Tell Me Something Good (20 page)

“Very funny,” she quipped. “Seriously, there
are real problems with you and me becoming a couple.”

“A couple of what?” Noel glanced at her
sideways.

“Cut it out. You know what I mean.” Lyrissa
squinted at him.

“So tell me what you think stops us from
being a couple.”

“Let’s see, there’s difference in social
status, money, your family’s attitudes about bloodlines and skin
color. Need I go on?” Lyrissa looked at him.

“Don’t be shy, say what you think!”

“Look, I went to school with Creole girls. I
thought they were my friends. Then one day I saw two of my
‘friends’ away from school with their parents at the mall. They
pretended not to know me.” Lyrissa stared ahead.

“Then you didn’t lose much,” Noel said
angrily.

“That was my first lesson in prejudice, from
my own race. But Creoles don’t consider themselves Black, do
they?”

“The whole issue is complicated, Lyrissa.”
Noel shook his head. “Some feel that way, others don’t.”

“Well, I haven’t met the ones who don’t
yet.”

“Yes, you have. Me.” Noel put a hand over
hers. “I’m African-American. We know that Marie Auguste Conque was
a slave bought by a French planter in seventeen sixteen. Her
granddaughter had ten children, seven of them for her owner.”

Lyrissa’s tense frown gave way to an
expression of interest. She took a pad and pen out of her purse.
“Why haven’t you told me this before? I can include this
information on her in my dissertation.”

He smiled, glad that the tense moment had
passed. “See, there was a good reason for us to be together
tonight. By the way, I hope you got that little bigot back.”
Lyrissa wore an evil grin. “Oh yeah. I’ll bet she still can’t open
a locker without getting scared.”

“You’ve got to tell me that story.”

“Let’s just say my friend Herbie’s pet rat
learned how to fly that day.”

“Remind me not to make you mad.”

Her expression became serious. “That was one
of the few bright spots at St. Mary’s.”

Noel wanted to stop the car and take her in
his arms. “I’m so sorry, Lyrissa.”

“Thanks. Anyway, back to the St. Denis
family. They won’t be happy with you dating me.”

“You’re assuming my entire family is
close-minded. That’s not fair.”

She wore a cynical smile. “I’ve met them,
remember?” “I make my own decisions,” Noel said with force.

“Life is complicated enough for me right now.
I’ve got school, my family to consider...”

“If we trust each other, we can handle them
all.”

“Let me think about it,” Lyrissa said after a
few moments.

“Fair enough. In the meantime, we can date,
nothing too heavy,” he added quickly when she started to speak. “A
nice chaste kiss or two every now and then.” He wore a
half-smile.

“Noel...” Lyrissa shook a finger at him.

“I like the way you say my name,” he
murmured. Lyrissa blushed. Her lips looked moist and delicious.
Noel shifted to relieve the tension of his intense arousal. Still
he knew better than to push her. She needed time to think about
them. But then, so did he.

Fifteen minutes later they pulled into a
long, circular driveway on Pontalba Avenue. The house was three
stories tall with the first floor on street level. A staircase went
up to a wide veranda on the second floor. It was a classic New
Orleans design.

“My God,” she whispered.

“We just had this talk, Lyrissa. We’re not
from another galaxy, okay?” From her expression, Noel was afraid
he’d lost what little ground he’d gained.

She stared at the house. “It’s lovely. I’d
say around 1870.” “You’re an expert on old houses, too?” Noel led
her around to a side door.

“No, but I recognize some of the carved
woodwork It dates from that period.”

Noel pressed a lighted doorbell button.
“Cousin Augustin lives down here. His youngest daughter has the
upper floors, but she’s gone most of the time.”

“On family business, I suppose.” Lyrissa
gazed around as though taking in every detail.

“No, she likes to investigate ghost
sightings,” Noel said with a straight face.

“Say what?” She blinked at him.

“She dances to her own music, you could say,”
h grinned.

“I guess she can afford to,” Lyrissa
murmured.

She became thoughtful again as she took in
her surroundings. A lush garden could be seen despite the darkness.
Noel decided not to mention the landscaped yard with a pond filled
with exotic koi in the back. Lyrissa stared up at the house, then
around at the old-money neighborhood. Noel was about to speak up
about stereo types when the door jerked open. A round faced man
dressed in a designer sports shirt and slacks beamed at them. He
was short and stocky. His eyes were hazel with hints of green.

