Tell Me Something Good

by Emery, Lynn

  “I told you he was a bit unusual,” Noel whispered close to her ear.

  “He’s adorable,” Lyrissa whispered back.

  “Thank you, dear,” Augustin said gaily. “You warm an old man’s heart.”

  Lyrissa laughed. “And he’s got the hearing of a twenty- year-old.”

  “This way, children.”

  Augustin climbed the stairs slowly but without faltering once. He led them into a grand room furnished with antiques. Lyrissa gasped when she reached the top of the stairs. Louis XIV chairs and settees upholstered in raw silk filled the sumptuous yet tasteful room. A Persian rug of rich jewel tones of green, ruby red, and sapphire blue covered the floor.

  “I could spend weeks here,” she said with a delighted expression.

  “I just may steal her away, after all, handsome young cousin.” Augustin slapped Noel on the shoulder.

  “You wish.” Noel pretended to frown at him. He watched Lyrissa take her time as she made a circle around the room.

  “So you two are ... together?” Augustin spoke in a soft, discreet tone.

  “Never mind about that,” Noel said. He wanted to shout out how he felt. But he exercised self-control.

  “I see the delicate stages of a new romance. I under-stand completely,” Augustin whispered.

  “Don’t start any gossip. I’m serious, Cousin Augustin.” Noel wore a sober expression to press his point home.

  “You don’t have to worry about me. I can keep a secret.” Augustin nodded and made a gesture as though locking his lips with a key.

  “Like I believe you,” Noel said with a grunt.

  “I found eight items on the list. But...” Lyrissa hesitated before going on, and then pointed to an item written on her sheet. “I don’t see this large painting.”

  “Let’s see.” Augustin took out a pair of reading glasses and put them on.

  “It’s probably on the third floor.” Noel followed him and looked at the list as well.

  “Must be ‘Sunday Stroll.’ The thing is massive. Simply overpowered this room.” Augustin swept a hand around while still reading the list.

  “‘Sunday Stroll,’ sir?” Lyrissa’s voice cracked.

  “You do need something to soothe your throat. I have just the thing. Amaretto.” Augustin started to dart off but was brought up short when Lyrissa yanked on his sleeve.

  “What’s the full name of the painting?” she said.

  “We’ve always called it ‘The Stroll.’ I’m not sure. Remember that dance from the fifties?”

  “What?” Noel and Lyrissa said at the same time. Both blinked at him in confusion.

  “Of course you don’t. Years before you were born.” Augustin hummed a tune and shuffled his feet.

  “Sir, the painting. Who’s the artist?” Lyrissa cut him off by walking in front of him.

  “You’ve broken my rhythm. I can’t move the way I used to. I could really shake a leg.”

  “Focus, Cousin Augustin. We’re talking about the collection, not how you used to party.” Noel shrugged at Lyrissa in apology.

  “The painting—oh, of course.”

  “It’s the largest one listed. I was sure you’d have it,” Lyrissa said.

  Noel wondered at the intensity of her interest. “Is it important?”

  Lyrissa took a deep breath and smiled. “I doubt it. But it would be good to have everything accounted for before the board meeting.”

  “Lord in heaven! I’m not looking forward to that, or your grandmother’s party. People are choosing up sides, from what Julie tells me.”

  “Julie?” Noel frowned at him.

  “I visited the offices the other day. It could use a lot more pizzazz. Scatter a few French colonial tables around, and—”

  “I’m sure it would look nice. About ‘The Stroll,’ sir.” Lyrissa gently nudged him back on the subject of interest to her.

  Augustin sat down heavily in a chair nearby. “Whew! Get me something cold and refreshing, kid.” He gestured to Noel.

  “And non-alcoholic,” Noel added. “You should know better.”

  “It’s come to this, being lectured by an infant.” Augustin fanned his face.

  “Could you describe it?” Lyrissa’s voice was firm.

  “What are we talking about, dear?” Augustin took a large white handkerchief from his pants pocket and wiped his brow.

  “This painting,” Lyrissa said loudly. She jabbed a finger at the list.

