by Emery, Lynn
She grinned back. “Yeah, Daddy could give you a look that made you back up quick.”
“Then one day I was fishing down at Old River. He was there. After a while, we were talking about bait, which fish were running, and stuff like that.” Simon shrugged. “I think he was curious about me more than anything. But he never asked about Papa Joe,” he finished in a quiet voice.
The mention of his grandfather brought up the past events that had separated their families. Both were silent for a time.
“You’re right. Andrew and Daddy couldn’t keep all this property clean, though they tried.” Rae took a deep breath. “Like I said, I’ll talk to my brothers.”
“I know Andrew will be a hard sell. I’ve only said hello to him over the years.” Simon smiled. “He seems like a nice guy.”
“Yeah, he’s easygoing. He tries to be mean about what happened between our grandfathers, but it’s hard for Andrew to hold a grudge against anybody really.” Rae smiled with affection, thinking of her brother. “It’s just not in his nature to carry on feuds.”
“And Neville?” Simon looked totally at ease, talking to her about her family.
“He’s the serious type, hardworking; nose to the grindstone. Temperament like my Mama’s brothers.” Rae had never thought of it before, but it was true. Neville was like Uncle Ted and Uncle Johnny. “But he thinks we should sell at least some of the land.”
“Sounds like a nice guy, too.”
“Yeah, they’re my darling big brothers,” Rae said, remembering how they had taught her to fish, hunt and swim in this bayou. She adored them with the intensity she’d felt for Lucien. Emotion clogged her throat.
“Rae, I wouldn’t do anything to ruin Bayou Latte or Creole Bend,” Simon said.
The sound of his voice saying her name sent a shiver up Rae’s spine. Down deep in her core, she believed him. Rae felt as though the ground beneath her feet was undulating, moving her closer to him.
A shout from a passing fisherman in a bateau broke the spell. What in the world is wrong with you, girl? No man had pushed her buttons like this. Not even Darcy at the height of her raging, hormonal teen years. This was more dangerous. She was a woman now, capable of making a much bigger mistake falling for the wrong man.
Rae shook herself. Simon was not going to sucker her. She would command whatever happened between them. “You said something about a free meal, if I recall.” She resumed her brass and sass attitude in defense against the strong signals that Simon was sending out.
“Uh, sure, Arnaud’s okay?” Simon wiped his forehead. He let her follow him to his Ford Explorer and opened the passenger door.
Rae got in. “Fine with me.”
Arnaud’s was a restaurant near downtown Belle Rose, which looked out over the Grande River. Paintings of swamp scenes and Acadian houses hung on the walls. There was one large window facing the water. Double doors led to a patio. The waiter pointed to a table by the window.
“Afternoon, I’m Walter.” The waiter spoke in a musical Cajun accent. “Is this okay? You want? You could have an outside table…”
“It’s so nice. Let’s sit outside.” Simon turned to Rae, who nodded.
She spoke to several people as they followed the waiter to their table. Since they were earlier than the usual lunchtime crowd, there were several empty places. Both ordered iced tea.
Simon glanced over the menu. “Everything looks good. But I’ll have my usual, a fried catfish platter.”
“Oh, come on,” Rae teased, “live a little, be adventurous.”
Simon wore a shy smile. “Afraid I’m not the adventurous type.”
Rae leaned forward. “You walked right up to me that day. Tell the truth, how many people warned you that I was a woman likely to take a chunk out of a St. Cyr?”
“Well…” Simon looked flustered.
“How many?”
“A few. I didn’t believe them though.” He looked at her, a gleam in his eyes. “You didn’t look like you’d bite.”
Rae lowered her voice. “I thought about it.”
Simon looked down at their hands resting against each other on the red, checkered cloth. “Wh–”
“Y’all ready to order?” Walter beamed at them, pen ready. He flipped to a new page on his order pad.
Rae went into a light banter with the waiter without missing a beat. Simon stared at her. The woman kept lighting his fire! That voice, husky and velvet smooth at the same time, almost had him in knots. Not to mention that she could make the most ordinary sentences sound seductive. Or is she flirting with me? Maybe the added sensuous overtones were only in his mind.
