Sweet Mystery (7 page)

“I agree with you about Bayou Verret and
Grande River. The local aldermen didn’t do a very good job of
planning. And you’re right; we are doing very well in town, what
with the tourist excursions. We even have an annual antique
festival every May that is steadily growing.” Simon took her empty
cup and refilled it without asking. He sat down again.

“Okay, so tell me what you’re talking
about.”

“More tourist development really – a sort of
modified beach front,” said Simon, holding up a hand to forestall
another objection, “but with full-time monitoring. Almost like a
national park.”

“You mean a ranger wearing a cute little
hat?” Rae wore a teasing expression.

Simon smiled. “Sort of.” He got up and pulled
out a set of plans. “Look here. This is where it’s proposed. Part
of this is land that I own. My father sold it to me.”

“I see.” Rae looked at the map showing Bayou
Latte. A large area was outlined in blue. “And this..?”

“Part of it might be used for industrial
development.”

“Now wait a minute–”

“Nothing heavy. Pantheon Corporation might
locate one of their divisions on that spot – a plant making
underwear. Cottonwear is the brand, I think.”

Rae grinned at him. “Oh yeah, I own some of
those.”

Simon gazed at her figure. A mental picture
of her full hips, covered only by soft cotton panties, winked on
before he knew what was happening. Warmth crept through him. He
blinked in embarrassment when he realized she was looking at him
looking at her. Simon averted his eyes fast.

“Y-yes, well, it means at least seventy
construction jobs and sixty or so permanent jobs,” he managed to
stammer out.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Rae said. “I
mean, we’ve gotta have drawers and bras, right?”

Simon resisted an urge to look at her again.
“Uh, right. Anyway, this would be the beach area here. We’d build a
visitors’ guide center with restrooms. The state might even hire a
part-time employee to give out tourist brochures about the
area.”

“You’ve done your homework, Mr. St. Cyr.” Rae
leaned closer to get a better view of the plans.

Her scent, light and floral, floated towards
him. “Er, I knew you’d have questions.” Simon pointed to another
spot close to where her family home was located. “Of course you’ll
want to keep a few acres around here.” That was obvious, but it
made her move just a bit more toward him.

“For sure.” Rae looked into his eyes. For a
moment neither spoke. “So how bad do you want it?” she asked.

Her face was so close that Simon could count
the thick lashes framing those clear, brown eyes. “I, uh...” He
tried to focus.

“The price, Mr. St. Cyr – what are you
offering me?”

Simon steadied his breathing. “The property,
yes, the land.” He cleared his throat. “Five thousand an acre.”

Rae gave a low whistle. “Not bad. Not bad at
all.”

“This is waterfront property near a historic
town. After all, Belle Rose is about to celebrate one hundred and
sixty-seven years since its founding.”

“I’ll need to discuss this with my brothers,
of course. By the way, I want to keep five acres at least. My dad’s
old dance hall is located a ways down the road from the house.” Rae
stood up. “That’s if I sell at all.”

“No problem. That leaves us with twenty acres
– exactly what we need.” Simon rose, too.

“You said ‘we.’ You have a partner?”

Simon thought for a split second before
deciding to lay his cards on the table. “There is my grandfather.
He’s a silent partner in my business. And Darcy Jove and I are
working together to bring Pantheon in. His property is adjacent to
yours.”

Rae’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need to discuss
this with my brothers. Forget it,” she said in a voice taut with
anger.

Simon was afraid this would be her reaction.
“Ms. Dalcour, we’ve formed a corporation. Darcy won’t own the
land.”

“You must think I’m seven different kinds of
fool. The Joves have been trying to take our property for over
fifty years,” Rae snapped and turned to go.

“We’re offering to buy it at a fair price.
And you’ll still own five acres.” Simon blocked her exit. “Darcy
only owns fifteen percent of the company. If anyone ends up with
the land, it would be me. And we can draw up an agreement that I
have to give you first shot at buying it back if ever I want to
sell it.”

“Oh, great, the St. Cyrs, another family that
trashed my grandfather’s name, would own it. That makes a big
difference.” Rae gave a grunt.

“Listen, if it means anything to you, I never
heard Papa Joe say one bad thing about Mr. Vincent in all the years
I was growing up.” Simon was sincere. In fact, Papa Joe had been
careful to point out that there was no proof of Vincent Dalcour’s
guilt in the theft.

