beautiful ex-girlfriend was the least of his worries.
“Nice to be back around family, yeah?” Bix asked. He didn’t wait for an answer.
Family was more important than anything to Blue, but he was afraid being Lee Chalfant’s son was going to be his downfall. Anybody in his father’s ‘good old boys’ network automatically assumed Blue was available when they got into legal trouble. Just this morning Marcus Railpot had dropped off a deposit for retention of his services before Blue had even reviewed the case. He wasn’t even clear on the specifics. He’d only heard rumors, something about a disgruntled secretary out for money. They seemed to think they could just throw money his way and he’d do whatever they asked. In a way, they were right.
Blue straightened up and put on a pleasant smile, even though Bix couldn’t really see him. No moping. Sure, things were a little rocky but the client situation would straighten out in time. If he played nice and did as his father asked, he’d earn a few weeks of peace and quiet. Besides, he didn’t really have any other options.
Chapter Four
One cannot and must not try to erase the past merely
because it does not fit the present.”
― Golda Meir
“We just put in the coloring room last year and it’s been a big hit with the customers,” Alice said.
Rose couldn’t help smiling as she took in the unusual play area. Half of it was filled with a miniature, commercial kitchen. A rather confusing hand-lettered sign over the stove read ‘Cupcake’s Famous Beignets’ and small children were busy stirring invisible ingredients. One little girl stood at attention in front of the oven, as if she were watching the last few minutes of a cake’s progress.
The other half of the play area was harder to define. It looked at first as if the children had colored on the walls, but Rose could see the pattern under the colors. Instead of a room where children could color some pages, the room itself was the picture. The walls and the furniture were all painted with a glossy white, but covered with images from fairy tales. Inside the pictures, geometric patterns swirled. There were several large baskets of dry erase markers in every color imaginable. An older man in a blue tie walked to the entrance to the play area and glanced inside, then stood near the doorway, facing the bookstore. Rose wondered if he was too embarrassed to come in and color. A little blonde boy was busily marking up the walls, coloring in the petals of a large sunflower. A woman with glasses sat next to him, working on the elaborate scales of a mermaid’s tale.
“Where are my crayons, Mama?”
“I threw them away. They were all broken.”
“Can I get a new pack? It’s almost my birthday.” Maybe the big one with the sharpener. Maude had one and it had seven shades of blue.
“You’re too big for that. We’ll save your birthday money and get you some nice church shoes.”
“It’s a little disorienting, isn’t it?”
Rose cleared her throat. “No, I like it.”
“We encourage people to take pictures of their work because we wipe it clean once a week. Paul was worried parents would complain if their kids went home and colored on the walls. But so far, it seems everyone has managed to remember that this is the only place they can color on them,” Alice said.
Rose followed the branches of an oak across the top of one wall. Two little owls seemed to be having a meeting with a large crow. A cat stretched lazily on the branch above them and a magpie watched the group with an unblinking gaze. Rose could see every feather and the veins in the leaves. The detail was incredible.
Aurora walked past, carrying child-sized cookbooks in her arms. Setting them down, she carefully arranged them on a shelf, spines out.
Alice pulled out a chair and motioned for Rose to sit. She hadn’t yet asked about the two years Rose had cared for her sister’s twins, or how Rose felt about tantrums, or how she’d deal with fever or vomiting. Rose watched Alice settle in a chair across from her at the little table and pick up a blue pen. Alice started coloring in the bubbles surrounding a school of small fish and Rose remembered Blue’s ink-stained fingers. Maybe the adults spent time in the coloring room, too. He seemed embarrassed by her question, though, as if he didn’t think coloring was an acceptable hobby for a grown man. She had to admit she found the coloring craze a little odd, but it seemed like people found real joy in it and if he did, then he shouldn’t be ashamed to admit it.
“Should I go talk to Aurora?” They hadn’t exchanged more than a few words. The little girl could hate her.
Alice looked up. “She’s playing. How about we just sit and you can get a feel for the place, see if you’re comfortable.”
Rose shifted in her chair. That must be some kind of test. Maybe Alice thought she’d would take out her cell phone and go on facebook. She tried to relax and forget that she was in an interview. Emily Jane’s eyes were slowly closing with the gentle rocking motion. The baby was definitely the calm one. One striped red sock was falling off and Rose tugged it back up, silently marveling at the miniature ankle and tiny heel.
Alice didn’t say anything more, just focused on her coloring. Rose tried to think of questions to ask her but fear kept her quiet. Maybe the test was to see if she was a talker, or was desperate for attention. She really needed the position. Between the salary and the free housing, she just might dig herself out of the hole she was in at the moment. She dropped her gaze and focused on the baby, admiring the delicate fuzz at her hairline and the nearly invisible eyebrows.
May-December situation. Alice’s words echoed in her head. She and Blue had been whispering but Rose still caught a few snippets. A secret conversation happened over her head, and it made Rose uneasy. Maybe this wasn’t the right job for her after all. She didn’t like being so blatantly cut out of the conversation, especially when it seemed to be about her. Rose felt her hopes sinking and her heart went with it.
If she were honest with herself, the job wasn’t all about the money. Maybe it was weird and selfish and unfair, but she needed to be around babies. They never judged, never brought up the past. It was the only time she could forget what she’d done and how much she’d lost.
Anxiety plagued her waking hours, coupled with the knowledge that she could never make things right. She’d come to terms with the nightmares and the sour taste of regret. It was all so normal and had been for too long. But when she held a baby in her arms, peace slipped into her heart, nudging out the bitterness and anger. When Alice had handed her the baby, Rose had felt her strained muscles relax. There was something about the weight of a little person against her chest that was as good as the antidepressant she took every day.
“Hey, there,” a dark-haired man said from the doorway.
“Come here, sweetie, and meet the nanny,” Alice said. He wore a nice suit, had an open, friendly face, and his eyes seemed assessing but warm.
Rose stood. “It’s not official yet.”
“You won’t take the job?” Alice turned, concern
shadowing her face.
There was no hesitation in her mind. “Of course, but shouldn’t we―”
“Oh, good. So, first things. Let me introduce my husband, Paul.”
He reached out and shook Rose’s hand. “Have you met all the cats?” he asked in Creole.
Rose was starting to think the real test was her ability to speak the Cane River dialect. “Haven’t seen a single one. Should I worry?” she responded.
Paul’s smile widened. Apparently her accent passed the test. “Not at all. Alice must be saving that for last. She doesn’t want to scare you away.”
“So, they’re scarier than colic?” Rose lifted her chin toward the group approaching them. An old man held the handle of a seeing eye dog’s harness with one hand and carried a squawking Elizabeth in the other. Blue walked alongside, a cat in his arms. Paul introduced the older man and said, “Funny, you two are usually the other way around.” He took the baby from Bix and Blue handed him the cat.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, speaking to Rose. “She’s Bix’s favorite. Patty doesn’t like her much. I think it’s mutual.” The seeing eye dog looked distinctly put out.
“Miss Elizabeth as in Gaskell again?” Rose asked. She wondered now whether the baby was named after the cat or the writer.
“As in Bennet.” Bix glanced behind him at a Siamese who let out a lilting yowl. “And here’s Mrs. Bennet. She don’t like to be left out of the excitement.”
“I spy Mr. Darcy.” Blue turned and pointed out a very large black cat crouched at the top of the nearest range. “He guards the romance section. If he hears talk that doesn’t suit him, he’ll get vicious.”
Along the Cane River: Books 1-5 in the Inspirational Cane River Romance Series Page 101