Simon tried not to stare as Rae questioned the waiter about several entrees. He guessed she was at least five foot seven. Her full curves were a feast for the eyes, causing several men to look up in appreciation when they walked through the restaurant. She wore stone-washed denim pants and a white knit, sleeveless blouse with red stripes along the V-neck. Papa Joe and the others were right. Rae Dalcour definitely had a bite. Trouble was he liked it.
“I’ll have the charbroiled shrimp.” Rae handed the menu to Walter, who bustled off. “Now you were saying?”
“Would you like to have dinner?” Simon glanced at her, and then away. Rae Dalcour made him feel like an awkward teenager again.
“We haven’t had lunch yet, cher,” Rae quipped, chuckling. “My head is spinning.”
“Guess I assumed too much.” Simon was surprised at the sharp sense of disappointment he felt.
“That wasn’t a no, Simon,” Rae replied.
Simon looked up to find her brown eyes held no hint of rejection. His heart turned over. She was smiling for him. Simon liked the way she said his name with that voice of hers. He wanted to make her smile for him again and again.
“Saturday?” he asked.
“You don’t waste time, do you?”
“Not when I’m this sure.”
Simon shocked himself with this admission, but it was true – he wanted to get closer to her. He pushed down the warning voice of his grandfather and gave in to the feeling. This was no ordinary attraction. He wanted to know her in every way.
Rae raised her eyebrows at him. “We’re straying onto dangerous ground here. What will your family say? And the Joves won’t be thrilled either.”
“I’m grown. But if you’re worried your family won’t approve…” Simon lifted a shoulder. He wore a slight smile and a teasing glint in his eyes.
“My family doesn’t tell me what to do with my personal life.” Rae laughed and leaned forward. “Tonight is fine. Besides, it’s just a date, right?”
“Right,” Simon said. He knew better deep down, but he tried to put a light tone to his voice.
They enjoyed the rest of lunch without mentioning the possible complications of seeing each other. Simon enjoyed the easy flow of conversation between them. It was as though they’d sat together like this many times. They would sometimes fall silent, but it was not the awkward kind so common between a man and woman who had just met.
Without remembering just how they got there, Simon was telling her about his dreams for the business. He talked about his family and was lost in her account about the Dalcours. They talked on until the lunch crowd was sparse again.
“I never realized how hard it was on you all after your grandfather left,” Simon said.
“Humph, folks in Belle Rose got a long memory. They blame us because the money that would have brought a major business into the black community disappeared. The Moutons and other white families still control most of the wealth in this parish.” Rae wore a bitter expression. “We were treated like dirt.”
“Amazing that you would be harassed for what your grandfather did.”
“For what folks say he did! They didn’t prove it,” Rae said in a clipped tone.
“Of course, I’m sorry.” Simon covered her hand with his. “There is no proof, even after all these years.” They both stared at their hands, his large fingers entwined
around her slender ones.
A nice fit.
“Y’all want some more tea?” asked Walter, holding a pitcher.
Rae shook her head. “No. I’m sloshing every time I move as it is.”
“Me neither.” Simon waited for Walter to leave. “I’m really looking forward to tonight, Rae.” He gazed from her eyes to her lips.
“So am I. Let’s go to Pas Patout afterward. Or don’t you dance?” The teasing came back to Rae’s voice.
“I can hang. Two step, swing out, all the old standards.” Simon smiled.
“Then it’s going to be some night.” Rae’s voice dropped an octave.
Simon decided to join the game. “Hope I can live up to your expectations.”
Rae gave him an appraising glance from head to toe. “Oh, I’d say you can hang.”
Walter brought the check, which forced Simon to let go of Rae’s hand. On the short drive down the highway to her house, the silence between them was heavy. Both were wrapped in thought. Simon wondered if Rae was experiencing the same rush as he was.
“Well, thanks for an interesting day. And lunch,” Rae said, smiling at him. “See you tonight.”
“Say around six?”
“Perfect.” She winked at him and hopped down from the Explorer. “Don’t forget your dancing shoes.” With a wave, she walked away.
