by Lynn Shurr
Remy had said those same words to the dead man’s face. Awful the rest of the family felt the same. He found himself offering the manly hug favored by his family, as he had no words of consolation. “If you ever want to retire to Black Diamonds, say the word.”
Slick shook his head. “Broussards don’t retire. Someone got to run the Barn and all the other stuff. I’m next in line, and my daddy’s ticker ain’t so good. I imagine I’ll be taking over sooner rather than later. I appreciate you came, and we settled this.”
“Me too.”
Slick ground out his cigarette in an urn filled with wilted impatiens and returned to the viewing. Remy decided against going to the hour-long funeral Mass, the cemetery, the reception at Slick’s house afterwards. He got in his truck and returned to the Black Box to change his clothes. Julia, of course, had gone to work.
Chapter Forty
Remy found Julia and her crew patching cracks in the ballroom. Todd worked nearest the large entry doors. “She’s been waiting for you,” he said in a surly voice. Obviously, the apprentice still had a big chip on his shoulder, probably one made out of plaster. Todd frowned as Jules put aside her work and rushed to take Remy’s hands.
“How did it go with the Broussards? You look good on the outside. No internal damage, I hope.”
“No, I’m square with Slick and the rest of the family. No more troubles for us or the Queen.”
“Great! We finished running the new channel iron, but I wanted to wait until you were here to place the replica coffers and see how they fit.”
“A big moment.”
“You bet it is. Just watch.” She moved to the far side of the scaffold positioned under two gaps in the ornate ceiling and climbed to the top with confidence.
“Lifeline,” both Remy and Todd prompted.
She laughed and shook her head, but clipped the line around her waist, and fastened the other end to the guard rail. “Todd, send up the first coffer.”
Her apprentice raised the precious object slowly, carefully, into Julia’s hands. She maneuvered it onto one of the ties. “See that! Fits as tight as a lady’s white kid glove. We’ll point the joints later. Todd, give me the next.”
Julia received the second coffer into her capable hands. She walked to the far end of the platform toward the next gap. Todd mimicked her motion, stalking along the base of the scaffold as if Julia might require his help at any moment. Remy took up a position at the end to get a better view. As Julia reached up to tie the coffer to the framework, the platform shifted under her weight. The lifeline zinged along the railing as she dropped through a gap with the scaffolding beneath her buckling in the middle. She dangled fifteen feet above the ballroom floor still holding the coffer to her chest.
“Don’t move!” Todd shouted—and she laughed.
“Where did you think I’d go?”
The apprentice bumped Remy aside. “Release the lifeline. I’ll catch you!”
“No way. You don’t have the muscle.” Remy pushed Todd. “I’ll do it.”
“No, me!”
Sal and Sam moved between them. “This is Jules’ life you’re arguing about. We’ll all catch her.” The scaffold emitted an ominous screech of metal. “Unless you want us to get a ladder or call the fire department?”
“I just want to get down before the whole thing goes.”
“Drop the coffer first,” Remy suggested.
“Nope, we’re coming together.” She wrapped one arm tightly around the plaster square. “Get ready. On the count of three—one, two, three.” Jules released the lifeline and plummeted into four sets of strong arms woven together to make a basket. They lifted her to her feet. Sal relieved her of the weighty coffer and placed it out of harm’s way.
“Jules!” Remy wanted to hold her, make sure every bone her body was okay, but Julia didn’t spare the time for so much as a quiver. She went to examine the scaffold.
“I don’t get it. This is top-notch equipment. We put it together ourselves. It shouldn’t have failed.”
“Yeah, both Sal and me were up there yesterday finishing the channel framework. No problem, and we weigh lots more than Jules.”
“Maybe the Broussards aren’t done sabotaging this project.” Todd’s light eyes looked nearly as wild as NuNu’s before his death. Red spots burned on his pale cheeks.
