Marisa Carroll - Hotel Marchand 09 (16 page)

Maybe she should talk to Sophie, tell her Alain loved her, because she knew with absolute certainty that he did. If she had any inkling that Sophie loved him back, she’d get down on her knees and beg her to stay in Indigo until this mess with Casey Jo was put behind them.

Maybe if she’d done that years ago, things would be different now. But she hadn’t wanted to interfere in his love life then any more than she did now. And who knew that Casey Jo was going to show up after six months of silence, looking like she’d swallowed a watermelon and demand that Alain take her back just as though she’d never up and left him and her precious baby boy to follow her own foolish dreams?

Casey Jo had a lot to answer for. Maybe if she explained all that to Sophie it would change her mind?

Or maybe not.

The phone rang and she picked it up, hoping against hope it was her ex-daughter-in-law calling to apologize for not checking in for more than two whole days.

“Cecily, is that you?” It wasn’t Casey Jo but her mother.

“It’s me, Marie. Have you heard from them?” she asked without preamble.

Her answer was a sigh. “No. I was hoping you had.”

“Not a word since Thursday night. Alain is fit to be tied. Casey Jo will have a lot to answer for if she doesn’t have Dana back here on the dot of seven tomorrow evening.”

“I know,” Marie said, and for once she didn’t tack on some kind of convoluted excuse for Casey Jo’s behavior. “I just hope they’re both all right.”

“You’d better get yourself down to St. Tim’s to say a prayer to back that wish up.” Cecily hunched her shoulder to hold the phone against her ear while she continued to fold towels.

“I already have.” Her tone changed. “Did you know that Sophie Clarkson put those damned stuffed animals out on display?”

It was Cecily’s turn to sigh. “Yes. Guy mentioned it. Dana told her that’s what Maude did. She was thinking of the ones that people gave back to her when they took out the meds, I suppose. She used to sell some of them, remember.”

“She’s got Amelia Prejean to run the shop for her. She’s reopening Monday morning.” Amelia was about Cecily’s age but they were the merest of acquaintances. Hugh’s niece had only moved to Indigo the year before, after she retired from teaching school back east somewhere, to help look after her aging uncle. She wasn’t going to be any help in getting the animals out of Past Perfect.

“He told me that, too.”

“We’ve run out of time. We’ll have to break into the opera house tonight.”

Cecily felt tears burn the back of her eyelids, but instead of letting them fall, she punched the pile of folded towels with her fist. It wasn’t as satisfying as a good cry, but it didn’t make her eyes red, either. “Not tonight. I can’t do that. Alain’s here. He’ll hear me leave and wonder what I’m doing going out at this time of night.”

“Tomorrow, then. It’s our last chance.”

“I won’t be home from the hospital until six-thirty or seven.”

It was Marie’s turn to sound exasperated. “We aren’t going to do it in broad daylight.”

“But Alain…”

“Tell him you’re going to spend the evening with your mother because she’s worried about Dana.”

“She is worried about Dana,” Cecily snapped.

“She’s my grandbaby, too, don’t forget. She’ll be fine. They’re just having too much fun to be checking in every five minutes.” Cecily ground her teeth but didn’t get a chance to respond. “Just do as I say for once,” Marie continued. “Tell him you’re going to Yvonne’s. Your mom will be your alibi.”

“How will we get in the place?”

“Leave that up to me.”

Cecily felt a chill race up and down her spine. She wasn’t in the least bit psychic, but she didn’t need to be to know this was going to turn out badly; she’d been convinced of that since the day Maude had died. She just hoped Sophie Clarkson wouldn’t end up blaming Alain for what she was going to do.

S
OPHIE STOOD
at the window of her suite at the top of La Petite Maison and looked out at the break in the rain clouds that bathed the grounds in watery sunlight. The silence was so complete that the only competition for the church bells of St. Timothy’s calling the faithful to worship from over a mile away were the twitters of a few birds in the oaks beside the house. She cradled a mug of Luc’s excellent coffee between her hands and thought a bit wistfully that the next Sunday morning would find her in her kitchen in her condo in Houston, staring at a bare white wall, listening to the muted roar of traffic from the expressway that even her building’s soundproofed walls couldn’t completely filter out.