Simon blinked, feeling as though he was coming out of a daydream. Had it really happened so easily as that? In a heartbeat he was going out with the infamous Rae Dalcour. She was right – Papa Joe would ask him if he’d lost his sanity. And Toya… Simon did not even want to think about that. But they would not be the only people in town questioning his judgment. He turned up the radio and swayed to the beat of a pop tune. They’ll all just have to adjust.
Chapter 6
Marcelle stepped over a broken piece of chair and looked around Lucien’s old dance hall. “Girl, you gotta lot of work on your hands.”
“Hey, I’ve been cleaning up some. You should have seen it four days ago.” Rae stood in the middle of the large room with both hands on her hips.
The old juke joint had definitely seen better days. The sign with ‘Rockin’ Good Times’ in red letters was propped against one of the walls. Rae had brought it inside after finding it hanging, lopsided over the front door. The bar was along one wall of the main room. Tables were within a few feet of it. Then the dance floor took up a good part of the space, with a raised bandstand opposite the bar. Windows let in light from the bright morning sun. Through a door just past the end of the bar was a hall that led to the restrooms. Another short hall led to a kitchen. The equipment looked to be in need of repair or replacement. There were two other rooms; one for storage and the other an office.
“This place is bigger than I thought.” Marcelle flipped a light switch. “Hey, you got lights!”
“Guess who paid for it?” Rae took out her notepad and reviewed everything she needed to have done.
“Your mama,” Marcelle said promptly.
“Yeah, Mama thinks this is a real bad idea, but said she didn’t want me to break my neck stumbling in the dark. Mr. George says he wants him a good party spot.” Rae gave a short laugh. “He’s something.”
“Mr. George is a sweet man. And he’s crazy ‘bout Miss Aletha, too.” Marcelle stacked up some glasses in a box that needed washing. “I mean no disrespect to your daddy.”
“Don’t be silly. I love him for making Mama happy.” Rae paused in writing down the items. “Daddy pushed Mama away. Seems he poured all his energy into this place and the past.”
“What does Neville think?” Marcelle took a large bottle of liquid cleaner and sprayed the tiled bar top.
“Well, I talked to him on the phone about possibly selling the land. He’s coming over this weekend.” Rae glanced at Marcelle. “I was surprised. He wasn’t too keen on selling to a St. Cyr.”
“Uh-hum. Even Neville, who’s been preaching that you should unload all this, has doubts.” Marcelle eyed her old pal. “You got that old look about you these days.”
“What are you talking about?” Rae put down the pad. She began to remove the tattered remains of curtains from the windows.
“The time you stalked Celeste Gravier for calling you trash, you had that same look.”
Rae finished one window and started another. “I did not stalk Celeste. And what look? This is my normal look.”
“Your ‘I’m up to something that’s gonna blow your mind’ look! Just like with Celeste.”
“No way!” Rae smiled despite her protest. “Wonder how old Celeste is?”
“You made that girl’s life hell for a week at school. First a dead rat in her gym bag and then dirty pictures in her desk for the teacher to find. She’d jump every time you walked by.” Marcelle giggled. “You were terrible. Didn’t we have some times?”
“Yeah, until the priest made you reform. Then all you did was preach to me how I was going straight to hell.” Rae shook her head. “How did we stay friends when we were so different?”
“You were my adopted sister.” Marcelle packed the last glasses away. “I couldn’t give up on you.”
“I almost gave up on myself.” Rae thought of those fast-lane days with the wisdom of maturity. “With all those folks telling me I was no good, I believed it. I was living up to the Dalcour legend.”
“Bon Dieu! Remember when you and Charles Malveaux almost got arrested racing his car on top the levee? Honey, I had my hands full tryin’ to set you straight.”
“I must have been out of my mind. It’s a wonder I’m not in prison or dead, some of the stuff I did.” Rae shook her head slowly.
Marcelle walked up to her. “So what are you up to now?”
“Marcelle, I’m not that fifteen-year-old girl anymore. I’m here, trying to start a business. That’s all.” Rae lifted her chin.