“Certainly wasn’t NuNu. I saw him in his coffin. About every Broussard in the parish is at the funeral home. Lots of them sat a wake last night. My family may be many things, but when they say we’re good, we are. They keep their word.” Remy dearly wanted to point a finger at Todd, but he’d given a promise to Jules too.
Julia did the pointing. “I asked Todd to check the bolts early this morning since I knew I’d be up there hanging the coffers. We can’t go ahead with the project until we know what caused the accident. Todd said we were ready to go. Were we?” Remy had never seen her blue eyes go so hard, not even when he’d angered her.
Todd’s head drooped. “I-I wanted to be your hero, save you like Remy did the other day. So, I loosened a few of the bolts. I knew where the scaffolding would fail and planned to be there to catch you. Remy got in my way.”
“First of all, Remy didn’t save me from NuNu. We worked together to defeat that scum. Sal and Sam were ready to pounce if he took Remy down. You did your part by calling the police and the ambulance. Today, all of these arms were held out to save me. This isn’t about being a hero, Todd; it’s about teamwork. That’s what gets a project done. I’m going to let you go. You should still have time to enroll for the fall semester and finish your master’s in historic preservation. I think you will excel at it, and you learned a lot this summer. Take that knowledge with you and leave.”
“But, Julia, I realize what I did was stupid. I wanted you to see me as more than an apprentice. Remington Broussard and his family aren’t good enough for you.”
Remy answered him. “I’m aware of that. But, as Julia said, it’s about forming a team you can trust. You failed at that. Only one more thing I want to know—were you responsible for any of the other sabotage around here?”
Evidently, Todd decided to get it all off his narrow chest. “I walked to the Queen one night when Sal told me to cool off and caught NuNu in the act of tagging the building. He dropped the can of spray paint and ran, but I finished the job by adding Remy after the Fuck You and ditched the evidence. I held up the paperwork with the agreement between you and Hartz and jammed the copier, thinking maybe Julia would reconsider working with you if she had more time to go over the details.”
“Todd, I am so disappointed in you.” Jules shook her head. “Get your things out of the motorhome. Sal or Sam will take you to the bus station. We’ll pay your way home. And one last word of advice, never fall in love with your boss.”
Chapter Forty-One
After Todd’s departure, the Bayou Queen project moved ahead as well as any other Remy had supervised, which is to say they found new problems that had to be fixed, some sub-contractors fell behind and held up others from completing their work, fixtures didn’t arrive on time, etc. Still, with Julia’s amazing efficiency and contacts, he thought May instead of June for the opening.
In the Black Box, their experiment in living together went about the same. He and Julia had some small squabbles and jockeyed for drawer and closet space when she moved more of her things from New Orleans. They survived a formal Christmas Eve dinner in Mandeville with his family, then crossed the causeway and celebrated Christmas Day with hers. All of this stress was offset by amazing sex and the feeling of moving forward toward a completion that wasn’t purely physical.
Remy pondered when to make his next move and spent some time researching Italian wedding customs. Number One on the internet list: gain the permission of the bride’s father to seek her hand in marriage. That meant approaching Sal and Sammy with his honorable intentions one evening when Julia went to New Orleans to check on some other projects in the works for Regal Restorations. On a Satu
rday early in February when the first hints of spring color showed in a spurt of wildflowers along ditches and a pleasant warmth filled the air, he invited them over for a cookout on the deck. Once the uncles downed a few beers and mellowed some, Remy turned with the grill fork in his hand, the thick-cut steaks sizzling behind him, to say his carefully rehearsed words.
“I love and admire your niece, Julia, and would like to ask for permission to seek her hand in marriage.”
Sal squeezed his beer can so hard suds surged from the top. Sammy slapped the bare, hairy knee exposed by his Bermuda shorts. Remy held the grill fork in a defensive position, tines out—until both men burst out laughing until tears ran down their broad faces.
Once they caught their breath, Sal said, “Have you asked Jules yet?”
“No. I read up on your customs and thought I should speak to you first.”
