by Lynn Shurr
“Who the hell is Louise Dillman?” Big Lou spat. Her attorney leaned away to avoid the spray. “Everyone knows I am the fabulous Layla Devlin.” She struck a pose with a hand on a jutting, bony hip and raised the other to uplift her dirty dreads, letting her locks cascade down again as if every man in the courtroom desired to stroke her hair.
“You are. Be quiet. Your Honor…” Her harried lawyer began again.
“Yes, yes, I see your point.” The judge, his keen dark eyes parked on either side of a beaky nose beneath a white head of hair, resembled an eagle about to dive at prey. He zeroed in on Tom and Alix. “Mr. Billodeaux, Miss Lindstrom, I see you back there. Please rise. Is this satisfactory to you?”
Tom answered. “As long as she doesn’t get out again. If so, our family must be notified at once.” Alix nodded, throwing in her future with Tom’s family.
“Reasonable.” The judge raised his gavel to make it so, but a man so nondescript he would have made a superior spy had he not called attention to himself by standing, cried out “May I address the court, please?”
“You have something pertinent to add, Mr…”
“Smith, Lee Smith. Much of this is my fault.” He raked a hand through thinning brown hair. “I am a friend of Miss Devlin’s, her most ardent admirer actually.”
Big Lou covered her ruined mouth and emitted a girlish giggle. “Lee-Lee is one of my biggest fans. He wants to be me.”
The judge raised his brows in a doubting expression. “Go on, Mr. Smith.”
“Layla, Miss Devlin, contacted me just before the New Year saying she’d been cured and released. She asked for money to come to New Orleans and start over. I agreed and offered to provide a place to live while she pursued her career as an actress. She stayed with me only a short time before disappearing. You see I work nights in the Quarter and couldn’t keep a good eye on her. In the past, a heavy dose of hydrocodone would pacify her and put her out for the night, but…she went on the streets and developed a taste for crystal meth. I bailed her out whenever she called, but she wouldn’t stay with me and let me protect her. That drug has ruined her. Once she possessed a lush body, a brilliant smile, and those violet eyes…”
“Do you have a point to make, Mr. Smith? Others are waiting.”
“Yes, I ask she be placed in a facility closer to New Orleans so I might help in her recovery with frequent visits. I truly believe I am the only one who cares about her any more. Even her mother appears to have given up.” Lee’s pale, watering blue eyes pleaded with the judge, then turned to the back of the courtroom to appeal to Tom and Alix.
“What do the victims have to say?” the judge asked.
“I guess that’s okay,” Tom answered.
“As long as she doesn’t get out again,” Alix said.
“I cannot guarantee that if she should show improvement, but the court will notify you if that occurs.”
“All right, I guess.” Eager to be gone, Alix shifted her feet and twirled her knitted cap around one finger in impatience.
Lee Smith rushed to their row and kissed their hands, their cheeks. “Thank you. Thank you for your compassion toward one of the greatest actresses of our time.”
“Damn right!” Big Lou crowed.
“So ordered. Bailiff, take the defendant away.” The gavel slammed. “Next case.”
The paparazzi lay in wait just outside the courthouse doors. Despite uttering, “No comment” every few feet, cameras flashed and caught Tom with his arm protectively around Alix’s waist. They grabbed a cab home.
Alix settled back in the seat as they sped away. “Hard to believe Big Lou was once Layla Devlin, or that Lee looks so much like her in his act. Strange world.”
“Well, this is New Orleans, honey. You aren’t in Madison any more.” Tom put his arm around her shoulders and snuggled her in for the ride.
At the condo, they let off steam racing up the stairs. Tom keyed in the lock numbers. “Bye week is nearly over.” The way he said it implied something else entirely.
“Yeah, it is. I know how I’d like to spend the rest of it.”
“Me, too. Your bedroom or mine?” About time for some action after days and nights of doing nothing but cuddling and talking out their problems. Eagerly, Tom backed Alix into their living room, his hands on her firm rump, his mouth on her wide lips—only to find their space awash in Billodeauxs overflowing the brown couch and occupying the floor in front of the fireplace.