She was making the right choice going back to Houston, she told herself. Her grandparents would be home from their trip to Australia on Wednesday and she wanted to be there to greet them. And, of course, she needed to get back to work, as well. Her father had been relieved. She could hear it in his voice when she’d called to tell him she was leaving Indigo as soon as the alarm system was reset and she got Amelia Prejean squared away at Past Perfect.

Perhaps once she was back in her own home, among her own things, the feeling that she was making a terrible mistake leaving Indigo…leaving Alain…would stop niggling at the back of her mind.

Surely, if she were truly, no-turning-back in love with him, she wouldn’t be able to just up and walk away? Would she?

Her suitcases were open on the quilt-covered pine bed. She was almost finished packing. She would check out of La Petite Maison after breakfast the next morning, pack her car, make sure Maude’s little house was securely locked up and then leave for Houston directly from the store. A knock sounded on her bedroom door.

“One moment, please.” She set her coffee mug on the bedside table and opened the door. Luc Carter was standing on the tiny landing outside her room. He was dressed in gray slacks and a black shirt, open at the throat, and looked both elegant and casual at the same time.

“Good morning, Sophie,” he said.

“Good morning, Luc. I was just on my way down to breakfast.”

“It’s ready whenever you are. Actually, I came to tell you that you have a visitor downstairs.”

“Alain?” Sophie wished she’d been able to school her tongue to silence when she saw one of Luc’s dark, expressive brows rise a fraction of an inch.

“It’s a Boudreaux, yes. But not our esteemed Chief of Police. It’s his son, Guy.”

“Guy? What’s he doing out here?”

“He wouldn’t tell me,” Luc said, stepping back so that she could precede him down the stairs. “Said it was private business between the two of you. I put him at the table in the alcove. You can have a little more privacy there.”

“Thanks.” She hurried down the steps holding on to the rail. The cypress risers were narrow and steep between the second and third floors of the old house. The enticing smells of crisp bacon and hot coffee greeted her halfway down the main staircase with its beautifully carved mahogany banister. She could hear the clatter of silverware and the sounds of voices from the breakfast room.

She stopped in the archway that separated the small lounge reception area from the breakfast room and scanned the faces that looked up as she came into view. She nodded pleasantly at two of the four couples occupying the second floor rooms of the bed and breakfast as they sat gathered around the big harvest table, and then settled her gaze on Alain’s son.

Guy had been watching for her and rose from his chair the moment she appeared. He was wearing jeans, with a bike cuff around his ankle, which explained how he’d gotten out here. He’d ridden his bike from town. He was wearing a white dress shirt and tie and a leather jacket, not the usual Indigo High sweatshirt she was used to seeing him in. Sophie guessed he had just come from mass at St. Timothy’s.

She walked over to the table and motioned him back into his seat. “Sit down, Guy. Do you want something to eat?”

He remained standing and shook his head. “No thanks, I already had breakfast. I need to talk to you.” His voice was so low Sophie had to bend her head closer to hear him. “I…I have to ask a favor.”

“Is something wrong?” She was afraid there must be. Why else would he seek her out here at the B&B on a Sunday morning?

“Yeah. Sort of. Look, could we talk somewhere a little more, you know, private?”

“Of course.” She led him into the small, comfortably furnished lounge that doubled as the reception area. She sat down on one of the overstuffed sofas that flanked the stone fireplace and patted the seat beside her. “What’s wrong, Guy?”

He looked at her with Alain’s deep-blue eyes. “I’m here about Dana and my mom.” He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a slim cell phone. He flipped it open, checked the display as though to be sure he hadn’t somehow missed a call, then closed the lid and wrapped his long fingers around it.

