Tell Me Something Good (32 page)

“Have mercy!” Lyrissa sighed. “Mama Grace
needs to let it go, Aunt Claire. We can’t let the past rule us
anymore.” “Grace sees a lot of herself in you. You’re both
determined, stubborn and—”

“I get your point.” Lyrissa cut her off with
a grin. Her expression grew serious again. “She thinks I’m
repeating her mistake. It is kinda spooky.”

“Seems we’ve come full circle.” Aunt Claire
studied her for a time. “You’re between a rock and a hard place,
cher,” she said quietly.

Lyrissa gazed out the window. Doubts crowded
out her confidence in telling Noel everything. She’d felt so sure
when she was in his arms. What if she were repeating the past in
some cruel twist of fate?

“Any ideas on how I can straighten out this
fix I’m in?” Lyrissa searched her face, hoping for an answer.

“It’s going to be messy no matter what you
do. The question is, what are you willing to give up?”

Lyrissa leaned both elbows on the table and
wore a bleak expression. “That’s not what I wanted to hear. But
it’s the truth. The light at the end of this tunnel is a speeding
train.”

Lyrissa flipped through the full-color glossy
brochure with a grim expression. So for she’d found ten typos. “I
just may have to kill somebody,” she muttered.

The day was heading south big time. Blue
Monday had started with a frustrating drive to work through city
traffic. Mr. Taylor walked around in a crabby mood all morning. Now
she had to give him the bad news about the brochure they needed in
less than two weeks. The phone rang.

“Damn it! I can’t get anything done.” She
snatched the receiver from the base and strained to be polite.
“Hello, Taylor Gallery. How may I help you?”

“Hi, sweet thing. And how is your day going?”
Noel said.

“Don’t ask.” Lyrissa balanced the receiver on
her shoulder and continued to look at the photos of brass
sculptures.

“Things will get better today, babe,” he
replied.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m hangin’ on by a thread and
it’s not even noon. How are you?”

“Fine and mellow, now that I’ve heard your
voice. Meet me for lunch and I’ll make sure the rest of the day is
better. I’ve got a nice surprise for you.”

“Okay. I sure could use something good to
make me forget this hellish morning.” Her irritable mood eased at
the thought of seeing him. Yet Noel’s deep laughter through the
phone sent chills through her.

“The real good stuff will come later.”

“Can’t wait. Meet you at twelve-thirty?”

“Yes, at the Gumbo Shop. Bye, baby.” Noel
made a kissing sound before the phone clicked off.

“Bye, darlin’.”

Lyrissa smiled as she hung up the phone. Her
smile faded as she remembered her dilemma. A small voice reminded
her that time was running out.

“Okay, okay,” she snapped at herself. “I’ll
tell him.”

Mr. Taylor strode into her office. “What is
going on with you and Georgina St. Denis?”

“Nothing that I know of. Why?” Her heart
thumped. “She just got through slicing and dicing my butt.
Something about a reporter, slanderous lies, and we’ll be hearing
from her attorney. She says you have no integrity.” He leaned on
her desk, both palms flat. “Lyrissa, what in the world is the woman
ranting about?”

Lyrissa dropped the brochure. “A reporter?
She mentioned a reporter?”

“Aside from having Georgina St. Denis angry
with me, this could be a very good thing, Lyrissa. Nothing like a
touch of notoriety to make a collection valuable. Not to

mention people will flock to my gallery.” Mr.
Taylor wore a calculating smile.

“What exactly did she say? Mr. Taylor!”
Lyrissa raised her voice to get his attention.

“Hmm, oh just that this reporter called from
the New Orleans Chronicle to get her comments on this story.” Mr.
Taylor stood straight and crossed his arms. “This is too good to be
true.” He beamed at Lyrissa.

“Dionne,” Lyrissa groaned. “Damn!”

“Dionne Jackson? That’s one tough
investigative re-porter. She loves to burn folks.” Mr. Taylor waved
his hands excitedly. “Could it get any better?”

“I’m going to nm out and get a copy of that
damn pa-per.” Lyrissa sprang from her chair.

“Excellent idea.” Mr. Taylor pulled out his
wallet. He removed several bills and shoved them at her. “Here, get
as many copies as you can. I’ll keep them here in the gallery for
customers to see!”

