Dwelling Place

by Kathleen Y'Barbo

  Indignation rose, and he pressed past Calvin to step inside. “I am not,” he said as he tossed his keys and wallet onto the counter. “In fact, my plan is to get to know the woman a bit better so I can help you do your job.”

  Calvin chuckled. “Did I ask for help?”

  “No, but I—”

  “But nothing, my friend. I don’t want you anywhere near that house until the court declares it yours. Got it?”

  “Are you serious? That’s my house.”

  “A woman and two children are in that house, and neither of you is arguing the point that she is there at your grandmother’s invitation. The courts are not in the habit of forcing people out when they’ve been invited in.”

  Ezra took a step backward and shook his head. “Hey, wait a minute. Are you saying I don’t have a case?”

  His buddy hit the hot water faucet with his elbow, then reached for the soap before looking up. “What I’m saying is, given the circumstances and the current leanings of the court, I think you can win this. Just don’t make my job any harder.”

  Calvin immersed his greasy hands in the stream of water and began scrubbing while Ezra sighed. How had the situation become so complicated? One moment he had a perfectly good reason to strongly dislike the interlopers residing in his house. Then, in a matter of hours, those same interlopers had taken him in, fed him, and invited him back for a barbecue.

  To make matters worse, the two girls promised to give him a present. No one besides Granny Nell had given him a present in years. Much as he hated to admit it, the thought of a gift made him smile. After all, their mother was the perpetrator of the fraud, not Chloe and Amanda. The girls were innocent in all this.

  A gift. I wonder what it is.

  “Oh, tell me I’m not seeing this.”

  Ezra glanced up to see his friend staring. The expression on his face showed disgust.

  “What?”

  “That look.” Calvin threw the kitchen towel onto the counter, never breaking eye contact. “My friend, you look positively, well, attached.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Calvin walked past him without comment and headed down the hall to the spare bedroom where Ezra bunked. He emerged with a file in his hand, the file he’d given Ezra concerning the lawsuit against Sophie Comeaux. The marine attorney stopped at the kitchen where he tossed the file onto the table. He then reached beneath the sink to retrieve the wastebasket. Only then did Calvin look up at Ezra.

  “What are you doing?” Ezra leaned against the counter and shook his head. “Are you trying to make a point, because I’m missing it completely?”

  In the place of his normal expression, Calvin wore the look of a full-combat marine. “Choose,” echoed in the kitchen.

  Ezra chuckled. “What are you talking about?”

  “Either you are going to be my client, or you are going to be that woman’s dinner guest. Choose.”

  “Oh, come on, Cal. It’s a harmless barbecue. What can happen?” When no answer seemed forthcoming, Ezra tried another tack. “Look—her girls have a gift for me from my grandmother. They’re just kids, innocent in all this. I don’t want to hurt their feelings by not showing up.”

  “But wasn’t the original plan that you would meet them after church tomorrow?” He reached for the file, then clutched it to his chest and waited for an answer.

  “Well, yes.”

  “So let me get this straight.” Calvin’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re willing to sip tea with them and attend social events together, why are you so intent on kicking them out of your house?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do.” He let out a long breath. “Because I need to do this for Granny Nell.”

  “And you’re 100 percent sure this is what your grandmother wanted? While we’re on the subject, are you sure this is what God is telling you to do?”

  Was he? Ezra’s brain screamed a yes while his heart. . .his heart told him he might not have given the matter as much thought and prayer as he should have.

  “That’s what I thought.” Calvin stuffed the file into the wastebasket, then shoved the container back under the sink.

  Before Ezra could find his voice, his friend and attorney had disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water announced he was headed for the shower.

  For a moment Ezra stood in the hall. Just stood. The rightness of his case for following his attorney’s advice contrasted sharply with the churning in his gut.

  Granny Nell always said a man knew when the Lord was trying to tell him something. Could this be one of those times?

