Tell Me Something Good (21 page)

“It’s like trying to grip a handful of
Jell-O.” Lyrissa groaned. “Why couldn’t it just be in the attic or
something?”

“My relatives aren’t known for taking the
easy way in anything.” Noel laughed.

“A news flash,” she retorted.

“Don’t be too irritated with us. I promise to
call my cousins tomorrow.”

“Fine, fine,” Lyrissa said.

“First thing in the morning, I swear. Hey,
I’ll bet that print really is nice.” Noel tried to soothe her.

Lyrissa shrugged free of his touch. “Owning a
collection like this is a sacred responsibility. What do you people
do? Toss it around like second hand junk!”

“So maybe we could have been a bit more
careful” Noel admitted.

“That’s an understatement. You realize a
painting like that could be priceless?” Lyrissa glared at him as
though he’d personally thrown it away.

“You think you know what it is?” Noel came
around the chair to face her.

“No, it’s just... your family has treated
these beautiful objects so casually.” Lyrissa grimaced.

Noel smiled slightly and sat on the sofa
across from her. “At least he narrowed it down to one branch of the
family.” “You take everything for granted because it’s been handed
to you on a silver platter.” Lyrissa stood up and walked around the
room.

“Not everything,” Noel said defensively. “My
ancestors worked very hard.”

“Sure, at snatching up real estate owned by
the poor descendants of slaves. Then you collect art as though it’s
nothing.” Lyrissa swept her arm out in an arc. “Look at this
place.”

“So we’re crass and a bunch of crooks.” He
gazed at her intently.

“I’m just stating the facts.”

“We’re not talking about art anymore.” Noel
sat for-ward. “It’s the entire Creole sub-culture of racism and
classism, isn’t it?”

“Here we are,” Cousin Augustin burst in
wearing a wide smile. He held a framed painting of irises. “Just
look at these colors!”

Noel sat with his hands clenched together. He
stared ahead without seeing anything. Lyrissa stood near the
window, her back to them both. Augustin glanced at Noel, then
Lyrissa, then back to Noel.

“Nice,” Noel said finally without looking at
it.

“The air in here is thick with tension. And I
missed it!” He looked disappointed.

Lyrissa whirled around and grabbed her
portfolio from the chair where she’d sat. “I’ll document what you
have.”

“Of course,” Augustin said in a quiet,
diplomatic tone. “This way, dear.”

Noel remained behind. He listened as they
moved from room to room. Their voices faded in and out, signaling
their locations. When they came back, he sat with a glass of white
wine in his hand.

“Changed your mind, eh?” Augustin clapped his
shoulder.

“I needed it,” Noel said and looked at
Lyrissa. She avoided his gaze.

“Hmm.” Augustin gazed at them, and then
yawned. “I don’t mean to rush you, but it’s getting close to my
bedtime.”

“Not unless it’s near midnight.” Noel glanced
at his wristwatch. “It’s nine-thirty.”

“I’m trying something new.” Augustin put a
hand under Noel’s elbow and guided him from his seat.

“Sure you are,” Noel said. His eyes narrowed
with suspicion.

“You kids should go to Celestin’s. Perfect
spot to spend quiet time and talk things out.” He motioned to
Lyrissa and took her arm when she approached.

“You must have a hot date,” Noel teased.

“For me to know and you to find out. I’m so
glad you came. It was wonderful meeting you, Lyrissa.” Augustin
talked fast as they walked.

“Thank you for letting us come over, Mr.
Augustin.” Lyrissa spoke in a stiff formal voice.

“I was happy to do it, dear. Drive safely.
Bye, now.” He ushered them to the door.

“Bye, Cousin Augustin. I’ll call you later.”
Noel turned around to talk to him.

“Of course. Remember, soft music and dim
lights.” Cousin Augustin winked at him and jerked his head as
though pointing the way.

Noel glared at him. “I heard you,” he said
tightly.

“Good night, and thanks again.” Lyrissa gave
Augustin a polite nod, and then strode to the car. She was inside
and wearing her seatbelt in seconds.

“I think you owe me an explanation,” Noel
said after getting in behind the wheel.

“No I don’t I’m hired help. As long as I do
my job, I don’t owe you anything.”

“Take the chip off your shoulder, Lyrissa.
Stop putting up barriers between us.” Noel did not start the
engine.

