Tell Me Something Good (7 page)

“I’ve already spoken to him about it.” His
smile widened. “My grandmother put me in charge.”

A muscle in Lyrissa’s right cheek quivered as
she clenched her teeth. “Yes, well. I’ll be in touch,” she said
after several seconds.

“I look forward to hearing from you,” he
said, his voice like quiet thunder close to her face.

“Goodbye,” Lyrissa said, clipping the word
off as she maneuvered around him. She went down the stairs quickly
without looking back.

“Ms. Rideau,” he called after her.

Lyrissa paused, took a breath, and then
turned to him as he came down each step. “Yes?”

He took a business card from his inside
jacket pocket. “This is my direct phone number.”

I can do this. She took the small ivory
square with gold foil lettering on it. Their fingers touched
briefly, testing her strength. Ignoring the tiny needle of
electricity, she lifted her chin. “I’ll finish here. Then I’ll need
a list of your relatives’ addresses for the rest of the
collection.”

“No problem. Let me know when you’re ready,”
he said with a sober expression. He pointedly gazed at her
mouth.

She nodded and walked away very aware that he
was right behind her. Lyrissa put her tablet, pens, and pencils in
her briefcase.

“What time is your class?” he asked
casually.

“Four o’clock,” she said without
thinking.

“Then you’ve got time to stay for lunch,”
Noel replied. He looked at her when she glanced up. “To give us a
quick report.”

How could she refuse? She could he. “All
right,” came out before she knew it.

As Mrs. St. Denis, Noel and Lyrissa ate lunch
in the for-mal dining room, Lyrissa glanced up several times to
find Noel looking at her. By the time the lunch was over, Lyrissa
felt drained from all her efforts not to notice him. His
grandmother watched Noel watch her. Finally she was on her way out
the door.

“I’ll be back on Tuesday morning around nine,
Mrs. St. Denis. If that’s a good time for you, that is,” Lyrissa
said. She frowned when Noel took out his electronic date book and
tapped the small keypad.

“Fine, fine. Just call and remind Rosalie.
She’ll put it on my planner,” Mrs. St. Denis said. She also noticed
Noel’s action. Her dark brows came together.

“Goodbye, Lyrissa.” He held out his hand.

After a moment of hesitation, Lyrissa took
it, but let go after only a split second. “Goodbye.”

Noel’s amber eyes flickered with some hidden
message just for her. Or was she imagining things? Lyrissa nodded
to Miss Georgina and walked away.

She spent the next few hours trying to shake
off the effect of his smoldering gaze.

“I see something strange here in the cards.”
Lyrissa’s great- aunt Claire pursed her ruby red lips.

“Don’t be such an idiot,” Mama Grace said.
“Taking up Tarot reading at your age.” She made a rude noise to
punctuate her scorn.

Lyrissa rolled her eyes. She loved her
grandmother and great-aunt dearly, but they were a bit much at
times. Still, Mama Grace was conservative compared to her baby
sister Claire. A host of sterling silver bracelets tinkled
musically each time Aunt Claire moved her arms. She was sixty-three
going on sixteen. At sixty-eight, Mama Grace exercised full rights
to be the authority as the elder sister.

“The Tarot is reliable. Look at what happened
to Earl Collins. The cards—”

“Had nothing to do with it. Earl tripped over
his big feet like he’s done since we were children,” Mama Grace
said. “Now voodoo is a different matter.”

“Will you two stop? Retirement means taking
up knit-ting or Tai Chi, not witchcraft.” Lyrissa plopped down into
an overstuffed chair.

“Voodoo isn’t witchcraft, it’s a religion.”
Mama Grace shook a finger at her. “Besides, we’re only exploring in
the wonderful tradition of Miss Zora.”

“True,” Aunt Claire said.

“You know, Claire, I just thought of
something. Lyrissa is doing what Miss Zora did.” Mama Grace smiled
with pleasure. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Exactly, Grace. You hit it just right, as
usual.” Aunt Claire nodded at her sister.

Lyrissa sighed. Mama Grace and Aunt Claire
had long been ardent admirers of Zora Neale Hurston. They had in
fact become experts in Hurston’s writings and her life as an
ethnographer. Miss Zora, as they called her, had been an educated
and daring young woman. In order to learn about the folklore and
culture of poor blacks, she’d taken on the persona of a
working-class uneducated person. She’d even gone so far as to be
initiated as a voodoo priestess.