  Ezra leaned against the bathroom door and stared up at the ceiling. Eyes closed, he began to search his heart. It only took a moment to decide he didn’t like what he found there.

  ❧

  “Miss Emmeline.” Sophie straightened and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as her heart slowed its racing. Placing both hands on the wheel, she said, “I didn’t see you there.”

  The grande dame of Latagnier wore denim today in the form of a tasteful if not dated pantsuit and matching pumps. She carried a purse that resembled a leopard-print bowling bag. A leopard-trimmed broach on her collar completed the outfit. In all, the outfit was rather subdued for the flamboyant church secretary and president of the historical society.

  “Oh, I frightened you.” Emmeline Trahan rested her perfectly polished red nails on the car door and affected a mock pout. “Will you forgive me? I was just so excited about my news that I spoke before I thought.”

  “Of course,” Sophie said. “So what’s this about some news?”

  “Oh, it’s just wonderful. I’m so excited.” She clapped her hands, and her rings caught the light, reflecting a rainbow of colors into the van. “I wonder if I could buy you a cup of coffee. That is, if you aren’t busy with the girls.” Miss Emmeline stuck her head inside the van window. “Looks like you’re all alone.”

  “Chloe and Amanda are with friends for a few hours.”

  Miss Emmeline gave her a satisfied smile. “Then we have loads of time. Come—let’s talk inside.”

  Somehow Sophie found herself back in the Magnolia Café before she could protest. Not that anyone had much luck changing the spry septuagenarian’s mind once it had been made up.

  Settling into a booth by the front window, Miss Emmeline offered a smile to the waiter. “How’re your mama and daddy, Ernie?” Before the young man could answer, Miss Emmeline reached over to grab Sophie’s hand. “Do you know who this young fellow is?”

  Sophie looked up at the boy whose attention seemed to be fixed on the ceiling. “I’m sorry. I don’t.”

  “This is Ernest Breaux III.” At the sound of the name, the young man flinched. “Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said softly.

  Miss Emmeline smiled. “Ernie’s great-grandpapa was one of our founding fathers and a right nice man, as I hear tell. Theophile Breaux was his name. Ernest Sr., Theo’s eldest son and Ernie’s grandfather, married one of the Lamonts. He turned out the best quality furniture in the state from his workshop down by Bayou Nouvelle. Ernie’s kin to our esteemed cardiologist Dr. Villare, Mr. Arceneaux at the Dip Cone, as well as a host of others in this area including me. Isn’t that right, young man?”

  The teenager studied his pencil and nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled without interest. “I guess.”

  “You guess?” Miss Emmeline straightened her spine and gripped the edge of the table with both hands. “My dear boy, you are the scion of a grand family, as am I.” She regarded Sophie with a solemn look. “I’m kin to Theo’s wife. Clothilde was a Trahan before she married. She was my cousin,” she said before returning her attention to Ernie. “Our people settled this area. Without them, Latagnier might never have become the fair city it now is.”

  He stared at Miss Emmeline, clearly unimpressed. “Did you want anything besides coffee?”

  “Two menus and a smile, please.” When she realized Ernie had missed the joke, s
he waved her hand to dismiss him. “Just the menus then.”

  Sophie watched the young man shuffle away, his baggy pants and overlong shirttail not marking him as anything other than a typical teen. “I wonder if he understands what a wonderful gift a family history is.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, chere,” Miss Emmeline said, “I doubt young people care much for anything in the past. He might someday, though.”

  “It’s all so interesting, this connection with history. I grew up in the city where we didn’t even know our neighbors.”

  “What a pity, dear,” Miss Emmeline said. “Must make a body feel like she’s drifting without an anchor, eh?”

  Drifting without an anchor. What an apt description of her life before Nell Landry.

  Ernie returned with the menus and his notepad. “Ready?”

  “Coffee, please,” Sophie said.

  He turned to Miss Emmeline. “Ma’am?”