“Ah, the young prodigal. Oh, wait, that’s
your father: isn’t it? My, but he makes life interesting. How is
Richard these days?”

“Not too different,” Noel said with a mock
frown.

“Wonderful! I like consistency. Be yourself,
is what say.” The older man hugged Noel with affection. Then h
turned his attention to Lyrissa.

“Cousin Augustin, this is Lyrissa Rideau. I
told you about her.”

“Yes, but you didn’t mention she was a flower
of female perfection. So pleased to meet you.” Augustin took he
hand and bowed.

“Thank you.” Lyrissa glanced at Noel with an
amused expression.

“He likes to lay it on thick. But don’t take
him too seriously. He’s fickle,” Noel said.

Augustin straightened and led Lyrissa inside.
“In the interests of full disclosure, I’m fifty-two—”

“Fifty-nine,” Noel corrected.

He swept on as though Noel hadn’t spoken. “I
have my own teeth, mostly. My children are all grown, I’m
financially secure and love to travel.”

“He’s all talk, Lyrissa.” Noel smiled at
him.

“Scared of a little competition, young man?
Come in. I’ve got wine and beer, and I mix a mean hurricane.”

Cousin Augustin led them down a short
hallway. Lyrissa hadn’t gone two steps when she stopped to admire a
framed painting. The two men were talking and didn’t notice. She
opened her portfolio and scanned the list.

“How beautiful,” she said as she flipped
pages.

“Lyrissa, would you like Chardonnay or...”
Noel realized she wasn’t behind him. He went back to stand beside
her.

“Your lady is all business, son. You like it,
Miss Rideau?” Cousin Augustin called out.

“This is by Tomas Daigrepont.” Lyrissa seemed
awed by her discovery. “It’s described here, but I never
dreamed!”

“Oh yes. I remember my grandmother mentioning
him. Quite well thought of, I think.” Cousin Augustin bustled to
the bar. Glass tinkled as he prepared drinks.

“He was a notorious man in his day. Very
talented, but le died young.” Lyrissa furiously made notes.

“Thrown head first from a horse at forty.”
Cousin Augustin stirred the contents of a clear glass pitcher.
“Martini for me, kids.”

“I’m driving, so I’d better not. Definitely
not one of your martinis.” Noel waved at him when he held up the
pitcher.

“Coward,” Augustin said with a grin. “Now,
I’ll bet this: spirited young thing will join me.”

“No, thank you. Are these part of the
collection?” Lyrissa no longer looked at the list. She walked
around examining sculptures and paintings.

Augustin swallowed some of his drink. “Hmm,
just right, as usual. No, those are from my mother’s side of the
family.”

“You’re fortunate to be surrounded by such
beauty.1 Lyrissa continued her tour.

“Dust catchers, that’s what the lady who
cleans for mi calls them.” Augustin took another generous sip from
the glass, and then set it down. “Since you insist on business, com
with me.”

“I’m sorry. I got carried away.” Lyrissa
looked embarrassed.

“Don’t worry, dear. I make it a point to
indulge beautiful women.” Augustin beamed at her.

“Oh, man!” Noel rolled his eyes.

Lyrissa smiled at the older man without
looking a Noel. “Careful, you’ll turn my head.”

“I’m past the age of turning a young girl’s
head, sad to say. Now, pretend I’m the Wizard and this is the Land
c Oz.” Augustin went before them with a bounce to his step.

“You’re going to show me amazing sights and
sounds? Lyrissa seemed happy to join the game.

“I told you he was a bit unusual,” Noel
whispered close to her ear.

“He’s adorable,” Lyrissa whispered back.

“Thank you, dear,” Augustin said gaily. “You
warm an old man’s heart.”

Lyrissa laughed. “And he’s got the hearing of
a twenty- year-old.”

“This way, children.”

Augustin climbed the stairs slowly but
without faltering once. He led them into a grand room furnished
with antiques. Lyrissa gasped when she reached the top of the
stairs. Louis XIV chairs and settees upholstered in raw silk filled
the sumptuous yet tasteful room. A Persian rug of rich jewel tones
of green, ruby red, and sapphire blue covered the floor.

“I could spend weeks here,” she said with a
delighted expression.

“I just may steal her away, after all,
handsome young cousin.” Augustin slapped Noel on the shoulder.

