False Pretenses (11 page)

“How long did you work there?”

“A couple years. The time flew by. I never stopped learning new things.”

“So why’d you leave?”

“Something awful happened.” Zoe stared at the wall without blinking until her eyes had watered sufficiently. “Our house burned down. My parents were killed. The fire marshal said it was arson, that someone had doused the outside of the house with gasoline. But the police never discovered who was responsible or why they did it.”

“Where were you when this happened?”

“At the restaurant. We didn’t close until eleven, or I would’ve been home. Maybe if I had been, I could’ve warned them and gotten them out. Maybe they’d still be alive.”

“Or maybe you would all be dead, Zoe.” Pierce gently squeezed her hand. “I can’t imagine how horrible it must’ve been to lose your family like that.”

“The worst part”—Zoe made her eyes water until a single tear trickled down her face—“is wondering why I lived and they died.” Was she really telling him this pack of lies without even flinching?

“You’ll drive yourself nuts trying to figure that out. Maybe God has something special for you to do.”

Zoe looked into his compassionate dark eyes and continued the story, almost believing it herself. “I moved in with the Thibodeaux family next door, and they treated me like a daughter. But after a few months I couldn’t bear to be in that neighborhood anymore. Everything and everyone reminded me of what I’d lost. After my parents’ estate was settled, I moved to Morgan City and went to work at Jourdain’s, a really upscale Cajun restaurant. I made friends with the owners’ daughter, Annabelle, and eventually we rented an apartment together. I worked at Jourdain’s a couple years until I discovered Les Barbes. From the moment I set foot in this gorgeous little town and the Roux River Bayou, my Cajun roots went down, and I knew it’s where I belonged.”

“It must have been great to feel at home again. So how did Zoe B’s come about?”

She took a slow, deep breath. Pierce was such a nice guy. How could she tell him such blatant lies? “I had tucked my inheritance away, hoping someday I’d open my own eatery. I started looking around and saw a sign that this building was for rent. Monsieur Champoux let me sign a lease to rent just half of the first floor and remodel it the way I wanted.” At least that part was true.

“It looks great,” Pierce said. “Very inviting.”

“Thanks. I did the painting and refinished the floors myself. I made the curtains and the tablecloths and found an unbelievable closeout sale on the French country furniture. It took everything I had to get Zoe B’s going. And all those years of restaurant experience paid off. The place was a hit and just took off. The locals love it, but I get a lot of tourist business, too.”

Pierce moved his gaze slowly around the room. “I just live a couple miles up the bayou, but I didn’t realize Zoe B’s was here until a month ago. Discriminating Cajun that I am, I’m impressed with the cuisine. Your crawfish étoufée is the best I’ve tasted. You’re doing a great job here. I admire you for following your dream. I love to cook and have always wanted to be a chef, but I have neither the credentials nor the experience. The fact that I’ve taught history at Roux River High School for seven years means nothing on a résumé for a wannabe chef.”

“Pierce, for heaven’s sake, you’re only thirty-one,” Zoe said. “Don’t give up on your dream.…”

A screechy, scraping sound brought her back to the present, and she realized the rain had stopped and her wipers were still on. She turned them off and backed off the accelerator. All she needed was a ticket stamped with the date and location.

The one thing she had never lied about was her feelings for Pierce. How could she have known when she lied to him about her background that he would win her heart and she would fall head over heels in love with him—and become his wife? Until she met Pierce, hadn’t she found men to be despicable and untrustworthy? Could it be any more ironic that now it was she who could not be trusted?

She hated the lies! But what was she supposed to do after the fact? If Pierce ever found out she could rattle off falsehoods like a mantra, would he even be able to stand the sight of her?

God, I’m not a bad person. You know I didn’t set out to hurt anyone. I was just trying to survive.

She saw a green highway sign. Only twenty-five miles to Alexandria. She suddenly felt light-headed and queasy. Nothing in her wanted to go through with this.

CHAPTER 10

Pierce Broussard stood next to the table by the window at Zoe B’s, missing Zoe and commiserating with Hebert, Father Sam, and Tex about Remy Jarvis’s murder.

“Pierce, I hope you don’t mind us occupying this table so long,” Father Sam said. “Normally we’d have been out of here an hour ago.”

“You’re fine. Nobody’s having to wait to be seated.” Pierce put his hand on the priest’s shoulder. “You gents stay as long as you like. I’ll have Savannah bring you more coffee.”

“I tink we’re all shell-shocked,” Hebert said. “Hasn’t been a lynching on da bayou in decades.”

Pierce nodded. “So why now? And why Remy?”

“Guess all we can do is surmise,” Father Sam said, “until the sheriff catches the lost souls who did this.”