  Noel struggled not to laugh at her frustration. On his best day Cousin Augustin had the attention span of a three-year-old. “The one you call ‘The Stroll,’ ” he added to help her out.

  “My brother’s youngest has it,” Cousin Augustin said. “You remember Ersalind, Noel. She lives in that huge house near Covington. It amazes me why she’d want to live there.”

  “Good! We can visit her soon,” Lyrissa said.

  “I think she has it. Or maybe I gave it to my son Kyle for his law office.”

  Lyrissa let out a gust of air like a deflated balloon. “Maybe we can call them tonight.”

  “Kyle is in Atlanta on business. I’m pretty sure he is. And try catching Ersalind at home.” Augustin finished what was left of his martini.

  “But you’re sure one of them has it.” Noel tried to help again.

  “I’m almost sure. You must see this stunning water- color. It was done by an artist who had an affair with Marie Leveau.” Augustin sprang from his chair and out the room.

  “Good Lord!” Lyrissa rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers.

  “Our family tree has a few lovable nuts in it.” Noel smiled as he walked over to her. He massaged her shoulders.

  “It’s like trying to grip a handful of Jell-O.” Lyrissa groaned. “Why couldn’t it just be in the attic or something?”

  “My relatives aren’t known for taking the easy way in anything.” Noel laughed.

  “A news flash,” she retorted.

  “Don’t be too irritated with us. I promise to call my cousins tomorrow.”

  “Fine, fine,” Lyrissa said.

  “First thing in the morning, I swear. Hey, I’ll bet that print really is nice.” Noel tried to soothe her.

  Lyrissa shrugged free of his touch. “Owning a collection like this is a sacred responsibility. What do you people do? Toss it around like second hand junk!”

  “So maybe we could have been a bit more careful” Noel admitted.

  “That’s an understatement. You realize a painting like that could be priceless?” Lyrissa glared at him as though he’d personally thrown it away.

  “You think you know what it is?” Noel came around the chair to face her.

  “No, it’s just... your family has treated these beautiful objects so casually.” Lyrissa grimaced.

  Noel smiled slightly and sat on the sofa across from her. “At least he narrowed it down to one branch of the family.” “You take everything for granted because it’s been handed to you on a silver platter.” Lyrissa stood up and walked around the room.

  “Not everything,” Noel said defensively. “My ancestors worked very hard.”

  “Sure, at snatching up real estate owned by the poor descendants of slaves. Then you collect art as though it’s nothing.” Lyrissa swept her arm out in an arc. “Look at this place.”

  “So we’re crass and a bunch of crooks.” He gazed at her intently.

  “I’m just stating the facts.”

  “We’re not talking about art anymore.” Noel sat for-ward. “It’s the entire Creole sub-culture of racism and classism, isn’t it?”

  “Here we are,” Cousin Augustin burst in wearing a wide smile. He held a framed painting of irises. “Just look at these colors!”

  Noel sat with his hands clenched together. He stared ahead without seeing anything. Lyrissa stood near the window, her back to them both. Augustin glanced at Noel, then Lyrissa, then back to Noel.

  “Nice,” Noel said finally without looking at it.

  “The air in
here is thick with tension. And I missed it!” He looked disappointed.

  Lyrissa whirled around and grabbed her portfolio from the chair where she’d sat. “I’ll document what you have.”

  “Of course,” Augustin said in a quiet, diplomatic tone. “This way, dear.”

  Noel remained behind. He listened as they moved from room to room. Their voices faded in and out, signaling their locations. When they came back, he sat with a glass of white wine in his hand.

  “Changed your mind, eh?” Augustin clapped his shoulder.

  “I needed it,” Noel said and looked at Lyrissa. She avoided his gaze.

  “Hmm.” Augustin gazed at them, and then yawned. “I don’t mean to rush you, but it’s getting close to my bedtime.”

  “Not unless it’s near midnight.” Noel glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s nine-thirty.”

  “I’m trying something new.” Augustin put a hand under Noel’s elbow and guided him from his seat.

  “Sure you are,” Noel said. His eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  “You kids should go to Celestin’s. Perfect spot to spend quiet time and talk things out.” He motioned to Lyrissa and took her arm when she approached.

