The Inheritance

by Rochelle Alers

  “The one time I was able to evade my brother to meet Alvaro he found us. We hadn’t done anything but Luis was livid. He told Alvaro that he would stomp a mud hole in his ass, then finish him off with an alley biscuit.”

  Hannah angled her head. “What’s an alley biscuit?”

  “A brick!” the three women chorus in unison.

  “Whatever,” she drawled. “I suppose that’s a New York expression. Did you brother ever stomp a mud hole in Alvaro’s ass?”

  “No, because at the time my brother was in the Golden Gloves, and if he hit him he was certain to break his jaw, and Alvaro was much too vain to have someone tag his face. Then I heard he’d gotten some girl pregnant. I knew if I’d come home pregnant, my father would’ve put me in a convent like they used to do back in the day. Then there was an epidemic of teenage girls having babies, and I wanted none of that, so I decided books were better than boys.”

  Hannah stole a glance at Samara, wondering if she had a boyfriend, but knowing what she’d gleaned about Tonya’s personality, she was sure that if Samara dropped out of college because she was pregnant, the chef would cut her off cold turkey. She’d already mentioned she had one more year of paying tuition to the exclusive private female-only college before she closed her checkbook for good.

  She detected the familiar scent of St. John’s cologne, and when she glanced up he was standing next to her table. “Fancy meeting you here,” she said, her words sounding false and slightly condescending. Hunkering down, St. John leaned in a brush a kiss on her parted lips. She could detect the taste of coffee on his breath.

  “Hi, gorgeous. I noticed you when you came in, but I didn’t want appear rude to my colleagues.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Those people are your colleagues?”

  He nodded. “They wanted to get together before going down to their timeshare in the Bahamas.” He rose to his feet. “Ladies. As usual, it’s always a pleasure to see you.” St. John pointed to Jasmine’s drink. “Be careful or you’ll find yourself lit up.” He tugged playfully at Hannah’s ponytail. “I’ll see you Friday night.” He was there, and then he was gone.

  Jasmine stared at the liquid in her glass. “I was getting ready to order a second one, but I suppose I better stop now.”

  “That’s up to you,” Hannah said. “I thought we’d walk around to take in the sights before heading back to the house, but a second hurricane is not the answer if you want to remain upright.”

  Jasmine pushed the glass away. “To tell you the truth, I am feeling a little buzzed.”

  Hannah removed a credit card from her handbag. “Does anyone want anything else before I settle the bill? I truly will cut you, Tonya, if you’re reaching in your bag for money.”

  Nydia smothered a laugh. “What’s with our Magnolia Princess cutting folks?”

  Tonya removed her hand from her handbag. “I dunno, but I’m not willing to risk it.”

  Hannah paid the bill, adding a generous tip. “Ainsi, mesdames, sont vous prêt à voir la Nouvelle-Orléans?”

  “Oui,” Tonya replied.

  Nydia stared at Tonya. “You speak French?” The older woman nodded. “What did she say?”

  “She asked us if we’re ready to see New Orleans, and I said yes. I spent a year in France learning to prepare their dishes, and by the time I left I was fluent.”

  Hannah smiled. If and when Tonya moved to New Orleans, she had someone else with whom to practice the language. Pushing back her chair, she stood, the others following suit. It actually was still too humid to be outside, but touring the city at night was preferable to the oppressive daytime heat.

  Chapter 21

  It was close to midnight when they arrived at St. John’s house. Hannah had called to let him know they were going to Jazzes and would come directly to his house from there. He’d assigned the four women the bedrooms in the rear of the house. Each of the bedrooms opened into a bathroom that was connected by a door to another bedroom.

  “Where’s my bedroom?” she asked as he led her down the hallway.

  He dropped a kiss on her hair. “Where do you think? Where you always sleep.”

  Hannah handed him her overnight bag. “I have to shower and wash my hair. I feel clammy all over.”

  “Take your time. Smokey and I will be waiting for you.”