That set off another round of chortles. Sammy wiped his eyes on the hem of his purple and gold T-shirt. “Our customs, that’s hilarious. This ain’t the Old Country. I sure hope your proposal is more romantic. If you want, I could coach you. I’m good with the ladies.”
Sal slurped some beer to clear his throat. “Better not tell Jules you asked us first, or she’ll move back into the motorhome again. We’ll have to hear over and over how her personal life is none of our business.”
“A little clarification needed. Do I have your consent?”
“Oh, hell yes. We seen this coming months ago. You’re kinda slow off the mark. If fighting NuNu for her life—which was pretty damn impressive—didn’t do it, nothing will. You shoulda asked her right after that, but Jules has a mind all her own. You not only got our permission. We wish you all the luck in the world. Pay attention to those steaks now. I like mine medium rare, not charred clear through. Wine, we should have wine to toast your upcoming nuptials,” Sal suggested.
“I have some upstairs. So, you think she’ll say yes.”
No gaffaws this time. “Can’t tell with Jules,” Sammy admitted.
“I’ve been concerned about her last words to Todd—about not falling love with your boss. Technically, I’m her boss right now.”
“Yeah, I almost felt sorry for that poor jerk. Todd had a real talent for plasterwork and threw it all away for a dame, even if Jules is the best. He cried on the way to the bus station. Anyhow, I wouldn’t wait, my friend. While you’re finishing this project another Todd with lots more sense could come along and make an offer.” Sal chugged the last of his dented can of beer and flattened it under his heel, not a gesture that gave Remy confidence.
Sammy—possibly the more sensitive of the two—stepped up with a plasterer’s hawk load of encouragement. “But her mama loves you. That helps. She’s staying over with her tonight. I know Katie will be filling her ears with your praises. You made an impression at Christmas.”
“Yeah, complimented her mom’s cooking and didn’t get drunk. Brought her that little present, the framed sketch of Julia you did, and helped with the dishes when you should have been sitting among the men watching sports and swilling wine. You’re a little wussy sometimes for my taste, but I ain’t marrying you.”
“Come on, Sal, give the guy a break. He held off a hunting knife with a trowel—a goddamned trowel—and killed the guy with it. Remy can cover my back in a bar fight any night.”
“I’d like to think I’m a twenty-first century kind of man, not a Neanderthal. Let me get that wine.” Remy flipped the steaks and turned the fork over to the other men who started debating which had the most Neanderthal blood.
Killing a man didn’t make him a hero, made him a little sick inside in fact, but he’d do it again to save Julia. Life without her seemed more and more impossible, but her answer to his proposal came with no guarantee. She hadn’t been in any rush to move into the Black Box. Could be she wanted out when the project came to an end.
Remy ran up the flight of stairs, retrieved the bottle of robust red, glasses, and one other item. By the time he returned, they’d decided Sammy had more caveman blood because who ever heard of a bald Neanderthal like Sal?
“Take a look at this while I plate the steaks.” Remy turned over his design for an engagement ring for their approval. “I think I was supposed to show you the ring first, but it’s taking a little longer than I figured.”
Sal and Sammy studied the sketch. “Hey, that’s an egg and dart pattern on the band with a rosette center.”
“Julia said that was her favorite type of cornice, the one she chose for the Queen’s rooms too. I plan to put a two-carat diamond in the rosette. A jeweler in New Orleans is working on it right now.”
“Nice,” said Sal.
“Thoughtful,” said Sammy. “When do you plan to give it to her? Valentine’s Day? It’s coming up fast.”
“Too obvious. Maybe the next weekend in a special spot.”
Sal raised his glass. “Here’s to your nozze.”
“My nose?” Remy fingered the small bump in his bridge that he’d had no time to fix.
“Italian for wedding.” The uncles tossed back their wine and smashed Remy’s glasses on the deck. “May you and Jules have as many happy years together as the number of these shards.”
“Lots and lots of shards there. Thank you, I guess. Don’t get up. I’ll fetch a broom. Enjoy your steaks.” Marrying into the Rossi family—obviously going to provide a world of new experiences.