  “You must have a hot date,” Noel teased.

  “For me to know and you to find out. I’m so glad you came. It was wonderful meeting you, Lyrissa.” Augustin talked fast as they walked.

  “Thank you for letting us come over, Mr. Augustin.” Lyrissa spoke in a stiff formal voice.

  “I was happy to do it, dear. Drive safely. Bye, now.” He ushered them to the door.

  “Bye, Cousin Augustin. I’ll call you later.” Noel turned around to talk to him.

  “Of course. Remember, soft music and dim lights.” Cousin Augustin winked at him and jerked his head as though pointing the way.

  Noel glared at him. “I heard you,” he said tightly.

  “Good night, and thanks again.” Lyrissa gave Augustin a polite nod, and then strode to the car. She was inside and wearing her seatbelt in seconds.

  “I think you owe me an explanation,” Noel said after getting in behind the wheel.

  “No I don’t I’m hired help. As long as I do my job, I don’t owe you anything.”

  “Take the chip off your shoulder, Lyrissa. Stop putting up barriers between us.” Noel did not start the engine.

  “The barriers were up generations ago.” Lyrissa rubbed her forehead. “It’s been a long day and I’ve said too much already.”

  Noel took her hand. “Let’s find a quiet place to talk. Please.”

  They didn’t speak during the short drive. Noel stole glances at her at each stoplight He turned on the compact disc player. Lalah Hathaway sang standards; love ballads that Noel hoped would ease the tension. Lyrissa did not bend at all. She sat rigid as though determined not to ac-knowledge him. Noel sighed inwardly. They finally reached Celestin’s. He parked in the paved lot, but neither of them moved.

  Lyrissa peered at the building. They got out and went inside. Dark stained wood, soft music, and dim lighting made the atmosphere intimate. A tall waiter led them to a table. He took their drink orders and left. They looked at each other for several seconds.

  “Well?” Lyrissa prompted.

  “Well,” Noel replied with a smile.

  “You wanted to talk, so talk.”

  Noel tilted his head to one side and looked at her pro-file. “You had some kind of plan and I wrecked it. Good.”

  Lyrissa blinked rapidly as though trying to think of a comeback. “What?”

  “You had me all figured out, right? You were going to put me in my place and stay away from me.”

  “Oh, right.” Lyrissa glanced away from him.

  “You’re special to me. What can I do to prove it?”

  Noel had never felt such a strong need to be believed. Everything else became insignificant. All his concentration was on her. Lyrissa must have felt the vibrations coming from his body. When she turned to look into his eyes, there was no anger or skepticism. What he saw was a raw need to believe. He kissed her hard. She froze, but only for a moment. Then she relaxed in his arms and returned his kiss hungrily. Noel pulled away only to kiss her forehead, her eyes, her nose and her chin.

  “I want to make love to you right now,” he whispered.

  “Noel, we ...”

  He smothered her words by kissing her again. He drew away and smiled. “No pressure.”

  Lyrissa touched the tips of her fingers to his mouth. “Oh no, you’re being very subtle. We really should—”

  “Take time and get to know each other,” Noel finished for her.

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  “I like football, the Saints disappoint me every year, but I’m still loyal. Blue is my favorite color. I like fishing but don’t get to do it very often. What else?” Noel rubbed his cheek against hers.

  “You keep avoiding the real issue.” Lyrissa pulled away. “I’m not going to play your game.”

  Noel swallowed hard at the chill left when she moved from him. Still he resisted the strong urge to reclaim her warmth. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “I don’t care what your society friends think of me.” She put more distance between them as she spoke.

  “Sounds good,” Noel answered cautiously. He knew there was more.

  “Your family is no problem. I mean, we’re only dating.” Lyrissa spoke in a practical tone.

  “Okay,” Noel said slowly. He didn’t like the temporary way she made it sound but let her go on.

  “So like I said, we don’t need to generate drama. Let’s date, talk, and...” Lyrissa shrugged.

  “And?” Noel rubbed his fingers along her left arm. He watched goose bumps appear on her skin and wanted to kiss each one.

  “And,” she murmured as she looked at his fingers.