Lyrissa grabbed the money without looking at
it. She headed for the door. “I’ve got to see what’s in the
article,” she said, more to herself than to Mr. Taylor.

“By the way, what about this brochure?” He
picked it up. “Typos. It has to be done over. Call the printer.
Chew him out,” Lyrissa called over her shoulder as she raced across
the lobby.

“No problem.” Mr. Taylor did not lose his
smile. “I’ll deal with him. I’m sure he’ll put his staff to work
and get it done in time.”

She barely heard him as she pushed out the
door and onto the sidewalk. She strode quickly to the comer
convenience store. A blue metal newspaper dispenser sat out-side.
The Chronicle took pride in “printing hard-hitting stories” as they
called them. They specialized in going after prominent people. She
got change from the cashier and fed the machine. As she reached in
for a stack, the bold headline made her stomach lurch.

“Famous Collection Stained By Scandal,” she
read aloud. “Damn! I’ve got to call Noel fast.”

Lyrissa whirled around and headed for the
gallery. On the way back she’d stop, read a few sentences, curse,
and start walking again. People gave her a wide berth, no doubt
convinced she’d gone insane. She didn’t notice. The only thing she
could think of was Noel’s reaction to the story.

Lyrissa got back to the gallery.

“Give me, give me!” Mr. Taylor bubbled.
“Louis from Chartres Art Emporium just called. He’s s-o-o-o
jealous. Says they mentioned us three times.”

Lyrissa literally tossed him all of the
copies except one. She went into her office and paced in a circle
as she read the rest of the article. Kevin stuck his head in.

“Lyrissa, Tameka has a call for you. But I’ll
have her take a message if you’re busy.”

Lyrissa heard his voice, but couldn’t stop
reading. “The St. Denis family collection was seemingly acquired
with the same single-minded ruthlessness as they’ve shown in
business for decades.”

“Tameka is going on her break again. She’s
part-time and takes more breaks than I do,” Kevin complained.
“Anyway, you’re busy. I’ll just take the message from Mr. St.
Denis.”

“No, don’t do that!” she yelled, causing him
to jump back. “Sorry, I’ll take the call.”

“Okay.”

Kevin gazed at her with a curious expression
as he backed out of her office. Moments later her phone rang.
Lyrissa took a deep breath and let it out to steady her nerves. No
good. She picked up the receiver with dread.

“Noel, I can explain,” she began.

“Good. Come to my office.”

“Now?” Lyrissa’s voice wavered.

“I’ll expect to see you in fifteen minutes,
Lyrissa.” He hung up the phone.

Lyrissa groaned and hung up. She grabbed her
purse as she headed back out. Mr. Taylor emerged from his office
waving the newspaper.

“Listen, about the show next month—”

“Later. I’ve got to go.” Lyrissa didn’t break
her stride.

“Lyrissa, you can’t leave now. We’ve got to
talk about—”

“I can’t right now, Mr. Taylor,” Lyrissa
shouted.

Traffic was still heavy. Lyrissa’s mind raced
as she tried to think of what she would say. Unlike her morning
commute, the trip seemed too short. She needed more time. Yet there
could never be enough hours in the day to help her prepare to face
Noel. Eddie was at her desk when Lyrissa arrived outside Noel’s
office.

“Hi. He said you should go right in.” Eddie’s
expression was grave. “Uh, Julie’s already in there, and so is
Carlton,” she added.

“How bad is it?” Lyrissa fingered her copy of
the Chronicle.

“I’ve never seen him this upset, and Carlton
has a talent for getting on his nerves.”

“Notify my next of kin,” Lyrissa mumbled. She
squared her shoulders and opened the door.

Julie, Carlton, and Noel stood holding copies
of the newspaper. Conversation stopped when they saw her. Julie
wore a smirk. Noel gazed at her with a severe expression like
chiseled stone.

“Let’s sit down,” Noel said and waved a hand
at the seating area. The others followed him. They’d barely settled
when he spoke again. “My grandmother is upset, and rightly so,
Lyrissa.”

“Upset is an understatement,” Carlton put in.
“She’s in a rage. You know how she feels about the family name. She
certainly doesn’t like family business talked about publicly.”

Three sets of eyes stared at her. “The
stories all came from historical record,” Lyrissa said
carefully.

“The reporter seems to have been reading
family documents from our archives,” Carlton shot back.

“Or talking to someone who had,” Julie added.
“The documents you had access to for weeks.”