“About time you got home. I called a team meeting,” said Daddy Joe.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Alix and Tom moved to the center of the living room. Xochi ducked her head since she’d obviously let the horde inside the condo. Joe slapped down a tabloid featuring their pictures and Big Lou on the coffee table. “Exactly why didn’t you call after this happened? We had to find out from our housekeeper’s trashy magazine that the two of you were attacked by a maniac…and not just any maniac.”
“Um, didn’t want to worry you. It’s all over now, anyhow. Layla Devlin is on her way back to an asylum,” Tom offered, his ears turning that telltale shade of red.
Alix knew her face flushed as she turned overly warm and tossed the ski cap to lie beside the scandal sheet, but deep inside, she felt a tiny thrill to be included in a real Billodeaux family team meeting where serious decisions were made and childhood punishments had been meted out.
The legendary Joe Billodeaux paced before her, waving his arms in agitation. With worry deepening the soft lines in her face, Mama Nell sat on the sofa next to Stacy who took up much more room than usual with her seven-month-size belly. Dean kept a comforting arm around her shoulders since her waist had disappeared long ago. Teddy sat in his red wheelchair off to one side while long-legged Lorena and Mack lounged in the recliners. The rest and shorter part of the clan settled on the area rug. Alix wished she could take a picture for her album.
“This is partly my fault,” Joe admitted.
“It is?” Tom’s red brows raised at this small reprieve.
“Yes, I got word when Layla went missing in Iowa after Christmas, but she had no ID, no resources. I thought they’d pick her up fairly soon. The last thing I expected, me, was to have her show up in New Orleans and stalk my children. Knox kept an eye out for her if she tried to get onto the ranch, and we let anyone else who might care know.”
Dean interrupted his father. “Dad, I should have recognized her from years ago and had her arrested instead of just getting the cops to remove her all the time. Truly, I thought the woman was harmless, not the person who nearly killed Mom.”
Stacy nudged her husband with an elbow. “All you had eyes for the single time Layla visited the ranch was her Mustang convertible. Now, you own one, but we’d better be thinking of a family car pretty soon.”
Mama Nell held up her hands. “Enough trying to take the blame, though I do appreciate you not heaping it all on Tom. Layla is locked away again. We came mainly to provide support in case a messy trial loomed ahead and to ask you to keep us in the loop of your life. Alix, dear, I’m so sorry you were drawn into past Billodeaux drama and might have been hurt.”
Alix tried to keep her excitement under wraps. “I keep telling Tom I’m a big, hearty girl who can take care of herself. He finally found that out when I helped take down Big Lou. Actually, I’m the one who identified her by her violet eyes.”
“See,” said Xochi. “I told you Alix could handle anything this family can dish out.”
“I can!” Alix shouted with enthusiasm.
Mama Nell stood and opened her arms. “Come get a hug.”
Alix stooped to accept the embrace. As she bent, her phone, still on manners mode from the courthouse, vibrated in a pocket. Nell released her. “It’s my Mom. I’ll go into the kitchen. You keep on with the meeting.”
“Not much more to say, but I tell you me, boy, you call us first when something like this happens.” Joe wagged a finger at Tom.
“I guess I just wanted to be the grownup and handle
it myself for a change.”
“As Mawmaw Nadine would say, you never get too big for your family,” Dean added. “We have some happy news since everyone is gathered. Stacy and I have decided on a name for the baby. I wanted to call her Nellwyn after Mom.”
Alix, only half listening to her mother, stuck her head out in time to see Nell look at her eldest son with enough warmth to melt chocolate. Then, Stacy spoke up and lowered the heat to tepid. “I said the child should have her own special name.”
“Certainly,” Mama Nell said. “That’s only right.” If any hurt bubbled to the surface, the woman hid it quickly.
“We compromised. See, we’re getting good at this. We settled on Wynn, part of Mom’s name. And I like to win, we both do, so there you go,” Dean revealed.
Regaining his cockiness, Tom asked, “Would her middle name be Tomasina?”