“Yeah, well....” Rae looked at him, the scowl
on her face softening a bit.

“You know, Papa Joe even tried to help your
dad. Of course, Mr. Lucien told him no.” Simon took one step toward
her.

Rae chuckled. “Very diplomatic. Daddy told
him to kiss his you-know-what.” She lifted a shoulder. “Okay, so
the St. Cyrs didn’t exactly spit on us.”

Simon took this as an encouraging sign.
“Look, I realize your family was put through a lot. But unless you
have plans to use all that land, why not hold onto a sizeable
amount and still make a profit?”

Let me get back to you.” Rae studied him for
a moment. “The corner of her full mouth lifted. “You’re not a bad
pitch man at that.”

“I want you to feel like I’m dealing with you
honestly. That’s all.” Simon felt a tingle at the small
compliment.

“I appreciate it. I know I’m a bit prickly
about all this, but....”

“Sure, I understand.”

“See ya ‘round,” said Rae, putting on her
sunglasses.

Simon’s heart sped up at the sight of her
about to leave. “Ms. Dalcour, maybe if we walked over the property
together, you’d get an even better picture. To explain to your
family, I mean.” He could not see her eyes behind the dark lenses.
“We could have lunch afterwards.” There, he’d said it. The seconds
beat out like hours while she stood considering his invitation.

“Friday good?” she asked.

“Yes, sure. I’ll pick you up around
ten-thirty.”

“Okay.” Rae nodded and sauntered out, closing
the door behind her.

Simon exhaled. Now all he had to do was check
his calendar to make sure he was free on Friday morning. Her floral
scent came back to him. If not, Nola would just have to reschedule
everything else.

Chapter 4

A breeze stirred the leaves of swamp oak.
Bright sparkles of sunshine bounced off the ripples of Bayou Latte.
Rae stood on the bank in a clearing where small boats were turned
upside down, waiting for their owners to come back. This was one of
the many places where fishermen launched, to head off deeper into
the swamps and bayous in search of speckled trout, choupic or
catfish.

Rae savored the feel of warm air brushing
across her skin. It brought relief from the hot sun. Yet she did
not mind the heat. She enjoyed the smell of the fish and wet earth,
and the sound of birds calling to one another. Nowhere else was she
so much at peace. Even when she was a child, she never felt
rejected on the bayou. Memories of crawfishing with Lucien came
flashing back as vividly as a technicolor movie. They would follow
the waterway into Bayou Choctaw and then on to Houmas Swamp. All
bitterness could be forgotten back in the bayous.

Rae gasped at the sight of a man standing
about sixty yards away on the bank. He was dressed in a red shirt
and blue jeans. His brown skin glistened. For a moment, he bore a
striking resemblance to Lucien. Rae blinked away tears. If only it
were him. There had been so much left unsaid between them. That’s
what made death so painful for survivors, the unfinished business
of life.

“Hey, tryin’ to catch some dinner?” Andrew
called in a voice full of cheer.

Rae turned away as he approached, hastily
wiping her face dry with a bandanna taken from her back pocket.

“You skipping another day of work? It’s a
wonder you have a job, Andy,” Rae said when he got about fifty
yards away. She used his old, childhood nickname.

“Contrary to popular rumor, I work hard. I
got off at two, sure, but I went to work for six this morning,”
Andrew yelled back. He closed the distance between them in no time
with his long-legged stride. “Say, you all right?”

“Sure, nothing wrong with me.” Rae wiped her
face with a hand.

Andrew peered at her. “You’ve been crying.
Come here, cher.” He wrapped her in a sweaty embrace.

“Go on now, I said I’m okay.” Despite her
words, Rae leaned against his chest. She pushed away from him after
a few seconds. “Whew! You smell like crawfish.”

“You ain’t exactly smelling like a rose
yourself,” Andrew teased. He pinched her chin with affection before
looking out over the water. “Yep, Daddy is all over this place. I
feel him myself when I’m out here.” He did not have to ask what
prompted her tears.

“Daddy was always a contradiction, Andy.
Somehow he held onto this land. But he’d stay drunk for days,
yelling and playing that accordion.” Rae sat down, Indian-style, on
a grassy mound. Andrew plopped beside her.

