by Emery, Lynn
“Actually, you might be distantly related to the Bonapartes. You know, Napoleon and Josephine,” she said in an exaggerated French accent.
“I doubt that.” Lyrissa’s anxiety shot up for another reason. This woman was too close to knowing her family origins.
“Hmm.” Vic gave her a head-to-toe appraisal. “Maybe not. There were two branches.”
Lyrissa nodded with relief. “Right, we’re not all related. I have here—”
“Yes. One branch is thought to be descended from the white planter Ribeau. Some stupid clerk at the Cabildo copied it wrong.”
“Really? I didn’t know that”
Lyrissa knew very well about the legend of Francois Ribeau. She could have set Vic straight with the real story. But that would put her back onto Lyrissa’s family, and that wouldn’t do at all.
Vic lifted a shoulder. “My passion, as I said.”
“Yes, fascinating. I understand you have three sculptures and two, possibly three, paintings. I’ll just look at the paintings first.” Lyrissa attempted to take control of the visit.
“Of course. Straight ahead.” Vic marched on, dragging Lyrissa in her wake.
They did not follow a straight line at all. The house was designed to curve around a central courtyard. They walked down a hallway with glass on one side. Late afternoon sun slanted across a green lawn with flowerbeds arranged around stone benches. They entered an enchanting room filled with rattan furniture upholstered in green, yellow, and white. Two large ceiling fans whirred overhead.
“This is a beautiful room. In fact, it’s my dream sun room.” Lyrissa gazed at the gauze draperies pulled back from the windows. The room was cozy without being too cute.
“Thank you, sugar. Glad you like it. Ah! Here’s one of the figures you wanted to see.”
Lyrissa smiled at her genuinely. She liked Vic despite her ditzy manner. At least she could finish the day in lovely surroundings. She put her notebook down and picked up the ceramic figure of a nude female dancer. It was at least three feet tall.
“It looks as though she might move at any moment,” Lyrissa murmured.
“Yes, if we played the right music.” Vic touched the dancer’s head with the tips of her fingers.
“I see you finally made it.” A voice came from beyond the door.
Lyrissa turned to find Julie standing with a glass in her hand as well. What are you doing here? She managed to keep the question to herself.
“Hello.”
“Good afternoon.” Julie drawled the words and man-aged to make Lyrissa feel clumsy. She came into the room.
“ Julie, darlin’, I’m so sorry. Forgot you were in the study. Didn’t I mention Julie was here? Julie Duval, this is—”
“We know each other,” Julie broke in dryly. She looked past Lyrissa.
“Right! Aunt Georgina told me Lyrissa goes to the office. Excellent idea. Noel is totally brilliant.” Vic hugged Lyrissa again.
“It was Miss Georgina’s idea, not Noel’s,” Julie’s said in a snippy tone.
“Was it? Now, why did I think that? Oh, Cousin Augustin said Noel really enjoys working with the lovely— ahem, never mind.” Vic’s eyes widened at the look Julie gave her.
“I understand you’ve been through most of the list,” Julie snapped. Her dark eyes flashed with animosity as she stared at Lyrissa.
“Three-quarters of it so far. Your collection could be the last of it.” Lyrissa tinned to Vic in a deliberate dismissal of Julie.
“I suppose you’ll give us all a report,” Julie said.
“After I consult with Noel and Mrs. St Denis, of course.” Lyrissa spoke over her shoulder. “May I see the rest?”
“Uh, of course, darlin’. Follow me.” Vic’s gray-green eyes sparkled with interest. She glanced between the two young women.
“Thanks.”
Lyrissa smiled and lifted her head as she walked after Vic. Julie brought up the rear. It was as though she meant to keep an eye on Lyrissa.
“I’ve made a study of the collection myself,” Julie said.
“So you know about art and art appraisal?” Lyrissa kept her tone polite and cool.
“My family has collected art for generations as an in-vestment,” Julie replied.
“I see. Not so much for your own pleasure.” Lyrissa’s voice was even.
“We are able to do both, invest and enjoy beauty. We’re like other fine old families in that way,” Julie said.