“The barriers were up generations ago.”
Lyrissa rubbed her forehead. “It’s been a long day and I’ve said
too much already.”

Noel took her hand. “Let’s find a quiet place
to talk. Please.”

They didn’t speak during the short drive.
Noel stole glances at her at each stoplight He turned on the
compact disc player. Lalah Hathaway sang standards; love ballads
that Noel hoped would ease the tension. Lyrissa did not bend at
all. She sat rigid as though determined not to ac-knowledge him.
Noel sighed inwardly. They finally reached Celestin’s. He parked in
the paved lot, but neither of them moved.

Lyrissa peered at the building. They got out
and went inside. Dark stained wood, soft music, and dim lighting
made the atmosphere intimate. A tall waiter led them to a table. He
took their drink orders and left. They looked at each other for
several seconds.

“Well?” Lyrissa prompted.

“Well,” Noel replied with a smile.

“You wanted to talk, so talk.”

Noel tilted his head to one side and looked
at her pro-file. “You had some kind of plan and I wrecked it.
Good.”

Lyrissa blinked rapidly as though trying to
think of a comeback. “What?”

“You had me all figured out, right? You were
going to put me in my place and stay away from me.”

“Oh, right.” Lyrissa glanced away from
him.

“You’re special to me. What can I do to prove
it?”

Noel had never felt such a strong need to be
believed. Everything else became insignificant. All his
concentration was on her. Lyrissa must have felt the vibrations
coming from his body. When she turned to look into his eyes, there
was no anger or skepticism. What he saw was a raw need to believe.
He kissed her hard. She froze, but only for a moment. Then she
relaxed in his arms and returned his kiss hungrily. Noel pulled
away only to kiss her forehead, her eyes, her nose and her
chin.

“I want to make love to you right now,” he
whispered.

“Noel, we ...”

He smothered her words by kissing her again.
He drew away and smiled. “No pressure.”

Lyrissa touched the tips of her fingers to
his mouth. “Oh no, you’re being very subtle. We really should—”

“Take time and get to know each other,” Noel
finished for her.

“Yes,” she said softly.

“I like football, the Saints disappoint me
every year, but I’m still loyal. Blue is my favorite color. I like
fishing but don’t get to do it very often. What else?” Noel rubbed
his cheek against hers.

“You keep avoiding the real issue.” Lyrissa
pulled away. “I’m not going to play your game.”

Noel swallowed hard at the chill left when
she moved from him. Still he resisted the strong urge to reclaim
her warmth. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I don’t care what your society friends think
of me.” She put more distance between them as she spoke.

“Sounds good,” Noel answered cautiously. He
knew there was more.

“Your family is no problem. I mean, we’re
only dating.” Lyrissa spoke in a practical tone.

“Okay,” Noel said slowly. He didn’t like the
temporary way she made it sound but let her go on.

“So like I said, we don’t need to generate
drama. Let’s date, talk, and...” Lyrissa shrugged.

“And?” Noel rubbed his fingers along her left
arm. He watched goose bumps appear on her skin and wanted to kiss
each one.

“And,” she murmured as she looked at his
fingers.

“Can’t wait to fill in the blank,” Noel
whispered close to her ear.

“Stop that.” She took a deep breath.

“No,” he said simply.

She seemed to teeter on the brink of
surrender but pulled back at the last moment. “Why are you doing
this?”

“For once I’m not being practical.”

“Maybe we should be,” Lyrissa said with a
solemn expression.

“Do we want to be practical—or happy?”

Noel was stunned by how deep that question
reached into all his assumptions. His plan to have the “right” wife
to fit into a neat picture of the “right” life suddenly seemed
empty. Neither of them spoke for a time.

“I don’t know what to say.” She wore a
bewildered expression.

Noel touched his temple to hers. “Say yes,
we’ll be together.”

“It’s not going to be as easy as you make it
seem.”

“Maybe not. Right now what matters is that
we’re together. Let’s go to my apartment,” Noel whispered.

Lyrissa picked up his hand and moved it.
“We’re going to just talk tonight.”

“I love the sound of your voice.” Noel was
not going to play fair.

“You’ve got a devious streak, you know that?”
She gazed at him.

“Is it working?”

“Yes, but we’re going to stay here.” Lyrissa
did not move.

“Okay. I’m happy just being with you right
now.” Noel put both arms around her.