  “I think we can change this lack of understanding about our past,” Miss Emmeline said. “In fact, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Sophie. Our founding fathers’ celebration, that is.” She returned her attention to poor Ernie as if she’d just noticed he stood nearby. “We’d like two cups of café au lait and a plate of beignets, please.”

  “Just black coffee for me,” Sophie hastened to add as Ernie headed for the kitchen. “Now what were you saying about a founding fathers’ celebration?”

  “It’s all very last minute, but then sometimes the best things are, eh?” Miss Emmeline heaved a sigh. “I’ve got the go-ahead from the powers that be to put on a festival next month, the sixteenth.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “Oh, plenty.” She reached over to touch Sophie’s hand. “I’m counting on you to help me with an important project. I have decided that a founders’ celebration would be incomplete without a celebration of our founders, eh?”

  Sophie nodded.

  “Since this is our first-ever festival, our theme will encompass the founding families and their contribution to Latagnier. At the same time I feel it’s important to acknowledge a hometown hero or heroine, as well. Someone who embodies the spirit of Latagnier.”

  “I agree,” Sophie said. “But I still don’t see how I can help with this. Are you asking me to choose someone to honor?”

  Ernie returned with two coffees and a plate of beignets. Miss Emmeline waited until he left to respond.

  “Oh no, dear. We have an honoree already chosen. What I need from you is help putting together the presentation to honor her.” The church secretary took a healthy bite of beignet, dusting the table and her lap with powdered sugar. “I do love our little fried donuts. Are you sure you won’t have one?” She pressed the plate toward Sophie.

  She took a sip of coffee, then set the cup down. “Dear girl, I’m talking in circles, aren’t I? The recipient of the founders’ award is going to be Nell Landry, the late Reverend Landry’s wife.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful. Nell was such a dear woman, and she did so much for Latagnier.”

  “I agree. We’d like to have a plaque made to hang in city hall along with the founders’ portraits. And since you and she were so close, it’s only natural you should be the one to put together the presentation. Something simple and reverent to honor a godly woman.”

  “Presentation?” Sophie reached for the spoon and gave her coffee a stir. “Miss Emmeline, I’m a nurse. I wouldn’t know the first thing about putting a presentation together. Besides, I work full-time. Then there’re the girls. . . .”

  “Oh dear.” The church secretary fretted with her napkin; then a smile dawned. “Well, of course. Why didn’t I think of it sooner? I brought a list of people who might be good sources of stories about Nell, folks who knew her way back when. That ought to get you started.”

  Sophie reached for the paper Miss Emmeline handed her, then scanned the page. Several dozen names and phone numbers were followed by notes like “knew her in childhood” or “worked for Pastor Landry.”

  “I know this is a surprise and there’s little time to work on it,” Miss Emmeline said. “If I found someone to work with you on this, would you feel more comfortable accepting the responsibility of completing it?”

  Sophie considered the question a moment before nodding. “I suppose. As long as I don’t have to do any public speaking.”

  “I promise. You do the work, and I’ll assign the talking to your partner. The one I have in mind will surely agree to that.” She swung her gaze to meet Sophie’s stare. “Now when will you be available to begin?”

  Seventeen

  “Hurry up, Amanda. We need to get this finished before Mommy comes to turn out the lights.”

  Sophie stood at the door to her daughters’ room, a stack of photo albums resting in the crook of her arm. She’d begun the daunting project of capturing the essence of Nell Landry as soon as she returned from picking up the girls.

  Looking through photographs from the last two years seemed the place to start. She had retrieved the albums from her closet and set them on the kitchen table, only to find that she couldn’t manage to look at more than two or three pictures of Nell without crying. The albums had been moved to the coffee table where they sat all through dinner and the kiddie movie she watched with the girls.

  Now, with bedtime looming, she decided to take the albums into her room. The story of Nell would become her bedtime story. Or at least that was the theory.

  “Girls, what are you doing in there?”

  “Nothing,” Chloe quickly responded.

  “Coloring,” Amanda added.