  She walked into the bathroom and slipped out of her dress and underwear, leaving them in the hamper with St. John’s. Standing under the showerhead, Hannah turned her face up to the lukewarm water. She shampooed her hair and soaped her body, and then stood under the spray again to rinse her hair and body. Something startled her, and when she turned she found St. John standing outside the stall watching her. He was completely naked and semi-erect.

  Tonya had asked if he was better in bed than Robert, and she hadn’t hesitated because there was no comparison. Robert had never taken the time to arouse her, as if he was in a hurry to do the deed and get it over with. Most times, when it was over, he left her wanting more. His “more” was rolling over and going to sleep, leaving her sexually frustrated. The one time she mentioned this to him, he accused her of being oversexed. She hadn’t been as oversexed as she’d been neglected. And she refused to compare the size of their penises, because again St. John came out the winner.

  Smiling, she opened the door. “Are you coming in or staying out?”

  He returned her smile. “I was waiting for an invite.”

  “Come onto my parlor, said the spider to the fly.”

  St. John stepped in and closed the door. “You are a spider who has me caught up in her web where there is no escape.” He moved closer, nuzzling her neck and pushing his groin against her mound.

  Hannah opened her mouth to his rapacious tongue as he simulated making love to her. Anchoring her arms under his shoulders, she writhed against him as the familiar sensations rippling through her belly settled between her legs, bringing with them a rush of moisture. The lubricant and her ability to relax made it possible for him to penetrate her easily.

  Like the spider he’d likened her to, she kissed him, her lips trailing from his mouth to his chin, breastbone, and down his flat belly. The tip of her tongue tasted the moisture clinging to the tight curls in the inverted triangle of coarse hair between his thighs. She pressed light kisses along his inner thigh before reversing direction.

  St. John reached over and turned off the water. He swept her up in his arms. “Open the door.”

  She complied, and taking long strides, he carried her out of the bathroom into the bedroom, placing her wet body on the bed, his following hers down. “May I love you, baby?” he whispered in her ear.

  Nodding, Hannah closed her eyes, opening her arms and legs and moaning softly when his erection filled her. Her hands caressed the length of his spine, the firm flesh over his buttocks, her body arching to meet his powerful thrusts. It was flesh against flesh, man against woman. Ecstasy swept over them with the power of waves crashing against the rocks in a storm, sharing a pleasure so pure and explosive that for several seconds they had actually become one.

  She welcomed his still-pulsing hardness and weight crushing her down against the mattress. This lovemaking was different from what they had previously shared. There was a wild desperation in their coming together, as if it would be the last time. Tears filled her eyes and leaked from under her lids, and she swiped at them before they fell.

  There was nothing for her to cry about except that she had fallen in love with a man and wanted him to share her life and their future. She pushed against his shoulder. “St. John, you’re crushing me.”

  He rolled off her, lay on his back, threw an arm over his face. “Ês-tu certain que tu n’es pas une sorcière?”

  She went completely still. “Of course I’m not a witch. Why would you think that?”

  St. John lowered his arm. “Because you have bewitched me. I can’t concentrate on my research because you’re never far from my thoughts. I asked you and your friends to spend the night to
act as a distraction so I don’t have to spend the night sleeping on the veranda.”

  “Why are you sleeping out there? Don’t you know the bugs will eat you up?”

  “They don’t bite because I light a couple of citronella candles. Even Smokey sleeps out here with me.”

  “Are you saying you don’t sleep in the bed because I’m not here?”

  “Oui.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “That’s because I’m crazy about you, Hannah. You’ve gotten under my skin like an itch I can’t scratch.”

  She kissed his shoulder. “I’m here tonight, and as soon as my houseguests leave, I’ll be back.”

  St. John pulled her against his length, reached over and turned off the lamp, plunging the room into complete darkness. Sometime during the night Smokey jumped up on the bed and settled down at the foot to sleep.