Pierce looked out the window as two doves landed on the balcony railing above Sole Mates, the women’s shoe store across the street and three doors down. “I know I sound like a stuck CD, but I don’t understand why there wasn’t a whisper of this beforehand.”

“Not everyone carryin’ a grudge speaks up before he blows,” Tex said.

Father Sam took his glasses and began wiping the lenses with his napkin. “I’m encouraged that Reverend Isaiah Rhodes from Praise Tabernacle expressed his outrage and asked whites not to retaliate, but to wait for the authorities to sort this out. He’s a well-respected clergyman. People will listen.”

“Reasonable people will,” Pierce said. “All we need is for a few
un
reasonable folks to let their anger turn physical. We’re liable to have race riots on our hands.”

Half a minute of silence went by.

Finally Hebert said, “Did I tell y’all I knew Remy when he was jus’ a little
peeshwank?
Kids called him Runt till one year he shot up like a weed and towered over all o’ dem.”

Tex raised his bushy eyebrows. “I can’t picture that Texas-size boy ever bein’ a runt.”

“Dat was a long time ago.” Hebert traced the rim of his coffee cup with his index finger. “I’ll tell you sometin’ ’bout Remy Jarvis: What he lacked in his brain, he made up for in his heart. Emile loved on him, and it showed.”

“I wonder how Emile’s doing,” Pierce said.

“Da man’s brokenhearted.” Hebert shook his head. “He’s gonna need his friends to hold him up.”

“And we will,” Father Sam said. “Did I tell you Emile and Remy went to Mass at Saint Catherine’s when I was the rector there? I feel like I’ve lost family.”

“We all do.” Pierce felt emotion tighten his throat as Remy’s daily salutation, “Happy day, everybody,” echoed in his head. “I just can’t believe such a gentle, decent human being came to the end of his life, hanging from a tree.”

Zoe turned at the open wrought-iron gate, and as she drove toward the grand entrance of the Woodmore House, her gaze took in its grandeur: the huge magnolia trees lining either side of the circle drive, the sweeping lawns dotted with weeping willows, dogwoods, crepe myrtles, and the white gazebo at one side of the flower garden. Had it gotten more beautiful in the past ten years? Or was it just that she had taken it for granted when she worked for Adele?

A silver-haired man wearing a charcoal gray uniform opened her door and tipped the rim of his hat. She immediately recognized him as Julien Menard, Adele’s chauffeur.

“Hello, Shelby. Mrs. Woodmore told me you were coming. I’m so glad to see you. You look lovely. The shorter haircut becomes you.”

“Thank you.” Zoe got out and faced her old friend. She took his hands. “It’s great seeing you, too, Julien. You just get more handsome with age. I’m surprised you’re still here.”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t understand it myself. Mrs. Woodmore doesn’t go many places these days. She doesn’t need a chauffeur. It’d be cheaper for her to call a cab. I’m just grateful. I’d like to put in a couple more years before I retire.”

“How’s your family?”

“Oh, my sweet Marie is walking the streets of gold. I miss her sorely. But my kids are all married now, and I’ve got seven grandchildren. Can you believe it? Tell me about yourself.” He held up her left hand. “Is that a wedding ring?”

Zoe smiled. “Yes, I’m married to the proudest Cajun you’d ever want to meet. Five years now.”
Please don’t ask his name.

Julien’s face beamed. “Do you have children?”

“Not yet. One of these days, though.”

“What does your husband do?” Julien stole a glance at the sporty blue BMW coupe she was leasing.

“Goodness, look at the time.” Zoe stared at her watch. “Mrs. Woodmore expected me five minutes ago. I probably should go inside. Maybe we can talk later.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll park your car around the side until you’re ready to leave. The butler’s name is Edward, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s great seeing you, Shelby. It truly is.”

Zoe smiled at her Julien, then straightened her dress and walked up to the front door. Before she could ring the bell, a middle-aged African-American man in a dark suit opened the door.

“Edward, I’m Shelby Sieger,” she said. “Mrs. Woodmore’s expecting me.”

“Yes, ma’am. She’s waiting in the sunroom. She said you’d know how to find it.”

“Thanks.”

Zoe took a slow deep breath, then walked past the polished oak staircase, through the elegant blue and white parlor, and down a long hallway painted deep yellow and trimmed with white crown moldings.

She stopped in the doorway of the glass room, rendered speechless by the splendor of the massive live oaks that formed a basket weave of shade over the exquisitely manicured grounds.

“Heart stopping, isn’t it?” Adele’s voice had aged, but her southern drawl was a dead giveaway. “Hello, Shelby.”

“Hello, Mrs. Woodmore.” Zoe turned her gaze to her former employer, who was seated on the gold, blue, and green floral print love seat. Adele’s hair was snow white now, and she was too thin, but her charming smile was as disarming as ever. She still wore a simple gold cross around her neck.