“God created a plethora of mysteries and
there are just as many ways to seek the answers,” Aunt Claire
said.

“In fortune telling and chicken bones? I
don’t think so. You’re retired librarians, for goodness’ sakes!
Give me a break”

“Don’t be a smart mouth,” Mama Grace shot
back.

“Okay, fine. But I’ll stick to what really
works.” Lyrissa nibbled on the small squares of fresh apple Aunt
Claire had served her. “Does anyone want to hear about my first day
working for Georgina St. Denis?”

“Of course we do!” Aunt Claire dropped the
card she was holding.

“So tell us. How bad off is the old hellcat?”
Mama Grace leaned forward with a gleam in her eyes.

“She’s doing great, considering,” Lyrissa
said.

“Humph! Georgina St. Denis will live to be
one hundred on sheer meanness.” Aunt Claire scowled.

“Did you see the painting?” Mama Grace
said.

Mama Grace referred to the reason Lyrissa
would suffer Miss Georgina’s tantrums. “Sunday Stroll on the
Faubourg Tremé” was a magnificent oil painting done by their
ancestor, Jules Joubert in 1819. It had been acquired by the St.
Denis family under questionable circumstances. “Stolen” was the
word her grandmother used regularly.

“I couldn’t exactly do an inventory, Mama
Grace.” Lyrissa looked at her. “I’m going to take my time, get
familiar with the house and the personalities.”

“What personalities?” Mama Grace said.

“There’s the housekeeper. She comes in four
days a week.” Lyrissa shifted in her chair.

“No problem.” Aunt Claire shrugged.

“And then there’s him” Lyrissa thought of
broad shoulders covered by expensive fabric.

Mama Grace blinked in confusion. “Georgina’s
husband has been dead for almost ten years now.”

“Her son lives in that new fancy suburb,
Gentilly Estates,” Aunt Claire put in.

“I mean her grandson, Noel” Lyrissa kept her
voice neutral, despite the way her body responded when she said his
name.

“Of course. They made him CEO of the company.
Our friend Bessie knows a lot about them. Did she mention him,
Claire?” Mama Grace gazed at her sister.

“She didn’t say much. Bessie mostly knows
about the older family members. What’s he like?” Aunt Claire turned
to Lyrissa.

Lyrissa stared ahead without seeing the
lovely Louisiana landscape painting on the wall. She thought of
lightly tan muscled arms. Phillip Noel St. Denis was like a quiet
storm. He’d snuck up on her with his eyes the color of almond. Too
bad he was an arrogant piece of work. Still, he had a body that
inspired fantasies. Lyrissa was a normal female. Unfortunately, she
was a female who’d hit a long dry spell when it came to finding
decent male company.

“Lyrissa?” Aunt Claire’s eyebrows formed twin
arches as she exchanged a glance with Mama Grace. “I think we’ve
got a little problem brewing,” she murmured.

“Lyrissa Michelle, focus,” Mama Grace ordered
with a solemn expression.

“He’s handsome, I take it,” Aunt Claire
said.

“He’s okay.” Lyrissa avoided her gaze. She
hoped Aunt Claire hadn’t developed a skill at reading minds.

“Hmm,” was all Aunt Claire said in response.
She continued staring at her great-niece.

“I was just thinking about ways to look
around the house with them there.”

“Sure you were.” Aunt Claire glanced at Mama
Grace again.

“Cut that out,” Lyrissa said. “I’ve got only
one interest in that family, to get back our property.”

“If you say so.” Aunt Claire seemed
unconvinced.

“Concentrate on your priority and ignore
anything else.” Mama Grace stared at her steadily as though to
detect any sign she’d do otherwise.

“No problem,” Lyrissa replied in a firm
voice. A tiny voice in her head said, Liar.

Lyrissa’s best friend, Ebony Armstrong, gazed
at her in amazement. They had met for lunch in a small soul food
deli on the comer of Louisiana Avenue. Ebony worked as an attorney
in a law firm with offices downtown.

“Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” Ebony
said. She brushed back her shoulder length braids. “You’re doing an
appraisal for the mighty St Denis family, the people you’re trying
to stick it to. Sweet deal.”

“You haven’t met Georgina St Denis.” Lyrissa
made a face.

Ebony laughed. “Like you can’t handle her.
What about this guy, Noel? Is the brother as fine as they say?”

“If you like that type.” Lyrissa waved a hand
as though dismissing him.