“You’ve heard from Dana or your mother? Are they all right? I…I didn’t talk to your father at all yesterday.” The day before had been one of the longest in Sophie’s life. She’d spent it at Maude’s house, sorting through her personal possessions, not wanting to leave them behind in an unoccupied house. It had been a bittersweet task as memories of her childhood and teen years came back to her with each album page she turned, each memento she packed. She had found herself reaching into her pocket for her own cell phone more than once as she worked, anxious to contact Alain and see if there was any news of Dana, yet at the same time, reluctant to be the one making the connection. She was more than a little afraid she would lose her resolve completely and tell him she would stay with him in Indigo forever.

“My mom called me. Right in the middle of mass.” He colored a little, but Sophie pretended not to notice. “Father Joe doesn’t like people to have their cell phones on in the church, but I didn’t want to take the chance of missing a call. Luckily, I was sitting in the back pew and I got out pretty quick.”

“What did Dana have to say? Is she having fun? They aren’t still in Orlando, are they?” It was a little after eleven. There was no way Casey Jo could meet Alain’s 7:00 p.m. deadline if she was still in Florida.

“No. They’re in Biloxi somewhere. I…I have the name and address of the motel.”

“That’s about two hundred miles or so from here, isn’t it? They should make it home in plenty of time.”

Guy’s face tightened. “Casey Jo’s car broke down. Threw an engine rod. They’re not going anywhere from the sound of it. And Dana’s sick. She’s throwing up and crying.” He shoved his hand through his dark auburn hair in frustration. “Casey Jo was crying, too. She’s not used to taking care of a sick kid. And Dana’s a world-class crier. The more she cries, the more she throws up. That’s the way she is.”

Sophie’s heart went out to him. He was a conscientious kid, a born protector and he loved his little sister. He hadn’t wanted her to go off with Casey Jo and now his worst fears were being realized. “Where’s your father? Has he gone to pick them up?” It was the only reason she could think of that Guy had come to her, to give her word of the situation.

“He doesn’t know anything about it. My mom’s afraid to call him. Anyway, he’s at the other end of the parish. The sheriff called early this morning and said there was a fugitive situation. Three guys broke out of jail in New Orleans. The highway patrol thought they might be heading this way. They’ve got roadblocks set up all over the south end of the parish. I…I didn’t try to get hold of him yet, either.”

“Your grandmother?”

“She’s working.” He set his jaw, another mannerism he shared with Alain. “And Grandma Marie’s sleeping. She works ’til 3:00 a.m. on Saturday nights. Besides, her car’s a bigger lemon than Casey Jo’s.” Sophie had an idea now where he was going with this. “I need to borrow a car to go get them and bring them back here before Dad’s deadline.”

“Your great-grandmother—”

“Would be on the phone to the sheriff or the governor or even the president—whoever it took to get hold of my dad—so fast it would make your head swim. I don’t want everyone in town to know what’s going on. I need a car to go get them and bring them back to Indigo without anyone finding out. Could you loan me yours?”

“Oh, Guy.” Sophie tried to make sense of all the scattered facts he’d laid before her. “I can’t do that. In the first place, you don’t have a license.”

“Grandma Marie would drive it. She’s a good driver, really, she is. It’s her car that’s a junker.”

Sophie laid her hand on his for just a second, withdrawing it before she embarrassed him. “I’m sorry, Guy. My firm leases my car. The insurance company won’t allow anyone else to drive it. Surely, there are enough policemen to man this roadblock. Call your father. It’s an emergency. They’ll let him go.”

“No.” The word exploded out of his throat. “You don’t understand. I know Dad would go after them in a heartbeat. But we had this talk. And I understand about my mom better now. I want to give her this chance to show she’s doing the right thing. I want to go after her and Dana, not my dad.”

Sophie was flattered that Guy had come to her, but she had no idea what Alain would think of her inserting herself into his family’s affairs. Perhaps if she had told him she loved him when she had the chance, instead of giving in to her own insecurities, it would be different. As things stood now, she didn’t even know if they had a relationship, let alone an ongoing one. “Guy, please let me call your father,” she pleaded.