They talked for hours.

Lyrissa stood at the door and gritted her
teeth. This was the third house she’d been to today. The St. Denis
and Ro has clans were getting on her last nerve big time. She’d
visited two older women at opposite ends of the city. Each of them
had been more eccentric than Cousin Augustin by a mile. Lyrissa was
convinced that Noel’s family held the monopoly on nutty behavior.
She sighed deeply and steeled herself before she pressed the
doorbell. The chimes that followed played the opening song from
Phantom of the Opera. Her spirits fell to the ground.

“Perfect ending to my ‘X-Files’ day,” she
muttered.

Five minutes ticked by. Part of her was
relieved, the other irritated. She’d called Victorine St. Denis
Vivant and made an appointment. Ms. Vivant had sounded relatively
sane on the phone two days earlier, but that didn’t mean a thing
with this bunch. Lyrissa’s jaw ached from clenching her teeth all
day. Maybe this was a sign. She’d managed not to assault anyone
verbally until now. God might be telling her to quit while she was
ahead.

She turned to leave when she heard locks
click. The door creaked open two inches. A pair of pretty
gray-green eyes peeked around the edge. The shapely brows arched
and the door swung open.

“You must be Miss Rideau. Hmm, I know your
family background. Genealogy is my passion. One of many.” The tall
woman spoke in a familiar way, as though they were picking up a
conversation.

“Miss Vivant?” Lyrissa knew her day was going
to end as it had started when the woman nodded eagerly.

“Call me Vic, everyone does. Let’s not stand
on formality. So you want to see the art—what am I thinking? Come
in, darlin’.”

Vic stood at least five feet nine in flat
ballet shoes that were bright red. They matched the silk tank shirt
she wore over white Capri pants. Lyrissa knew from Cousin Augustin
and Noel that Vic was forty-seven. Yet she appeared to be at least
ten years younger. Her skin looked like smooth condensed milk. A
mass of dark curls were piled high on her head. Lyrissa noticed she
held a wine glass in her left hand. Could this day get worse? Vic
chattered on, oblivious to the fact that her visitor only nodded
occasionally. Lyrissa tried to break her rhythm three times before
succeeding.

“Excuse me, Vic. Vic, excuse me!” Lyrissa
raised her voice until she had her attention.

Vic blinked rapidly at her and smiled. “Yes,
darlin’?” “I’ll just check this list and then get out of your
way.”

“Don’t rush yourself, sugar. My evening is
free for once. We can start in the sun room.” She hooked one long
arm through Lyrissa’s and tugged her along.

“Oh, good.” Lyrissa spoke through a tight
smile that stretched her face to the limit.

“Rideau, the name dates back to the late
1790s, I believe. Or is it earlier? Quite prominent, too.” Vic
halted suddenly, causing Lyrissa to stumble.

“What’s wrong?” Lyrissa dreaded her answer.
Was this woman going to take weird behavior to new heights?

“Actually, you might be distantly related to
the Bonapartes. You know, Napoleon and Josephine,” she said in an
exaggerated French accent.

“I doubt that.” Lyrissa’s anxiety shot up for
another reason. This woman was too close to knowing her family
origins.

“Hmm.” Vic gave her a head-to-toe appraisal.
“Maybe not. There were two branches.”

Lyrissa nodded with relief. “Right, we’re not
all related. I have here—”

“Yes. One branch is thought to be descended
from the white planter Ribeau. Some stupid clerk at the Cabildo
copied it wrong.”

“Really? I didn’t know that”

Lyrissa knew very well about the legend of
Francois Ribeau. She could have set Vic straight with the real
story. But that would put her back onto Lyrissa’s family, and that
wouldn’t do at all.

Vic lifted a shoulder. “My passion, as I
said.”

“Yes, fascinating. I understand you have
three sculptures and two, possibly three, paintings. I’ll just look
at the paintings first.” Lyrissa attempted to take control of the
visit.

“Of course. Straight ahead.” Vic marched on,
dragging Lyrissa in her wake.

They did not follow a straight line at all.
The house was designed to curve around a central courtyard. They
walked down a hallway with glass on one side. Late afternoon sun
slanted across a green lawn with flowerbeds arranged around stone
benches. They entered an enchanting room filled with rattan
furniture upholstered in green, yellow, and white. Two large
ceiling fans whirred overhead.