  * * *

  The people from the party rental company arrived at seven to erect several tents in the garden. They’d just finished when another truck arrived with long tables, folding chairs, and tablecloths. Eustace was busy setting up portable stoves and gas grills, as his sons-in-law set out coolers stocked with steaks, fish, vegetables, produce, and dairy. Hannah introduced Tonya to Eustace, and he welcomed her with a bearlike hug.

  She, Nydia, and Samara busied themselves covering the many tables with tablecloths while Jasmine stacked paper plates, plastic cups, and plastic place settings on a table. Minutes later, eight chafing dishes were heating as Eustace and Tonya grilled bacon, sausage links, and slices of ham. Dozens of eggs were scrambled, with and without cheese, while pots of grits simmered on the stove in the outdoor kitchen. By the time the first family members arrived, Tonya had baked several pans of fluffy biscuits.

  Breakfast seemed to taste better in the open air as Hannah filled her plate with grits, scrambled eggs, sweet maple-glazed bacon, and a buttered biscuit. Jasmine had complained about gaining weight; she knew if she didn’t curb her own eating, she wouldn’t be able to fit into her clothes. She loathed having to buy a larger size when all she had to do was close her mouth.

  The younger Toussaints and Baptistes arrived, and the noise escalated when one of them assumed the role of DJ and played music spanning several generations. Hannah lost track of time and names as St. John introduced her to his family. Most of them were comfortable speaking French; they were impressed when she was able to reply in the same language. After a while they referred to her as la dame de St. John or St. John’s lady.

  By early afternoon the ubiquitous New Orleans dishes had replaced the breakfast menu. The mouthwatering aroma of barbecued ribs, chicken, andouille sausage, pork chops, shrimp, crab, and oysters lingered in the humid air. St. John told her his parents and his sister and her family could not attend because of prior commitments.

  One of his teenage cousins pulled her out to dance. Her initial self-consciousness fled once she was able to follow him as they danced to the classic hip-hop dance hit “Watch Me Whip/Nae Nae.” She pulled away from him, shaking her head when the DJ played “Back That Thing Up.” Flushed-faced and breathing heavily, she fell into St. John’s embrace when he held out his arms.

  “Now all the boys are going to want to dance with you.”

  “I don’t think so,” she gasped. “I’m done for today, and I’m definitely not going to back my thing up for some young kid to rub up on me.” She reached for a napkin off the table to blot her face and neck.

  St. John rested a hand at her waist over the sleeveless white cotton dress that ended mid-calf. “My family really likes you.”

  Hannah closed her eyes. “I like them. I believe they’re impressed because I try to communicate with my feeble French.”

  He kissed her shoulder. “Your French is far from feeble.”

  She opened her eyes, meeting his steady gaze. “You think that because you’re biased.”

  “Damn right I am when it comes to you.”

  Hannah fed off St. John’s strength as she leaned into him. She bit down on her lip to stop herself from telling him what lay in her heart. “Where’s Gage?”

  “I don’t know. If he didn’t show up, then he has to have a valid reason, because he never misses getting together with the family. Eustace’s wife is also MIA. She sprained her ankle and the doctor put her in a soft cast and told her to stay off her foot. Many of the older folks decided to stay home because they’re not able to withstand this heat. Maybe next year we’ll hold the reunion at a hotel. Then we won’t have to deal with the heat or rain.”

  The heat was beginning to take its toll on the revelers; they decided to leave to avoid dehydration or heatstroke. And in deference to the dangerous heat, St. John refused to offer anything alcoholic. Water had become the beverage of choice.

  “Instead of a hotel you can use the inn. It has central air, the ballroom is large enough to accommodate at least sixty, and Eustace can use any of the kitchens to prepare food.”

  “What about your guests?”

  “I just won’t book any guests for that day.”

  St. John nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

  “What’s to think about? You won’t have to pay for tents or tables and chairs because you’ll be able to use the ones from the café and supper club.”

  St. John pressed his mouth to her ear. “I can’t believe you came up with an alternative solution that quickly.”

  “If I’m going to become an innkeeper, then I have to think like an innkeeper.”