Chapter Forty-Two
The weekend after Valentine’s Day, Julia found herself hiking through a cane field again with Remy. This time, they parked boldly on the road and trudged along with no cover from the tall stalks, all of them harvested for the last time. The deep furrows that once drained the crop rows lay flattened and now sprouted only the wooden stakes outlining the ground for the Black Diamonds development rather than the production of stubble cane. Heavy rain the night before left large puddles behind in the landscape. At least the lane, compacted by years of heavy, high-wheeled tractors, harvesters, and carts sat high and dry.
Remy, unusually quiet on their trek to the mounds, muttered about getting some fill for the low places, but the toads and frogs croaked merrily calling for mates to come out and play.
Julia started a conversation. “Jane has completed her environmental assessment and says as long as you have an adequate and self-contained sewer plant for the development all should be well. In fact, this side of the lake might become healthier without the sprays and pesticides from cane farming running off into the water.”
“Yes, I read the report. Glad to hear it.”
“Great that the Cypress Lake Casino and the Chitimacha Nation are funding the small museum out here. They want it done right. Mostly, the university found lots of potsherds around the base of the mounds. They think all that broken pottery washed down from the top where sacrifices may have been made to the sun god. Nothing inside the mounds, but the radar showed how they were layered up with basketfuls of earth over a period of time. The positioning might have something to do with the solstice too. The gamekeeper out here—he’s the formidable Mrs. Landry’s husband—says if you stand on the east bank and face the mounds on the right day in winter, the rays of the rising sun will hit the gap between them. The cleavage, the kids call it. Interesting, huh?”
“Yeah, I read that report too.” Remy walked on lighting the way with his flashlight as dark closed in on them, early this time of year.
He’d been like this since her return from New Orleans, terse and distracted. This evening, Remy, the ever-cool, seemed nervous, off-balance somehow. Julia thought they’d been doing so well together. Christmas Eve came off all right in the end. She’d met his mother and dad, his sister and brother-in-law, plus the two charming, mischievous blond grandchildren. The kids took some of the edge off the formality of the affair by getting early into the presents piled beneath an interior designer’s dream of a Christmas tree, flocked and covered every square inch by huge ornaments in silver and gold. The boy spilled his milk on the pristine linen tablecl
oth set with a holly-sprigged pattern designed especially for the season and the girl refused to eat the braised Brussels sprouts prepared by a personal chef in the kitchen whose assistant brought dinner out course by course. The minor chaos made her feel more at home like a Rossi Christmas with children underfoot and the occasional dish getting broken as she and her mother always celebrated with Sal and Sammy’s big families, taking turns at each of the houses.
She’d expected Melody Broussard to be upset by the disruptions. So beautiful and reserved, she looked the type. Instead, she said of the children in their booster seats, “How are they going to learn good manners unless they observe them? If they see us eating the sprouts, eventually they will try them.” Their grandmother personally mopped up the spilled milk and brought more from the kitchen. She placed half a Brussel sprout on each of their plates and ignored whether they ate them or not. When the little girl did, but made a face, Melody placed a green mint by her plate to take away the taste. Her brother followed that lead, claimed he liked his, and received two mints for not making a face. A clever family, this branch of the Broussards.
Accompanied by coffee, hot chocolate, and heavily iced ginger cookies for dessert, they opened presents by the tree and beside a gas log glowing in the fireplace. Julia could see as she looked around the room where Remy got his taste for clean, modern designs and reflections in the water as the house sat by the lake and possessed its own large deck and dock visible from floor to ceiling living room windows.
She’d molded pairs of highly detailed plaster of Paris angels for the two women and gilded them herself. For the kids, figurines of sea creatures easy to color with the water-based paints she provided, a hit with the little girl, not so much for the boy, Julia admitted. The men, always a problem to buy for, got excellent bottles of Italian wines and that included Remy. His assortment contained Mondoro Asti Spumante, a sparkling wine that paired well with chocolate, just in case they had something big to celebrate.