“There, you see. That’s part of the truth, but not all of it. What did you promise Mr. Lucien?” Marcelle plopped down in a chair. She fanned herself with an old piece of cardboard. “Give it up.”
Rae turned and started pulling down another rotting curtain. “Just that I wouldn’t let the house or this place fall down.”
“And..?” Marcelle’s sharp question jabbed through the air.
Rae could hold it in no longer. She never kept secrets from her best friend. “And I’m going to try to get at the truth about Pawpaw Vincent. I’m hiring LaMar Zeno.” She sat down in a chair across the table from Marcelle.
Her friend stared with her mouth hanging open. “Quit lyin’, girl!”
“If I’m lyin’, I’m flyin’, as we used to say. I got him coming over tomorrow.” Rae tapped the table top before jumped again. She spoke over her shoulder as she moved to the next window, “He’s going to find out the truth, Marcelle. I can just feel it.”
“Well, if anybody can, it’s LaMar Zeno. He’s the best black private detective around, they say. He even helps some major corporations with industrial spying. Freddie told me that.”
“Just hope he won’t refuse when I tell him he’s looking for two people who vanished fifty years ago.” Rae frowned. “I’ll convince him though. I hear he loves solving a good puzzle.”
“Then he’ll jump at the chance to take this case.” Marcelle was silent for a while. “Then there’s you and Simon St. Cyr. Heard y’all were mighty cozy at lunch.”
“Man, I’d forgotten how fast news travels in this place.” Rae dodged the implied question.
“Keepin’ in with other folks business is a major sport around here.” Marcelle fixed her with a steady gaze. “But the point is you were gettin’ along very well with Simon.”
“He’s a nice person. Why shouldn’t we get along?”
“Raenette Marie Dalcour, don’t play with me.” Marcelle got up and yanked on her blouse. “Tell me this instant!” With a firm hand, she led Rae back to the chair. “Sit your butt down and don’t move until I know everything.”
“Nothing much to tell. We had lunch, tal
ked some, and we’re going out tonight for dinner.” Rae laughed at the effect of her words on her friend.
“Quit lyin’!” Marcelle’s eyes were round and her mouth fell open this time.
Rae winked. “He’s picking me up in a few short hours. So let’s get to work. I’ll need time to look my best by six.”
Marcelle became serious. “Rae, I know we’ve been jokin’ around about the old days and stuff, but….”
“But what?”
“Messin’ with them Joves is like teasin’ a yard full of pit bulls.”
“They don’t run this town and they sure as hell don’t run me. Rae ripped a curtain in half and stuffed it into a garbage bag with force.
“Just remindin’ you how Toya can be, cher. Now, when she finds out about you an’ Simon, pooh-ya!” Marcelle said.
Rae faced her with a daring grin. “You know me, sugar. I don’t take crap.”
“Simon is a sexy guy and nice, too.” Marcelle went back to cleaning the bar. “You’ll make a good pair.”
“Wait a minute. Simon St. Cyr hasn’t bowled me over with his charm. I don’t dance to anybody’s tune but my own,” Rae said with heat.
“Like you said, I know you. Simon has made more of an impression on you than you think, or maybe wanna admit.” Marcelle gazed at her across the space between them.
“No way! Look, so he’s nice, but he’s not exactly my speed.” Rae affected an off-hand tone.
Rae turned her back to avoid the other woman’s probing look. She did not want to feel this racing sensation in her veins when she thought of seeing Simon tonight, or remember the tingle on her skin when he touched her.
“I hope you know what you’re doing with the investigation and Simon St. Cyr.” Marcelle scrubbed at the tiles. “Remember what my grandmama says, ‘Keep it up, Missy, an’ you gonna get more than you bargained for.’”
“Don’t go getting all spooky on me, girl. Whew, we’ve done enough for today. It’s time for you to go get little Felicia anyway,” Rae said.
Rae and Marcelle chattered about other things as they packed up to leave. Rae wanted to distract her friend from any more talk of Simon. Yet a cloud now hung over the bright afternoon that was not in the sky overhead.