“Come here and let me look at you, hon.”

Zoe went over to Adele and extended her hand. “I appreciate your agreeing to meet with me on such short notice.”

“I was thrilled when you called. I’ve been praying for you all these years. And your family. I know your mama’s health was failing when you left here. Did she pass?”

Zoe’s heart began to pound. Was she crazy to think she could do this? How could she undo all those lies—or even remember them all? How could she tell Adele the truth about why she left? What if Adele had her arrested?

“Oh, hon, you’re all flushed and perspiring. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ve just wondered about how things turned out, that’s all. Please sit wherever you like. That white chair behind you is luscious.”

Zoe took two steps back and sank into the chair.

“Would you care for a glass of iced raspberry tea and some homemade butter cookies? I know how much you like them.”

“I’d love some,” Zoe said, before she had time to consider whether or not she could keep anything down. “I’m amazed you remember after all these years.”

Adele laughed. “I still have my mind, even if the rest of me’s withering away.” The elderly woman folded her hands in her lap, her faded blue eyes seeming to probe Zoe’s thoughts. “I must say I was shocked when you called. I didn’t expect to see you again. You said there was something real important you needed to discuss with me.”

“There is,” Zoe heard herself say. “I-I’m just not sure where to begin.”

“Well, start at the beginning, hon. Take all the time you need.”

The beginning? Perhaps it was better just to give her the bottom line. If Adele was going to call the authorities, why waste time agonizing over the litany of lies she had told? Her heart nearly pounded out of her chest. How could she have allowed herself to get trapped this way? Was it too late to just get up and run out to her car? It wasn’t as though Adele could find her. She didn’t even know her legal name.

“Shelby, are you feeling all right, sugar? Your face is a peculiar shade of gray. Let me ring for Edward and have him turn the air conditioner down some. It’s awful muggy today, what with the tropical storm carrying on down the bayou and all.”

Zoe felt as if her mouth were stuffed with cotton. No words would come out. She had imagined this moment almost every day for the past ten years. Could she actually do it? Did she want to? What had she gotten herself into?

“Shelby, say something, hon. You really look ill.…”

She was vaguely aware of Adele’s voice and the woman’s hand grasping her wrist. Suddenly she was clammy cold and perspiring. Dizzy. What was happening? All she could see was gray fuzz, and it seemed as if one side of the floor had been raised at an angle, and she was slowly sliding off … falling … falling … into nothingness.

Pierce walked slowly through the kitchen at Zoe B’s, admiring the way Dempsey Tanner had laid out the buffet of sauces, spices, and ingredients he would need to prepare orders during the lunch rush.

“Very efficient.” Pierce patted him on the back. “I’m anxious to see if we get comments on the seafood gumbo.”

“We should. It’s incredible.” Dempsey looked up, his red eyebrows looking shiny under the florescent lights. “Are you ever going to tell me what you added?”

“Are you kidding? Then I’d have to kill you.” Pierce laughed. “It’s going to remain my little secret as I cling to the hope of surpassing Marie Nadeau in the Gumbo Classic.”

“Seriously, boss. This is superb. I realize I’m partial, but I recognize perfection when I taste it.”

“Well, I’ve played around with it for years.” Pierce picked up the big spoon and began moving it slowly back and forth in the gumbo. “Marie is probably trying to improve hers, too. Let’s just hope she hasn’t discovered something that makes hers even better. I really want to win first place—just once. Not that I haven’t enjoyed second place. But I feel like I’ve finally cinched it.”

Dempsey wiped his hands on his apron. “Heard anything from Zoe?”

“No. And I’m concerned about her ability to focus on her driving, especially in this heavy rain. She wanted me to stay here and manage things, but I should’ve insisted on going with her.”

Dempsey shook his head. “Zoe would’ve worried about the eatery. You know how she is.”

“I do. That’s why I agreed to stay. I hesitated to tell her the news about Remy before she got behind the wheel. But I didn’t want her finding out on the radio.”

“What’d she say?”

“She cried. She was so fond of Remy. They go way back. But more than anything, she seemed concerned about Emile.”

“I know some workers at the sugar refinery who say there’s going to be retaliation. It only takes a few angry loudmouths to stir things up.”

“I hope not,” Pierce said. “This seems to be an isolated incident. We haven’t had racial problems in a long time. And leaders in the black community have condemned it.”

“That won’t bring Remy back.”

“No, but it says something about the mind-set of African-Americans here. I don’t think anyone believes this was justified. Striking back blindly in a fit of outrage is the wrong response. And that won’t bring Remy back either.”

“Agreed.” Dempsey folded his arms across his chest, his freckled face solemn. “But whoever picked Remy as the victim knew it would shake this community to the core.”