“The Louisiana State Museum has documents,
too. The reporter could have gotten information from there,” Noel
said quietly.

“How would she know what to look for, or even
where to look? No, Noel, obviously this information was fed to
her.” Julie looked at Lyrissa again.

“Lyrissa has done publicity for the art show.
She talked to reporters and art reviewers about the family
history.” Noel rubbed his jaw.

“Then she’s done her job too damn well,”
Carlton snapped.

Julie’s eyes narrowed. “This was part of your
scheme, wasn’t it, Ms. Rideau?” She looked like a large cat about
to pounce on a bird.

“That’s enough, Julie,” Noel said.

“She saw you coming. All she did was wiggle
her butt and your common sense flew out the window. She used
you.”

“You’re going too far, Julie.” Noel’s eyes
flashed a warning at her.

“Am I?” Julie stared at Lyrissa.

Noel glanced at the two women. His dark brows
came together. “Lyrissa, what is she talking about?”

“No, I want the pleasure of telling you,”
Julie cut in before Lyrissa could speak. “She had a secret agenda.
‘Sun-day Stroll on the Faubourg Trem飒 is an extremely valuable
painting that was done by her ancestor. Her family had claimed for
years that a St. Denis stole it. They’ve been plotting to get it
back. Seducing you was part of the plan.” She smiled with
satisfaction.

“I’m afraid she played you, Noel,” Carlton
said in a dry tone.

Noel sat silent for several minutes. “I want
to talk to Lyrissa alone,” he said in a low voice.

“The board will want answers. We need to
address this vicious attack on our reputation.” Carlton held up the
newspaper to emphasize his point.

“Later, Carlton,” Noel replied without
looking at him.

Lyrissa tried to gaze back at Noel, but the
hurt in his eyes was too much to bear. She glanced away. No one
spoke for several seconds more. Carlton huffed at being dismissed.
Yet he merely glared at Noel.

“I’ll check back with you later, Noel,” Julie
said smugly. “Come on, Carlton.” He followed her out after frowning
at Lyrissa once more.

Noel continued to stare at her. “Are they
right? Did you use me?”

“Of course not. I didn’t use sex to pry
information out of you.” Lyrissa went to the window and stared down
at the street. “I already knew enough by the time we ...”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t be sure how you’d react at first.
I needed to check family records.”

“I see. So you did use me.” Noel’s jaw
muscles stretched tight.

“Noel, I—”

“You came here and searched for evidence. You
stalled for more time until you found what you needed,” he said in
a cold, harsh voice.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Come on! You strung me along so you could
stay longer.” Noel stood and walked to her.

“The painting really does belong to my
family. You even admitted that your ancestors were unscrupulous.”
“Now I get it. We had long talks about my family history. No wonder
you were so interested. I was stupid enough to think you enjoyed
being with me.” Noel looked into her eyes.

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“Do I?” Noel gave a short, bitter laugh. “I
don’t know much at all. I sure didn’t have sense enough to see
through you.”

“It’s just one painting. Your family has an
entire collection of valuable art and a major business.” Lyrissa
shook her head. “You didn’t even know what you had.”

“Which makes what you did okay, I guess.
We’re rich, so anything goes.”

“To you that painting is just another asset,
a dollar figure to add to your balance sheet. My grandmother sees
that painting as the last hope she has to save our family’s legacy.
‘Sunday Stroll’ is just about all we have left.” Lyrissa put a hand
on his arm. “She’s seen too much slip from her hands”

“In other words, the painting represents a
chance to re-store your family status. And you accuse us of being
snobs.” Noel shook her hand from his arm and walked to his
desk.

Lyrissa sighed. “Mama Grace feels it’s her
responsibility to hold onto our heritage. She’s a proud woman. I’m
sure you understand.”

Noel shook the newspaper. “According to this
story, my grandfather, his father, and his father were thieves. I
feel a responsibility to them.”

“But they knew the truth, Noel. They knew the
circumstances of how that painting was acquired,” Lyrissa said
forcefully.

“Your truth, Lyrissa. There are two sides to
every story, or history, in this case.” He threw the newspaper onto
his desk.

“I was going to tell you, Noel. This article
caught me by surprise, too. I know how it looks, but I’m not lying
to you.” Lyrissa tried to get close to him. His rigid stance
stopped her.