Unfortunately, DeeDee didn't have the stamina to stick with modeling as a career. When she wasn't an instant success, she quickly dropped out of the game. She had, however, inherited their father's talent for landscaping, and had managed to make quite a name for herself over the past two years. Mary hoped that she'd continue to be successful and not let the business slide because she'd lost interest. DeeDee was smart, but lazy. If it wasn't easy, then she couldn't be bothered. Thank goodness Mom and Dad weren't here to see the mess she'd made out of her life.
A tap on her the side of her head brought her back to reality. "Earth to Mary. Is anybody in there?" DeeDee teased. "Are you going to tell me about the trip or not?"
"Sorry. I was thinking about Mom and Dad," Mary said. She took a deep breath and began the story with her first encounter with Nicole Martine and the bad taste it left in her mouth. When she told of meeting Jack Windom again, DeeDee's eye widened.
"This is the Jack from before, right? The one you were crazy about who dumped you?"
"He didn't dump me, as you so bluntly put it. He simply explained that he was engaged, and couldn't return my affections," Mary corrected.
DeeDee scoffed. "Yeah, right. That still makes him a jerk in my book, sis."
Mary counted to ten. "Are you going to let me finish, nor not?"
DeeDee giggled. "Sorry. I'm all ears."
Mary went on to describe the servants and the invitation to the Blue Moon ceremony.
"You're kidding!" her sister said. "A Voodoo ceremony? You didn't go, did you?"
When Mary nodded, DeeDee gasped. "Tell me, tell me!" she cried. She leaned forward, hands clasped, eyes wide. "Was it like the ones in the movies?"
Mary shook her head and described the ceremony and the vision she'd seen in the fire. "I don't know what I believe. That's not all. There's more."
DeeDee listened in stunned silence until Mary mentioned the apparition she'd seen in the hallway.
"A ghost? You're pulling my leg!" DeeDee said.
"No, it really happened."
"I don't know what to say. I've never known anyone who had something like this happen. Do you think these people were playing a sick joke, or was it really a ghost?"
Mary thought about the visions and the nightmare she had, then took a deep breath. "At first I thought they were trying to scare us off, but now I'm not so sure."
"You don't really believe you're still attracted to Jack? Do you?" DeeDee insisted.
Mary idly traced the rim of her cup with her index finger. "I wish I could say no, but I can't. There is some kind of attraction between us. It was obvious from the moment I set eyes on him." She glanced up and chose her next words carefully. "But, since he's married, I hardly think I'm going to spend much time with him to find out."
DeeDee shook her head. "Well, you certainly are a deep one. I don't know whether to cry or congratulate you. How come you never mentioned being psychic before?"
"Don't be ridiculous; I'm not psychic. Besides, nothing like this has ever happened before, and I sincerely hope it never happens again. It has not been fun."
DeeDee stared at her for a few minutes. "So, what are you going to do now?"
Mary held up an index finger. "Funny you should mention that. There is something you can do for me. I need a favor. Do you know anybody at the University who could translate the pages I got from the Parish courthouse? They're written in Cajun French. I can't make out more than one or two words."
DeeDee chewed her bottom lip. "Maybe. Give me the papers and I'll take them to a professor I know. He might be able to do it. If not, he's sure to know somebody who can."
Mary considered giving the pages to DeeDee, then decided against it. If something happened to them, it might be a long time before she'd have the chance to redo any research. "I need to copy them first. How about I drop them off tomorrow?"
"Don't you trust me, sister dear?"
Mary tossed her crumpled napkin into the trash bin. "You, I trust. It's those professor friends of yours I'm not too sure about."
DeeDee chuckled. "Well, I can't call anybody until Monday. Tell you what. If you buy me lunch at Louigi's on Monday, I'll give my friend a call." She glanced down at her watch. "Gotta go. I have a party at five." She reached over and hugged Mary. "I wish I could help you with this one, sis. It's a shame Jack's married."