  “Can’t wait to fill in the blank,” Noel whispered close to her ear.

  “Stop that.” She took a deep breath.

  “No,” he said simply.

  She seemed to teeter on the brink of surrender but pulled back at the last moment. “Why are you doing this?”

  “For once I’m not being practical.”

  “Maybe we should be,” Lyrissa said with a solemn expression.

  “Do we want to be practical—or happy?”

  Noel was stunned by how deep that question reached into all his assumptions. His plan to have the “right” wife to fit into a neat picture of the “right” life suddenly seemed empty. Neither of them spoke for a time.

  “I don’t know what to say.” She wore a bewildered expression.

  Noel touched his temple to hers. “Say yes, we’ll be together.”

  “It’s not going to be as easy as you make it seem.”

  “Maybe not. Right now what matters is that we’re together. Let’s go to my apartment,” Noel whispered.

  Lyrissa picked up his hand and moved it. “We’re going to just talk tonight.”

  “I love the sound of your voice.” Noel was not going to play fair.

  “You’ve got a devious streak, you know that?” She gazed at him.

  “Is it working?”

  “Yes, but we’re going to stay here.” Lyrissa did not move.

  “Okay. I’m happy just being with you right now.” Noel put both arms around her.

  They talked for hours.

  Chapter 12

  Lyrissa stood at the door and gritted her teeth. This was the third house she’d been to today. The St. Denis and Ro has clans were getting on her last nerve big time. She’d visited two older women at opposite ends of the city. Each of them had been more eccentric than Cousin Augustin by a mile. Lyrissa was convinced that Noel’s family held the monopoly on nutty behavior. She sighed deeply and steeled herself before she pressed the doorbell. The chimes that followed played the opening song from Phantom of the Opera. Her spirits fell to the ground.

  “Perfect ending to my ‘X-Files’ day,” she muttered.

  Five minutes ticke
d by. Part of her was relieved, the other irritated. She’d called Victorine St. Denis Vivant and made an appointment. Ms. Vivant had sounded relatively sane on the phone two days earlier, but that didn’t mean a thing with this bunch. Lyrissa’s jaw ached from clenching her teeth all day. Maybe this was a sign. She’d managed not to assault anyone verbally until now. God might be telling her to quit while she was ahead.

  She turned to leave when she heard locks click. The door creaked open two inches. A pair of pretty gray-green eyes peeked around the edge. The shapely brows arched and the door swung open.

  “You must be Miss Rideau. Hmm, I know your family background. Genealogy is my passion. One of many.” The tall woman spoke in a familiar way, as though they were picking up a conversation.

  “Miss Vivant?” Lyrissa knew her day was going to end as it had started when the woman nodded eagerly.

  “Call me Vic, everyone does. Let’s not stand on formality. So you want to see the art—what am I thinking? Come in, darlin’.”

  Vic stood at least five feet nine in flat ballet shoes that were bright red. They matched the silk tank shirt she wore over white Capri pants. Lyrissa knew from Cousin Augustin and Noel that Vic was forty-seven. Yet she appeared to be at least ten years younger. Her skin looked like smooth condensed milk. A mass of dark curls were piled high on her head. Lyrissa noticed she held a wine glass in her left hand. Could this day get worse? Vic chattered on, oblivious to the fact that her visitor only nodded occasionally. Lyrissa tried to break her rhythm three times before succeeding.

  “Excuse me, Vic. Vic, excuse me!” Lyrissa raised her voice until she had her attention.

  Vic blinked rapidly at her and smiled. “Yes, darlin’?” “I’ll just check this list and then get out of your way.”

  “Don’t rush yourself, sugar. My evening is free for once. We can start in the sun room.” She hooked one long arm through Lyrissa’s and tugged her along.

  “Oh, good.” Lyrissa spoke through a tight smile that stretched her face to the limit.

  “Rideau, the name dates back to the late 1790s, I believe. Or is it earlier? Quite prominent, too.” Vic halted suddenly, causing Lyrissa to stumble.

  “What’s wrong?” Lyrissa dreaded her answer. Was this woman going to take weird behavior to new heights?