“No. I told you I want to do this myself.” He stood up and she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. “Look, thanks for listening to me. I’ll try to call my friend Skeeter. His older brother’s got his own car. Maybe if I buy the gas—”

“No.” Sophie made up her mind. She wouldn’t think of the personal implications of what she was doing, only of Dana’s safety, and Guy’s, for that matter. She wasn’t going to have Alain’s son going on a four-hundred-mile road trip with another inexperienced driver. “I’ll drive you. But I insist you inform your father or your grandmother what we’re doing, otherwise, no deal. Understood?”

He glanced over his shoulder as one of the couples, a dentist from Dallas and his much younger wife, came into the lounge from the breakfast room. “My mom won’t be happy to see you.”

“I know. But I think I can handle it.”

“I’m not blind. I… You and my dad— Well, I’ve got eyes, and people around town, they remember—”

“You’re right about your father and me. Perhaps one day we’ll be more than friends. I honestly don’t know right now. But that’s all beside the point. It’s Dana we should be thinking about. And if you’re right about your mother wanting another chance to prove she can be a good mom, she’ll ‘get along to go along,’ as my godmother used to say.”

He nodded agreement but didn’t look any more convinced than Sophie felt. However, she had no other solution to offer and they both knew it. “I’ll try my dad right now.” Guy ducked his head and flipped open his phone. “No signal. I’ll go outside on the porch and try again. Okay?” His eyes flickered to the other couple, who were asking Luc about the visiting hours for Shadows-on-the-Teche.

“I’ll go upstairs and get my purse.” She would have to trust him on this, even though she could see his reluctance to inform his father of his plans hadn’t diminished.

The dentist and his wife were gone when Sophie came back downstairs, slightly breathless from hurrying. Only Luc Carter remained in the lounge, although she could hear the murmur of voices from the breakfast room.

“Going out with young Boudreaux?” he asked, coming out from behind the antique table that served as a reception desk.

“Yes,” Sophie replied, wondering how much she could tell him of her plans. “I’ll be gone most of the day.” She would finish packing when Dana, and she supposed Casey Jo, were safely back in Indigo.

“Is there any message you care to leave if someone inquires for you?” he asked, the perfect host.

“No message.”

“You believe the boy is actually contacting his father then?” He made no attempt to hide the fact he must have overhead at least part of her conversation with Guy.

She looked him straight in the eye. “Yes.”

“How far away is she? Boudreaux’s ex and the little girl, I mean?” He shrugged. “Half the town knows the woman took off with her to Disney World.”

He was probably right about that. “They’re somewhere near Biloxi. They’ve had car trouble and Dana’s under the weather, probably from too much excitement and theme-park food.”

“And Guy is determined to bring them safely home.” A smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Southern gallantry is alive and well a hundred and fifty years after the fall of the Confederacy.” He indicated where Guy, visible through the low windows, was standing on the wide porch, cell phone to his ear. His smile grew broader. “That acorn sure didn’t fall far from the tree.”

Sophie managed a smile, too. “No,” she agreed. “He certainly did not.”

I
T WAS DARK
by the time Alain pulled into his parking space at the municipal building. Main Street was deserted. The General Store was open and the gas station on the corner had its lights on, but the rest of the town had settled in for the evening, staying warm and dry out of the rain and chill wind. He picked up his hat and gathered up his paperwork.

What a hell of a wasted day. Six hours spent manning a roadblock on a backwater road that no one in the parish much used anymore, and that sure wouldn’t be on any self-respecting crooks’ escape route. But the state boys were running the show, and the sheriff, just following orders, you understand, wasn’t above getting a little of his own back as far as Alain was concerned, sending him off to stand guard over skunk cabbage and alligator holes at the back of beyond.

To top it all off, the escaped prisoners had all been recaptured before they ever made it out of the city. The only bright spot in the miserable, wet day was the fact that the sheriff must see him as a potential threat come election time, or he wouldn’t have made sure there was no chance in hell that Alain would get credit for apprehending the fugitives if they had got this far north. Small comfort for his aching feet and chilled bones, but it was all he had.