They walked into a long room with teakwood furniture, Audubon wildlife prints, and royal blue brocade draperies. Lyrissa turned to face Julie. Before she could hurl a suitable reply, Vic spoke.
“My late husband’s study is filled with history. You’ll be in heaven, Lyrissa.” Vic made a full turn with her arms outstretched. “Dripping with old things.”
Lyrissa gazed around the room and forgot about Julie’s attempt to bait her. The prints were wonderful, but on a far wall hung the prize—her own Holy Grail. There in all its splendor was “Sunday Stroll on the Tremé Faubourg.” She stood frozen, in awe. She walked slowly toward it.
“I... I think... that is, I’m sure this is on the list,” Lyrissa stammered. She felt her chest tighten just looking at it.
“It’s lovely,” Julie said.
“Yes, quite nicely done. Here is my favorite!” She strode over to a tall modern sculpture. “It’s called ‘Man-Child’s Promise.’ ”
“That’s not part of the collection, Victorine. Honestly.” Julie frowned at it and then Vic.
“I didn’t say it was. But it’s my favorite all the same.” Vic did not lose her good humor.
Their voices faded as Lyrissa stared at “The Stroll.” Pale blue faded into a deeper one to make the sky. Women in pink, white, and green walked along with heads held high. They were of different shades of brown. Trees in dark green made impressionistic silhouettes against the blue sky. In one corner of the painting was the signature of Jules Joubert Jules had used his sister, his wife, and a cousin as models. Lyrissa felt a connection to the women.
“You seem mesmerized.” Vic walked over and stood next to her. “It is lovely, though, in a quaint, old-world way.”
“Yes, quaint,” Lyrissa said.
“I looked at it earlier. ‘The Stroll’ is its title, I think.” Julie joined them in front of the painting but studied Lyrissa instead.
“Yes, well—I’ll make a note of it and the other pieces.” Lyrissa forced herself to step back. She scribbled.
“It’s not part of the collection, either,” Vic announced in an off-hand manner.
Lyrissa’s head jerked up. “Say what?”
“That painting is mine. Papa gave it to me years ago. I think he said his grandfather left it to him.”
“But that can’t be! I have a painting of its general description on the list.” Lyrissa flipped pages.
“Let me see. I have my own copy right here. A twenty- four by thirty-six painting, nineteenth century, women walking in the park,” Julie read aloud.
“Maybe I’m wrong. Besides, I think it’s a reproduction,” Vic said. “Anyone for iced tea?”
Lyrissa reeled from her words. “I’m sure this painting is authentic.”
“No, dear heart Papa told me all about it. Don’t worry, no caffeine. It’s raspberry orange herbal tea.” Vic brightly changed subjects.
“Ms. Vivant—”
“Ah, ah, you better call me Vic, or no treat for you.” Vic wagged a finger with deep red lacquer on the nail.
“Vic, I know paintings, and this one can’t be a reproduction.” Lyrissa’s throat tightened at the thought.
“I’m telling you what Papa said. He was furious when he found out it was a fake. You see, my great-grandfather was—well, not so honest.” Vic’s eyes twinkled. She didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed.
“I really don’t think you should go into family affairs.” Julie’s glance slid sideways briefly and she nodded at Lyrissa.
“Don’t be silly, it’s a well-known fac
t. Besides, the old rascal has been dead for a good sixty years.” Vic laughed and walked through the door. “Come on, girls. Tea is waiting.”
Lyrissa started after her, but Julie cut her off. Both women went down a long hall that entered a wide gourmet kitchen. A skylight let in sunshine. The kitchen opened onto a large family room with a big-screen television and furniture in cool blues and greens. At any other time Lyrissa would have taken time to admire it. She hardly noticed the elegance of it.
“Vic, I’m sure you’re mistaken. Do you have any kind of documents? Mrs. St. Denis is certain she lent your father this painting.” Lyrissa tried to keep her voice calm.
“I don’t think we have any kind of papers. No reason we would.” Vic went to the built-in refrigerator humming gaily.
“Tell me exactly what your father said.” Lyrissa was close behind her. She jumped when Vic whirled suddenly.
“Here we are! Sweet nectar from heaven, by way of southern California.” Vic held up a clear glass pitcher of red liquid.