“We haven’t gotten that far yet. We’ll take it under consideration,” his brother said diplomatically.
“No, we won’t,” Stacy replied.
Alix stepped out in full view grinning at the assemblage, enjoying the byplay and paying no heed to her mother’s voice until she heard the admonition, “You have to move away from that dangerous city, across the lake at the very least. Those Billodeauxs attract trouble, and it’s obvious from what the papers are saying Tom can’t take care of you. You had to fight that lunatic off practically by yourself. Your father feels the same way. We’ll come down there and help you find a place.”
“I’m not moving, Mom.” The words came out more forcefully than she intended. “Yes, I’ll give you one good reason why. Tom and I are getting married!”
Oops. All those brown eyes turned her way. Teddy wheeled his chair around to stare at her with his baby blues. A void of silence surrounded her in the room and from the phone pressed to her ear. Then, the congratulations and questions and suggestions burst into the air like fireworks at a Billodeaux family Fourth of July celebration.
Her mother screeched into her ear, “Nels, Tille, Alix is marrying Tom Billodeaux!”
“So happy for you both,” from Mama Nell, a “Perfect” from Xochi, an offer to help plan the wedding from Stacy, and a demand to see the ring from Lorena. The twins muttered something about another bridesmaid’s dress, and little Edie jumped up and down at the prospect of being flower girl again. The men simply seemed stunned at the abrupt announcement.
“Tom, what did I say about keeping us in the loop?” Joe finally said.
“We were going to keep it quiet until after the season. There is no ring yet. We’re going to go together to pick it out.”
“I can recommend Leslie at Schifferman’s. He has great taste,” Dean offered. “I call best man!”
“Wouldn’t have anyone else, bro. Right now I only know the ring must be a blue-white diamond with the depth to match her eyes and the sparkle of sunlight on the snow in Wisconsin.”
A collective “awww” went up from the women, Alix included. “Nothing, Mom. Tom just said something so nice. Sure.” Alix held out her phone. “Repeat that for your future motherin-law.”
Tom did, though embarrassment set in when the three youngest boys snickered. He aimed a finger at them. “Your day will come. No, not you, Mrs. Lindstrom. Ah, sure, I’d like to ask Mr. Lindstrom’s permission to marry his daughter.” Not helping that Dean, Teddy, and his dad joined in the laughter. Still, he got the words out, received the consent, and tossed the phone back to Alix like a hot ebelskiver burning his hands.
“Look, Mom. Nothing has been planned without you. I’m certain the diamond will be as big as Stacy’s, but we want to keep this out of the news until the end of the football season, okay? Sure, start looking for reception venues, but don’t tell anyone else yet except Rika and Morfar. Yes, I’ll call him shortly. I’ve got company. Gotta go…bye.” Alix exhaled.
“I mean it about helping with the wedding,” Stacy said. “I love planning special occasions.”
Tom’s forehead wrinkled. “You don’t want one of those big white weddings, do you?”
“Oh, no! I want the full Swedish in Wisconsin when the weather warms up, probably June. It’ll have to be a Lutheran service. I hope that won’t upset anyone.”
“Only Mawmaw Nadine. She’ll get used to the idea,” Nell murmured.
“What else does a full Swedish require?” the future groom asked, a little worried.
“Nothing too strange, but I will have to teach you to polka and how to hold your aquavit. You, too, Dean.”
“Okay, sounds like fun. No rush. We have plenty of time.”
“No, you don’t,” Stacy told him, and all the women nodded in agreement.
“Fine, but let’s try to keep this to ourselves until the end of December. Looks like we’re headed to the playoffs again, and we don’t need the distraction.”
“Exactly what I was about to say.” Dean stood and hoisted his pregnant wife out of the soft cushions. “I guess we should let the lovebirds alone now that everything is settled.”
“Oh, I thought with the family together, we could go out to lunch at Commander’s Palace,” Mama Nell suggested.
“Mais, yeah, I already made the reservations for a large table.” Daddy Joe checked his watch.
“I could eat,” Alix said.