“You wish.” Noel pretended to frown at him.
He watched Lyrissa take her time as she made a circle around the
room.

“So you two are ... together?” Augustin spoke
in a soft, discreet tone.

“Never mind about that,” Noel said. He wanted
to shout out how he felt. But he exercised self-control.

“I see the delicate stages of a new romance.
I under-stand completely,” Augustin whispered.

“Don’t start any gossip. I’m serious, Cousin
Augustin.” Noel wore a sober expression to press his point
home.

“You don’t have to worry about me. I can keep
a secret.” Augustin nodded and made a gesture as though locking his
lips with a key.

“Like I believe you,” Noel said with a
grunt.

“I found eight items on the list. But...”
Lyrissa hesitated before going on, and then pointed to an item
written on her sheet. “I don’t see this large painting.”

“Let’s see.” Augustin took out a pair of
reading glasses and put them on.

“It’s probably on the third floor.” Noel
followed him and looked at the list as well.

“Must be ‘Sunday Stroll.’ The thing is
massive. Simply overpowered this room.” Augustin swept a hand
around while still reading the list.

“‘Sunday Stroll,’ sir?” Lyrissa’s voice
cracked.

“You do need something to soothe your throat.
I have just the thing. Amaretto.” Augustin started to dart off but
was brought up short when Lyrissa yanked on his sleeve.

“What’s the full name of the painting?” she
said.

“We’ve always called it ‘The Stroll.’ I’m not
sure. Remember that dance from the fifties?”

“What?” Noel and Lyrissa said at the same
time. Both blinked at him in confusion.

“Of course you don’t. Years before you were
born.” Augustin hummed a tune and shuffled his feet.

“Sir, the painting. Who’s the artist?”
Lyrissa cut him off by walking in front of him.

“You’ve broken my rhythm. I can’t move the
way I used to. I could really shake a leg.”

“Focus, Cousin Augustin. We’re talking about
the collection, not how you used to party.” Noel shrugged at
Lyrissa in apology.

“The painting—oh, of course.”

“It’s the largest one listed. I was sure
you’d have it,” Lyrissa said.

Noel wondered at the intensity of her
interest. “Is it important?”

Lyrissa took a deep breath and smiled. “I
doubt it. But it would be good to have everything accounted for
before the board meeting.”

“Lord in heaven! I’m not looking forward to
that, or your grandmother’s party. People are choosing up sides,
from what Julie tells me.”

“Julie?” Noel frowned at him.

“I visited the offices the other day. It
could use a lot more pizzazz. Scatter a few French colonial tables
around, and—”

“I’m sure it would look nice. About ‘The
Stroll,’ sir.” Lyrissa gently nudged him back on the subject of
interest to her.

Augustin sat down heavily in a chair nearby.
“Whew! Get me something cold and refreshing, kid.” He gestured to
Noel.

“And non-alcoholic,” Noel added. “You should
know better.”

“It’s come to this, being lectured by an
infant.” Augustin fanned his face.

“Could you describe it?” Lyrissa’s voice was
firm.

“What are we talking about, dear?” Augustin
took a large white handkerchief from his pants pocket and wiped his
brow.

“This painting,” Lyrissa said loudly. She
jabbed a finger at the list.

Noel struggled not to laugh at her
frustration. On his best day Cousin Augustin had the attention span
of a three-year-old. “The one you call ‘The Stroll,’ ” he added to
help her out.

“My brother’s youngest has it,” Cousin
Augustin said. “You remember Ersalind, Noel. She lives in that huge
house near Covington. It amazes me why she’d want to live
there.”

“Good! We can visit her soon,” Lyrissa
said.

“I think she has it. Or maybe I gave it to my
son Kyle for his law office.”

Lyrissa let out a gust of air like a deflated
balloon. “Maybe we can call them tonight.”

“Kyle is in Atlanta on business. I’m pretty
sure he is. And try catching Ersalind at home.” Augustin finished
what was left of his martini.

“But you’re sure one of them has it.” Noel
tried to help again.

“I’m almost sure. You must see this stunning
water- color. It was done by an artist who had an affair with Marie
Leveau.” Augustin sprang from his chair and out the room.

“Good Lord!” Lyrissa rubbed her forehead with
the tips of her fingers.

“Our family tree has a few lovable nuts in
it.” Noel smiled as he walked over to her. He massaged her
shoulders.