“Vic, try to remember.” Lyrissa wanted to snatch it from her hands and shake her until she talked sense.
Vic went to the breakfast table and put the pitcher down. She got three tall pale green glasses from a side cupboard.
“Let’s sit down and then we can talk,” Vic said gaily.
Julie had been leaning against the center island with bar stools around it. She studied Lyrissa in silence for several moments before she joined them around the table. “You’re really intense about that painting. Are you familiar with the artist?”
Lyrissa looked at her and could see wheels starting to turn. She cleared her throat. “Not really. He was considered a minor regional artist. Just being thorough.”
“Really? Hmm.” Julie’s tone and expression said she was suspicious. She continued to examine Lyrissa closely.
“But it’s no big deal, Vic. I’ll check it out after we enjoy this delicious tea.” Lyrissa willed herself to relax. She even managed to smile at Julie.
Vic chattered about the merits of herbal compounds. Lyrissa nodded while adding the occasional comment of her own. Julie continued to watch her surreptitiously. Lyrissa rolled out what she prayed was her strongest performance to date. Still Julie was not so easily distracted.
“The neighborhood in the painting looks lovely. It dates back at least two hundred years. Wealthy free Creoles lived there.” Julie eyed Lyrissa.
“The Tremé Faubourg was a favorite setting for artists. So it could be a reproduction,” Lyrissa said.
“Fake, cher. We shouldn’t be so delicate.” Vic laughed and drank a long sip of tea.
“Maybe we should have it examined by an expert,” Julie said.
“Lyrissa is the expert, Julie. Such a sharp young thing.” Vic winked at Lyrissa.
“I mean someone with more experience in authenticating art,” Julie said firmly.
“That could come later. First, we should make sure it’s part of the collection. Vic says it’s not.” Lyrissa shrugged again and made notes on a legal pad.
“Well you know I’m not really sure now. Maybe I’m thinking of the landscape in the dining room.” Vic screwed up her face.
“We’ll sort it out eventually. No need to struggle with it now.” Lyrissa smiled at Vic and drank some tea.
“The board meeting is in less than two weeks. I think you’d better sort it out before then. That’s what we’re expecting from you, as the expert.” Julie stared hard at Lyrissa.
Lyrissa’s smiled widened until it hurt. “You’re right, of course. I’ll be back in touch with you about the painting.”
“Okey-dokey!” Vic replied with a wave of one hand.
The rest of the visit went by in a blur. Lyrissa’s concentration was on being cool and nonchalant. She could feel Julie watching her every move. Vic seemed blissfully un-aware of any tension. She gave a history of her family. Julie frowned several times at Vic’s hearty candor.
“My great-grandfather was a fast-talking man. He almost got shot once. You know, it’s been whispered that my ancestors were high-toned thieves.” Vic dropped her voice in a mocking, confidential tone.
“Which might have included the art?” Lyrissa couldn’t resist the opening.
“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised, sugar!” Vic burst out.
“Vic!” Julie’s mouth hung open for a second before she recovered.
“The older I get, the less I care what people think.” Vic laughed. “Besides, it’s all just entertaining historical tidbits.”
Lyrissa sipped her tea and pretended only a mild interest in Vic’s rambling stories. Julie squirmed, clearly bored but unwilling to leave them alone. She muttered a soft curse word when her cell phone rang.
“Another important business deal to close, I bet. I ad-mire high-powered corporate women,” Lyrissa said with a guileless expression.
Julie squinted at her but said nothing as she punched the buttons on the phone. “Yes, what is it?”
“Well, I don’t envy them running around to meetings all day. So tedious. But then, someone has to keep the economy going, I guess.” Vic beamed at Lyrissa. “Now you’ve got a dream career. You get paid for looking at beautiful things.”
Lyrissa laughed. “I never thought about it that way. But I also study history.”
“That can be exciting, too.”
“Digging around dusty old books and buildings isn’t exciting. Mostly I sneeze a lot.”
“You’re so funny! I can’t wait for you to come back. I know, let’s meet for lunch at Copeland’s one day.” Vic leaned forward with a look of anticipation.