“Well, what type is he? Give me his stats,”
Ebony pressed. She leaned across the table, one hand propped under
her chin.

“About six feet three, built, medium sized.
Dark brown hair with some red highlights. His eyes are a light
brown, like cinnamon, sorta. Big shoulders, too.” Lyrissa gazed off
without seeing anything in the busy restaurant.

“So you’re telling me the man is more than
fine.”

“I guess. He’s what you’d expect from a St.
Denis.” “Gotcha. Looks good and knows it. They say he’s got a
supernatural way with women. Sure you won’t be tempted?”

Lyrissa’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care what
he looks like. I’m not into color-struck, stuck up—”

“Calm down, girl. I was just asking the
question. Geez!” “Now you’ve got your answer,” Lyrissa tossed back.
“Everybody in here got my answer!”

Lyrissa blushed and lowered her voice. “I
grew up with those folks looking down on me. Remember in school?”
“Hey, I was there. Damn right I remember.” Ebony frowned. “It was
no fun.”

“Even the teachers treated us like crap.”
Lyrissa shook her head. “Our families thought getting us into St.
Mary’s was the thing. We caught all kinds of hell.”

“Gotta admit it’s a good school. We got a
first-class education. Which is what they wanted for us.” Ebony
sighed.

“Yeah, we got an education, all right. In
more ways than one.”

Lyrissa learned her hardest lessons about
bigotry based on skin color at St. Mary’s Catholic School. The two
friends sat deep in thought for several moments, reflecting on the
past. Lyrissa and Ebony had really clung to each other for support
back then. Both were outsiders too dark and with hair too coarse to
be acceptable to the light-skinned Creole girls.

“Anyway, back to the present. You’re in the
St. Denis fortress,” Ebony said.

“Yeah, I’m in.”

“You plan ahead. Honey, I never would have
thought of what you’re doing.” Ebony wore an expression of
admiration.

Lyrissa sighed.

“You’re not doing anything wrong, just
gathering evidence so you can get back what’s rightfully yours,”
Ebony stated.

“It feels like I’m running a scam.” Lyrissa
frowned.

“No, no, no.” Ebony tapped the table three
times with her fist. “They pulled the scam.”

“Guess I’m too jumpy. With my big mouth and
quick temper, I’ll probably mess up,” Lyrissa said.

“You’re doing great so far.”

Lyrissa wondered again if she’d gotten in
over her head. “I just keep wanting to come out and tell them.
Fight head on, you know?”

“Their lawyers would blast you in a
blink-blink. I say get the ammunition you need to fight first, and
use the element of surprise.” Ebony outlined the plan like a
general.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“Hey, you can do it. Just be cool, and when
you’re sure, take care of business.” Ebony snapped her fingers.

“Right. Except for one little detail.”
Lyrissa leaned across the table.

Ebony gazed at her for a moment, and then
grinned. “Hit him fast and hard. I’ll start plotting our legal
approach. Just give me the evidence.”

“I’ve got to figure out a way to get it
first. These people aren’t stupid.” Lyrissa looked at her.

“You’ll work it out.” Ebony clapped her on
the shoulder.

“Oh, sure I will.”

Lyrissa laughed out loud but not because she
was amused. Ebony certainly overestimated her ingenuity. Not to
mention the other problem that she’d not counted on. Noel St. Denis
was more than a distraction. He was a sharp set of eyes that could
watch her every move. It had all seemed so simple three months ago
when she set the wheels in motion for Taylor Gallery to be hired by
Georgina St. Denis.

“This whole thing is gettin’ tricky, girl.”
Lyrissa muttered. A vivid memory of golden brown eyes popped into
her head.

“What do you think?” Mrs. St. Denis tipped
her head to one side like a schoolteacher testing a pupil.

“Well...” Lyrissa hesitated to answer
immediately.

They were in the study. Lyrissa almost forgot
to concentrate on her one goal. Like the rest of the huge house,
the library held paintings and other items she could happily spend
hours examining. All were of historical interest.

“Don’t be tentative or timid. I don’t like
either.” Mrs. St. Denis waited.

“My special area has been New Orleans art
history.” Lyrissa continued to examine the painting.

“Even better, but we’ll get to that later.
Well?”

“Hmm, late eighteenth century. Dutch, I’d
say. It’s a Van der Weele.” Lyrissa nodded as she continued to
study the painting.

“Very good.”

“Thank you,” Lyrissa said.