Mary squeezed the arm circling her shoulders. "Oh well; life goes on. Did I remember to tell you how wonderful you are?"
DeeDee grinned. "Yes, but you can tell me again." Her smile faded and she hugged Mary tighter. "Don't worry, sis. Things will work out. You'll see." Her voice faded as she disappeared into the living room. "Just remember that Jack's already dumped you once. Take my advice and write him off--before you get hurt again."
Mary picked up her coffee cup and followed DeeDee to the door. "Thanks for everything. I'm sorry I'm such a grump." She hugged her neck one last time. "I don't know what I'd do without you. I'll see you tomorrow." After DeeDee left, she leaned against the door, trying to decide what to do first.
The layer of dust on the bookshelf next to the door motivated her into action. Now that she was up, she needed to put off going back to sleep as long as she could. Maybe if she stayed awake until she was exhausted, her awful dream wouldn't return. Despite her resolve not to think about him, thoughts of Jack surfaced once again. Had he remembered anything? Maybe he could talk to her about the nightmares and help her diffuse the terror she felt from them. After all, he'd been right there with her.
Her hand reached for the phone, then stilled. What was she doing? Jack was married, with a sick wife at home. The last thing he needed was her calling him about a stupid dream. She needed to forget him and figure this out on her own. It had worked last night, maybe it would work again. She wondered if her dream meant that subconsciously she didn't want to recall what happened and was running away from the truth. That worried her even more. What could have been so terrible that she didn't want to remember?
Chapter 11
"Well, what are you going to do about this?" Nicole demanded.
Philippe stared at his wife, then lowered the report to the coffee table. Moments ticked by as he took off his glasses, folded them, and stuck them back in his shirt pocket. "I don't think there's anything to say. It's all here in black and white. The contents of the house aren't worth what we thought. There's nothing we can do about it. Do me a favor, Cherie, and drop the subject. Please."
Nicole slammed her purse on the table. "But Philippe, we were planning on using that money to pay for my new Lamborghini®. I've already signed the contract for it. Where are you going to get the money to pay for it now?" She walked to the hall mirror and smoothed a few wisps of her hair back into place. "I've already told the members of my bridge group you're buying it for me." She turned to smile at him, hands on slender hips. "You should have seen Evelyn's face when I made that announcement. She was positively green with envy--all she got from her stingy old husband was a Mercedes® coupe." Her skin paled as the thought occurred to her that she might not get her expensive new car. "What am I supposed to tell them? That you've changed your mind? I can't do that--I'd be the laughing stock of the entire country club. Everybody knows I'm supposed to be getting my new car next month. I'd simply die of embarrassment if I had to tell them that, Philippe. I really would." She walked over and cuddled against him, running her hands across his chest. "Surely you wouldn't disappoint me again, darling. After all, I didn't complain when you said I couldn't have the emerald bracelet I wanted for my birthday. Surely you won't refuse me this one little car?"
He pushed her away and walked over to the elaborately carved liquor cabinet. "I warned you not to sign that contract. I don't have the cash flow right now to buy you a new sports car. All our money's tied up." He gulped the scotch he poured in one neat swallow, then poured another.
Her pleasant expression hardened. "Well, you'll just have to get the money somewhere. I will not allow you to embarrass me in front of all ou
r friends, Philippe. We do, after all, have a social position to maintain. Can't you cash in some of your precious bonds or something?" She pulled on a pair of expensive Italian gloves. "There's no way I'm going to cancel that order. You'll need the money in one month--two hundred forty thousand dollars."
She turned and paused at the front door. "I'll meet you at the country club for dinner at six. Don't be late. And Philippe, please don't wear that awful blue tie and blazer you're so fond of. We're having dinner with the country club board members tonight. Could you please wear the clothes I laid out on the bed?" She pulled her keys out of her purse. "One more thing. Make sure you don't arrive in a drunken stupor. You've been drinking far too much lately; people are starting to talk. We do have an image to uphold."