“One thing he wouldn’t do was lose Pawpaw’s
land; been in the family for almost a hundred years. Our
great-grandfather had to fight to hold onto it,” Andrew said.

Raimond Dalcour’s white grandfather had left
no legitimate direct heirs. Yet his nieces and nephews had filed a
lawsuit, which went on for seven years, trying to take it from him.
Amazingly, the courts upheld Raimond’s claim since both whites and
blacks wrote letters attesting to it.

“You know he paid the taxes on time. Even
paid back his Uncle Jules those times he had to borrow from him to
do it,” Rae said.

“He had his faults, our Papa, but he wouldn’t
let go of his heritage.” Andrew spoke with fierce pride in his
voice. “He always said we’d get rich one day because of it.”

Rae looked at him. “Andy, I met with Simon
St. Cyr yesterday. He wants to buy part of the land.”

Andrew grinned at her. “Wish I coulda been
there when you told him to go to hell and take his no-good
grandfather right along with him.”

“That’s not what I told him.” Rae shifted
under his gaze.

“Then what exactly did you say?”

“I told him I’d get back to him after talking
it over with you and Neville, and–”

Andrew lifted a shoulder. “Okay, so you were
polite. Now you can tell him no.”

“Andy, I... I think we ought to consider it.
Neville wants to sell.” Rae thought of her older brother. Neville
wanted to move on in a different way, to wipe the past clean.

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Andrew shot
back. “Our older brother has about as much sense of family
tradition as that driftwood over there. He’s ashamed of Pawpaw
Vincent and Daddy.”

“That’s not true. Neville stuck by us and you
know it. He just didn’t want to spend the rest of his life being
looked down on in Belle Rose.” Rae glanced at her hands folded in
her lap. “Neither did I.”

“Sure, leavin’ was the easy way out.” Andrew
tossed a rock across the water, causing a splash. “There are still
older folks around who turn up their noses when I pass them on the
street downtown. But I don’t give a damn. This is as much my home
as theirs.”

“Andy, Neville and me wanted more of a life
than we could have here. I didn’t want to work at the processing
plant, be a waitress or end up driving thirty miles to some boring
job.” Rae skipped a small shell across the surface of the
water.

“So you made your choices. Mine is to stay
right here, like Daddy wanted, and pay the taxes. This is our
land.” Andrew had a stubborn set to his jaw.

“Remember two years ago, when Daddy got real
sick, and I came home?” Rae rested her chin on his shoulder, as she
had done when they were children.

“Yeah…”

“We had a long talk. He knew he was about to
die.” Rae paused, remembering his drawn face. “Daddy told me he was
sorry for nursing his anger all those years and not doing more with
his life. He made me promise to somehow find out the truth about
Pawpaw Vincent.”

“How in the world you gonna do that? The
man’s been gone over fifty years. He’s likely dead by now.” Andrew
shook his head.

“Hire a private detective, I guess.”

Andrew sighed. “Let’s face it, he left and so
did Estelle Jove. Now, in my experience when it comes to men and
women, those kinda coincidences mean one thing.”

“You mean you believe what they say?” Rae was
stunned. Andrew had always been as vehement in his defense of
Pawpaw Vincent as Lucien.

“No, I’m not sure. Look, a black man with
that kinda money would have been noticed back then.”

“That’s what Daddy used to say.” Only in
recent months had Rae begun to seriously think about the
grandfather she’d never known. All Lucien’s accounts of the old
scandal came back to her now. “It makes a lot of sense, too.”

“But I do think he and Estelle went off
someplace together. They could easily lose themselves in a big city
like Detroit, Chicago. Hell, I don’t know. Maybe they went to one
of them Caribbean Islands.”

Rae raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, come
on.”

“We’ve got roots out that way. Let me see…
was it Barbados or St. Lucia? Daddy said our great-great-great
grandmother came over as a servant, first to New Orleans.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, Pawpaw Vincent even had old pictures.
Daddy kept them in a metal box up in the attic. Anyway, I think the
old man lived out his life with a whole new family someplace far
away.”

Rae stared at him wide-eyed. “I never thought
of it like that. We could have uncles and cousins somewhere.”