  Since Cameron’s call, Hannah had come to regard herself as New Orleans’s latest innkeeper. She told Tonya she would draw up a contract outlining the terms of their partnership so she could have her attorney look it over before accepting or rejecting what they’d discussed.

  “I love you for offering your place for next year’s reunion.”

  Hannah froze, unable to believe St. John had uttered the words branded on her brain like a permanent tattoo. Was he in love with her, or had he said he loved her in the same vein as someone saying they love an inanimate object? How many times had she said she loved the law, or she loved watching classic movies?

  “Love you, too.” She kissed his cheek. “I’m going to get some water.” When he didn’t respond to her declaration of affection, Hannah knew St. John wasn’t in love with her.

  Those assigned to the cleanup committee began clearing off and breaking down tables and stacking chairs. It took less than an hour to load vans and trucks with portable stoves and chafing dishes. The sun was beginning to set when Hannah said her good-byes to those who’d opted to linger as she and her friends climbed into Jasmine’s SUV for the drive back to the Garden District.

  * * *

  Hannah sat on the back porch with Jasmine, Tonya, and Nydia. Samara, who admitted she’d eaten and danced too much, had retired to bed.

  Jasmine patted her chest with a cold cloth. “Is it always this hot down here?”

  Hannah ran her fingertips over a glass of ice water. “It is hotter than usual.”

  “Even with the heat I had a good time,” Tonya said.

  “Of course you did,” Nydia said teasingly. “You spent the entire morning and afternoon with the chef who couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

  Tonya made a sucking sound with her tongue and teeth. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Nydia. The man has a wife, children, and grandchildren, so the only thing we have in common is preparing food.”

  Nydia grimaced. “My bad. I thought he was hitting on you.”

  “One man in my life is enough,” the chef countered. “Speaking of men, Hannah, I think you hit the jackpot with St. John. What’s not to like about the man?”

  Jasmine raised her hand. “I agree. I have to admit some of his male cousins were very nice. I couldn’t understand a word they were saying when they spoke French, but it sounded sexy.”

  Jasmine talking about men reminded Hannah of the hint she’d made to Cameron. “Jasmine, are you serious about possibly dating again?”

  “No. I
still have to give myself more time to get over my ex’s duplicity. I’m still carrying too much resentment to deal with a man, even if he’s nothing like my ex-husband. It wouldn’t be fair to him if I come at him like a crazy woman because of something he did or said to remind me of that snake I married.”

  Hannah agreed with Jasmine. It had taken her years to shake off Robert’s infidelity and to learn to trust a man again. “How long do you guys plan to stay?”

  “We’ll probably stay until Monday or Tuesday,” Tonya said. “I know we talked about staying two weeks, but if I’m going to relocate, then I have a lot of things to tie up. Nydia and Jasmine can stay if they want. I’ll rent a car and Samara and I will drive back to New York.”

  Jasmine shook her head. “You don’t have to do that, Tonya. If we came down together, then we’ll go back together. I’m still not sure whether I want to relocate, but it’s something I can definitely think about. Tonya, you and Nydia live in rentals, while I have to try and sell my condo.”

  Hannah pressed her palms together. “I’m sorry if you feel I’m putting pressure on you to give up everything that is familiar to you to move down here. I made the offer for you to come in with me because I feel I can trust y’all. How often to you hear of four women starting up a business together?”

  “Not often enough,” Jasmine replied.

  “The doors to DuPont House are always open to you if or when you feel the need for a change of scene. I have to go back to New York before the end of September to pack up my apartment. Maybe we can get together again for omelets, mimosas, and Bellinis.”

  Nydia nodded. “Isn’t that how this unlikely quartet got together in the first place?”

  Hannah laughed. “We certainly are a motley crew. Now that you’ll be leaving in three days and with this crazy heat we’ll stay close to home.”

  * * *

  It was early August when St. John got a telephone call from someone he’d believed he would never see or speak to again. Hannah had left his house to return home to meet with the engineer to ascertain whether they could install an elevator in the house.