  Sophie moved past the door to deposit the photo albums on her bed, then returned to listen in on a heated conversation between Chloe and Amanda regarding whether or not to tell their mother about the work they still needed to do. While Chloe favored doing the work, whatever it was, under the sheets with the flashlight, Amanda suggested asking for permission to stay up later.

  Having heard enough, Sophie stepped into the doorway and leaned on the frame, crossing her hands over her chest. “Ready for bed, girls?”

  Amanda regarded her with wide eyes while Chloe stuffed something under her pillow, then affected an angelic expression. Neither spoke.

  “You’re not even in your pajamas yet,” Sophie said. “What’s going on here? I sent you to brush your teeth and get ready for bed half an hour ago.”

  “We were really busy, Mommy,” Amanda said, her eyes downcast. “We need to finish something.”

  Chloe gave Amanda a shove. “Tattletale.”

  “Chloe,” Sophie said sharply. “Apologize this very minute.”

  Her mumbled “I’m sorry” failed to carry much enthusiasm. Easygoing Amanda, however, accepted it without reservation and responded by hugging her sister and saying she was sorry, too.

  Sophie picked her way past the crayons and markers scattered on the pink rug that covered the old wood floor. Gathering the twins into her arms, she settled onto Chloe’s bed.

  “Girls, is there anything you’d like to tell me?” When neither responded, she turned her attention to the older and more outspoken of the two. “Why don’t you start, Chloe?”

  The little girl quickly looked away. It was obvious she wasn’t ready to spill the beans.

  She turned her attention to Amanda. “Anything you want to tell me, missy?”

  Amanda exchanged a serious glance with her sister. For a second it seemed as though she might confess.

  “No, Mommy, there’s nothing.” She paused to toy with the hem of her shirt. “ ’Sides, I can’t tell you. It’s a secret.”

  Chloe squirmed at her side. “That’s right,” she said slowly. “If we tell you, then it will give away the secret.”

  Sophie set the girls side by side on the bed, then rose to kneel at eye level to them. She covered Chloe’s fingers with her right hand and Amanda’s with her left. Of the pair, Chloe wore the more worried expression.

  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” sh
e asked Chloe.

  Dark eyes shut tight, then blinked hard before opening to stare in her direction. A conflict of some sort played across her daughter’s face. In a flash her confused expression turned to a pleading look.

  “It’s not a bad secret, Mommy. I promise.”

  Amanda squeezed her hand. “That’s right. It’s not bad. I promise, too.”

  “Girls, what do I say about making promises?”

  “Never make a promise unless you intend to keep it,” they said in unison.

  “That’s right.” She paused to consider her next question. “And secrets,” she said slowly. “What’s the rule about keeping secrets from Mommy?”

  “No secrets,” Amanda said, “unless it’s a present.”

  “That’s right.” Sophie lifted her girls’ hands to her lips and kissed them both, then held them against her heart. “This secret of yours, is it a present?”

  “Oh yes, Mommy,” Chloe said. “That’s why we can’t tell.”

  “We promised Miss Nell.” Amanda covered her mouth. “Oops.”

  “Amanda!” Chloe frowned at her sister. “You’re such a blabbermouth.”

  “I am not.”

  “Are, too.”

  Sophie released the girls and stood. “All right now. That’s enough. Chloe, if I have to remind you again of the proper way to treat your sister, you will not be going home with Heather after school on Monday. And as for you,” she said to Amanda, “please think about whether or not what you tell me will give away the good secret, okay?”

  “I’ll try, Mommy,” Amanda said.

  “So are we straight on secrets and promises?” When they nodded, she tapped her temple. “Remind me, girls. What happens in the morning?”

  “Church,” Amanda said.

  “And Sunday school,” Chloe added.

  “That’s right. And what time do we go to bed the night before church and Sunday school?”

  “Nine o’clock,” they said together.

  “Very good.” Sophie knelt to grab a handful of crayons and toss them into the bin. “Now anyone care to tell me what time it is?”