Julie tried to follow their exchange but couldn’t. “Say that again. I'll be there in twenty minutes.” She hit the off button on the phone.
“Duty calls?” Lyrissa said sweetly.
Julie’s eyes flashed when she looked at her. “Nothing Noel and I won’t be able to handle this evening. He wants me with him tonight at a meeting.”
Lyrissa winced at her choice of words. “I’m sure you will.”
“We work well together. We’ve been a team for six years now.”
“Thank goodness. Carlton is a—” Vic blithely resumed telling tales out of school.
“Carlton has really grown in his position.” Julie spoke in a measured manner.
Vic stopped. “Oops, loose lips, as they say.”
Lyrissa pretended not to notice. Still she seethed at the vivid image of Julie hanging on Noel. She stood up. “I’d better go now.”
“Don’t tell me you’re rushing off to a meeting. What about the leisurely academic life?” Vic stood, too.
“My schedule is anything but. I work and attend classes,” Lyrissa said.
“She’s on a scholarship or fellowship of some kind.” Julie lifted one shapely eyebrow.
Lyrissa reminded herself of the invisible but no less substantial wall between them. She gazed at Vic and Julie. They wore their expensive clothes as easily as they wore their self-assurance. It was obvious neither had the experience of feeling out of place. At that moment the women represented generations of Creole smugness.
“How stupid of me to rattle on like some empty- headed dilettante. I wish I had half your brains and talent.” Vic spoke in a sincere way, her eyes clouded with concern. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
“It’s okay.” Lyrissa cut her off. She didn’t need or want her pity. “Thanks for your time. I’ll call again if I need to come back.”
“Please do. I really mean that,” Vic said. She glanced at Julie with a frown.
Julie did not accompany them as Vic walked Lyrissa to the front door. Vic talked in a nervous manner. Lyrissa nodded politely but remembered they were on opposite sides. Soon she would be at odds with Vic and the rest of the St. Denis family. Then Vic would not be so cordial.
“Thanks again,” Lyrissa said in an attempt to leave.
“I’m glad you came. And don’t pay attention to Julie. She’s a bit possessive when it comes to...” Vic blinked ha
rd. “I’m doing it again. I can’t seem to stop making a fool of myself today.”
“Don’t worry about it. Bye-bye.”
Lyrissa escaped after the third apology. She gazed around at the large homes, luxury cars, and neat lawns feeling like an alien from another planet. Noel and Julie...
The two names kept running through her mind for the rest of the afternoon.
“What’s wrong?” Noel asked.
“Nothing,” Lyrissa said, and knew it sounded false.
They sat on the sofa in the living room of his apartment. It was Friday evening. They’d had a quiet dinner at Semolina’s, Noel’s favorite Italian restaurant.
“Vic called me.” Noel waited for her to answer.
“She’s a nice person.” Lyrissa did not look at him.
“Are we going to have that talk again?”
“What talk?”
“The one about how we come from different social classes and—” Noel put a hand on her knee.
“No,” Lyrissa broke in. “We don’t need to.”
“Good. Then you can relax, right?” Noel bent forward to stare into her eyes directly.
“Sure,” Lyrissa said and smiled.
“You’re a strong woman. I can’t believe you’d let anyone play you with stupid games.”
Lyrissa knew he referred to Julie. So Vic wasn’t such a ditzy heiress, after all. He was right. Yet little did he know that his statement applied to him, too. What if she was too distracted watching Julie to realize he was the real threat? Her chest tightened at the thought that his touch was false. She shivered when he stroked her cheekbone with a forefinger. Still she wanted to shift attention back to her real goal.
“I didn’t think about that more than two seconds after I left.” Lyrissa gazed back at him.
“Good. I’m going to tell my parents and grandmother about us.”
“No!” Lyrissa blurted out.
“Why not?”
“I-I’d feel better if you waited. Just a little longer.”
Noel nuzzled her neck. “You’re too tense, baby.” “Promise you won’t say anything until I’m ready.” “Relax,” Noel whispered.
“Please,” Lyrissa cajoled. “Just until I’m not so jumpy.” “If that’s what you want. Now, let’s not talk about it anymore.”