The door clicked shut behind her. Moments later, the engine of her Mercedes® roared to life, then trailed away. Philippe stared out the window and wondered if this was how a drowning man felt. Every time he struggled to keep ahead of the mounting bills, Nicole kept pulling him down. He poured one last drink, then staggered up the stairs.
The next morning Nicole made an appointment to meet Francois Duchette, a local realtor, at the plantation. She and Philippe arrived early to remove what few antiques remained. When they'd loaded everything they could fit into the trunk of her car, she asked Justine to bring Sadie and Markham into the drawing room.
Philippe stood uncomfortably in the rear and wished Nicole hadn't insisted on his coming. A knot formed in his stomach as she began her carefully prepared speech.
"As you know, my husband and I are selling the plantation, so your services won't be required any longer. I know that Mr. Ventereux's already left you some money in his will. That money will, of course, be used as severance pay for all your years of loyal service. As of today, you have two weeks to make other arrangements. It's unfortunate, but we will need to check all your luggage to make sure every valuable item has been accounted for. It's not that we don't trust you; our attorney has advised us to have every bag checked. I sincerely apologize for any inconvenience that may cause."
Philippe felt a pang of sympathy for the servants. She'd gone too far this time. He wondered if he should step in and try to salvage what he could out of this awkward situation. Though she was handling the situation badly, he didn't want her turning on him again. He'd had enough of her vicious tongue last night on the way home.
Justine stood up. "I'll have you know we aren't in the habit of stealing anything, Mrs. Martine. If we'd wanted any of your so-called antiques, we could have taken them a long time ago." Head held high, she walked out of the room.
Sadie stood and shook a bony finger in Nicole's direction. "I curse you and yours." She spit in the direction of Nicole's feet, grabbed Markham's arm, and dragged him out of the room.
Philippe hid a smile as Nicole stared at their retreating figures, mouth wide open. What did she expect? Did she really think they'd stand there and allow her to call them thieves without saying anything?
The doorbell rang and a few moments later, Francois Duchette's voice echoed down the hall. Philippe winced. Duchette was a beady-eyed, skinny little man with an unusually deep voice. Francois came off a little too suave for his taste; he didn't trust the realtor one bit. The way he figured it, anyone that slick had to be crooked.
He watched Nicole rearrange her scowl into a smile when she heard Francois' voice. What on earth did she see in the little weasel? Was she completely blinded by his flattery?
She held out her hands. "Francois, it's so good to see you again. I appreciate your coming out on such short notice."
He squeezed her fingers. "Nicole, as usual, you look marvelous." He shot a glance toward Philippe. "Hello, Philippe. How are you?"
Philippe masked his dislike and managed a false smile. "I'm fine, thanks." Irritated, he glanced down at his watch. "I have a meeting in one hour, so we need to get this wrapped up," he muttered.
Francois wagged a short, blunt finger. "Tut, tut, dear boy. I've already gone around the outside. I must tell you it's going to be a real problem to unload this white elephant. It's in terrible condition."
Nicole linked her arm in his. "Yes. Well, perhaps the inside is better. Let's go upstairs and see what we have to work with." She turned to Philippe. "Why don't you wait here while Francois and I tour the rest of the house? I know how much taking care of this kind of detail bores you."
Philippe walked to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink. "Make it quick. I don't want to be late for my meeting."
She waved a gloved hand. "It won't take long for Francois to get the feel of the house. He must acquaint himself with its ambiance so he can list all its positive qualities to prospective buyers. After all, it's not every day a genuine plantation goes on the market, now is it?"
Philippe ran a hand through his thinning hair and carried his drink to the sofa.
Laughter announced their return. He glanced up as they entered, but didn't move.
Francois removed his arm from around Nicole's waist and perched on a chair. "I hate to tell you this, but this property isn't worth half a million." Nicole opened her mouth, and he shushed her with his hand. "I mean it, Nicole. It's too run-down. And, it's too far off the main highway. I've given this considerable thought, and I think you should have a survey company divide the land into twenty-five acre parcels. Of course, the swamp areas won't bring much, but the rest of the property is pretty well situated. If you parcel it out to a developer and sell the house separately, you might come out with about four hundred fifty thousand dollars. Less my commission, of course."