“But what about…never mind. Lunch it is.” If they could get them fed and on their way, all would be well. Tom motioned his family toward the door.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
As Dean said, the Sinners had a season to finish. Alix and Tom still sat side by side on the bench, took turns kicking into the practice net, and tried very hard to keep their PDA’s to a discreet minimum on the field, in the locker room, and around town. Driving for the playoffs, the Sinners dropped one game but won the others. Alix got roughed a few times, but nothing serious. Tom managed to keep his cool.
She gave him lots of extra credit points for spending their brief Thanksgiving break in Wisconsin scouting reception locations with her mom, dad, and Tille who had been persuaded to act as their decoy on one condition. Vince Barbaro must be included among their groomsmen. Agreed. So, they slogged from place to place with Tille masquerading as the bride-to-be.
“Too small, too small, too small,” her mother kept saying. “We must be able to seat three hundred.” Where those three hundred would come from, Alix had no idea. Even if the entire team and management showed up as well as most of the town where she’d spent her childhood, she doubted they’d need a hall that large.
Finally, they found a venue big as a barn. In fact, it had been a barn at one time, a very old one with stone walls and hand-hewn beams. The owner, Lina Holmquist, a sturdy and convincing woman who’d devoted years converting the ancestral dairy farm into a wedding destination and the farmhouse to a B & B, showed pictures of previous receptions with the open rafters festooned in floral garlands. Plenty of room for a band and dancing, rows of trestle tables, and a long buffet line. In fact, she’d throw in the use of the replica Swedish church, which sat on a knoll above the barn and seated two hundred. “I know the area appears gray and muddy now, but imagine it in June, a walkway lined with white peonies connecting the two buildings. Of course, you can have your hometown minister preside. Plenty of parking in the pastures, too.” Lina patted the thick gray-blonde braids wrapped around her head as if a stray wisp might change their minds about her efficiency. “I will be here to oversee everything. No need for a wedding planner.”
Standing between Tom and her father and as bored as both of them, Alix said, “I like it fine. We should book it.”
“I think a city wedding in Madison might be better,” Tille said. “Maybe in the art museum. That would be so chic.”
Alix glanced sidelong at Tom. Both burst into laughter at their private joke. The owner quickly added, “We sow the meadows with wildflowers. No city can complete with that natural beauty.”
Alix placed her large hand on Tille’s small shoulder and squeezed. “It’s perfect for you and what’s-his-na
me, don’tcha think?”
“I guess.” Her sister sighed.
In the interest of keeping the secret as long as possible, Nels Lindstrom signed the contract and nailed down the date for the first week in June. “This is dry work. I could use a beer. Saw a tavern down the road. Anyone interested?”
All but Tille were. She requested wine. They shared a “mission completed” toast. As for Alix, she dreamed of next November when she’d be sharing fried turkey at Lorena Ranch and all this fuss would be behind her.
****
The Sinners earned themselves a bye week and a home field advantage in the playoffs as might be expected from a team who’d lost only two games. They crushed their wild card opponent and moved on to the next, a more crucial challenge with tough opposition. The game came down to seconds with the Sinners three points behind, and so far Dean was unable to shake free and find an uncovered receiver in the end zone. Fourth down and one timeout saved for just such an occasion.
Coach Buck called for the field goal team to trot out. He fooled no one. Trick play in progress, and Alix knew which he’d choose. In fact, she argued to carry the ball as no one would suspect her, but Tom gained that privilege. Her orders were to lean back instead of catching the high snap and stand aside as the kicker took the ball over the top of the wall formed by the two lines just a couple of yards in front of the goal.
Alix had never feared for Tom during a game—in that parking garage confronted by a mad woman, sure, but not on the field. He caught the ball and surged into the solid pack of bodies. His long legs propelled him over the top, only to meet resistance from two stalwart linemen shoving him back. He held out the ball, trying to break the plane by squeezing between them. From the rear, Vince and Beef shoved at his slender hips, then boosted his thighs. With one massive effort, Tom shot over the top of the pack, head first, legs in the air, and disappeared.