He curled his fingers toward him and examined his cuticles. "The first thing we need to do is get a current oil and gas survey on the land, to make sure there aren't any hidden assets."
Relieved to hear Francois confirm what he'd anticipated the house and property would bring, Philippe took out a cigarette. "Why don't you schedule the surveys, and we'll include that as part of the contract?"
Francois held out a lighter. "Sorry, I don't do surveys. I can give you the names of three firms, but you'll have to set it up." He handed them a listing agreement and once it had been signed, stuffed it back in his briefcase. "You need to schedule the survey as soon as possible. When did you say the staff was moving out?"
"I've given them two weeks," Nicole answered. "I'll be here to get the keys and have the locks changed."
Francois brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. "It's always good to change the locks after the servants leave. You never know what kind of damage they might do if they think they can get back into the house."
Philippe walked toward the hall. "I hate to rush you, but if that's everything, we need to leave."
Francois' eyes widened at the abrupt dismissal, but he said nothing as Philippe escorted him out the door. He blew a kiss to Nicole, then drove away.
"You didn't have to be so rude, Philippe," Nicole scolded as they left. "He was only doing his job."
Philippe hid his disgust. "I don't have time to argue. I want as little to do with him as possible. If you want to meet him back at the house another day, that's fine. Just don't ask me to be here."
"You're so childish," she complained. "Francois is a very cultured, educated man. I'm sure you'll change your mind once you get to know him better. I'll invite him for dinner one night this week ."
Philippe pulled the car off the road and turned to her. "I want you to listen very carefully to what I have to say. I don't want that man coming over for dinner. Not tonight, not any night. In fact, I don't want to see him until I have to sign the final papers for the house." He stared at her until she looked away, then pulled back onto the road.
"Well, fine," Nicole sniffed. "Honestly, Philippe, sometimes I just don't understand you. I thought you wanted to sell this stupid plantation. We get the premier realtor in the area to come out, and what do you do? You insult the man. Not only that, you develop such a dislike for him, you refuse to include him in our social circle. Sometimes you don't mak
e any sense at all."
"I don't care what you think. I don't want him at our house." He turned into their driveway, and stopped at the front door. "Be a dear, Cherie, and let's not argue any more. I'm already late for my meeting. If I don't get there soon, there'll be hell to pay."
She stepped onto the driveway and slammed the door. Philippe waited until she was inside, then took a bottle of scotch from his pocket and guzzled several swallows. This meeting with his creditors wasn't going to be pleasant and he needed all the fortification he could get. As his car roared down the driveway, he tossed the empty bottle into the bushes.
He knew his construction company had been operating in the red for several months and he was nearly broke. It wasn't his fault the economy was so bad people weren't buying houses. In a month or two, things were bound to pick up. If he could just hold off the vultures until they sold the plantation, he'd be okay. Otherwise, they'd lose everything. If only he could stop Nicole from running up bills faster than he could earn money to pay them.
He thought back to the early days of their marriage, when she'd been attentive and loving. What had happened to turn her into the selfish woman she was today? Had the change been so gradual he hadn't noticed it? Maybe once his business picked up he'd be able to scrape up the money and buy the car she wanted. At least that would make her happy and things between them would be good again. She was an expensive woman to keep, but damn it, he loved her. And he'd do anything to keep her. Anything.
Chapter 12
Jack leaned his head against the back of his chair and closed the file sitting in front of him. It wasn't any good trying to concentrate on the descriptions, his mind was elsewhere. He reached to pick up the phone, then stopped.
He wanted to call Mary, but wasn't sure if that was a good idea or not. Ever since he'd left the plantation, he done nothing but think about her. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he was trying too hard not to think about her, and it was having the opposite effect.
Blue Moon Page 8
