her doubt and a bit of sadness in her eyes, Jonah followed her across the arched bridge. “But you don’t believe I can do it, do you?”
She stopped, turned to face him. Her eyes had lost some of their fire. Now she looked gloomy, her whole body going still and quiet. “After the hurricane, things were bad around here. We were mostly cut off from the rest of the world. But we weren’t cut off from the scams. Some of our neighbors got taken advantage of, big-time.” She looked out over the old oak trees lining her side of the bank. “A lot of us got our feelings hurt. We trusted too quickly, because we were still reeling from all that had happened. So excuse me if I don’t exactly believe in a pretty boy with big promises of a grand scheme.”
He let that settle for a few seconds, then said, “First, I don’t do scams. I’m a legitimate businessman and I’m good at what I do—and your entire town council has checked and rechecked my credentials. Second, I’d never take advantage of anyone. I believe in solid investments, but I also believe in being efficient, economical and energy conscious. And third, do you really think I’m a ‘pretty boy’?”
She gave him a look that would have made an alligator grit his teeth and go back underwater. “I’ve seen your kind before, hotshot. And yes, I’m learning to question everything and everybody these days. So while I wish you the best, I’m not convinced.” With that she took off walking across the rickety old bridge, her arms swinging, her hair bouncing. “Nice talking to you. See you at the next town hall meeting. I’ll be there with my tape recorder.”
Jonah swallowed, took a breath then called, “Hey, you never did answer my question. Do you think I’m—”
She held up a hand but kept walking. “You don’t want to know what I think about you right now, trust me.”
Trust her? He wanted to laugh out loud. But he didn’t dare. Before he could trust her, he’d probably have to work double time just to get her to trust him. He couldn’t have her writing a scathing article about his plans. That wouldn’t work at all. Because she might dig too deep and find out the whole story behind his sudden, impulsive need to build on this ground. The Bryson sisters obviously carried a lot of weight in this town. He’d need their support, or his hopes and dreams could sink in the water.
But how was he supposed to win her over when he couldn’t even begin to explain why he’d taken a leave of absence from his own firm to come down here to personally supervise this project? How did a man explain to a complete stranger that he needed to know about this land and this town because he might have roots here?
He stared at her until she reached the steps leading to the second-story porch of the big, square white house, then shouted, “Can’t we sit down and discuss this a little more?”
“See you at the meeting,” she replied. Then she turned and waved to him before disappearing with a flounce through the screen door.
It swung wide and banged out a warning as it fell back against the door frame. A loud warning.
“Are you coming down for dinner?”
Alice heard the hidden question in her sister’s demand: Are you coming down to tell me everything and I mean everything because I watched the whole thing through the window and I’m dying to know.
She wasn’t in the mood to talk. But she was in the mood for biscuits and leftover pot roast. “I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”
Going to the tall windows of her cozy kitchen-and-den combination on the top left side of the house, she checked to make sure he was gone. When she didn’t see him in the growing dusk, she passed a hand over her hair then headed down the steps from her private apartment to the front door of the house.
The stairs leading down from the second floor made it easy for Alice to scoot down for meals with her sister and brother-in-law. But she tried to give them their privacy, so she didn’t make this a habit.
Except for Sundays. Sundays would always be family day at Rosette House. And tonight, as the sun sank in a swirl of pink and gold across the bayou and the frogs and cicadas started singing out in the swamp, she needed to be with family. Why was dusk always such a lonely time of day?
Putting thoughts of Jonah Sheridan out of her mind, Alice admired the bright orange pumpkins and lush yellow-and-red mums Lorene had arranged on a fresh bale of hay by the door. Her sister and Jay had remodeled what used to be considered the basement into a beautiful country kitchen and a huge hearth room, complete with the original fireplace and chimney. There was a breakfast nook in the kitchen and a formal dining room and tiny powder room across the wide hall on the other side of the house. Today, the tall French doors were thrown open to the late-autumn breezes flowing through the cross-ventilated rooms.
When Alice came through the double French doors into the breakfast room, the smell of fresh biscuits and pot roast wafted out to greet her and made her think of her parents. She could almost hear her mother’s gentle laughter, could see her daddy’s twinkling blue eyes. How she missed them.
But she had Lorene and Jay and soon they’d all have a baby to spoil. “Want me to pour the tea?” she said by way of a greeting.
“Sure,” Lorene said, glancing up as if to gauge Alice’s mood. “Have you been working?”
“No. Just folding some clothes and checking e-mail, nothing special.”
Jay looked from his wife to Alice, his dark brown eyes questioning. He knew they had their own kind of language, or at least he accused them of that very thing. A language full of feminine undertones and hushed whispers, he’d say. Alice pitied the poor man. He always squinted whenever they got going with the small talk that meant big talk later. Jay wanted to understand but he never would, really. Her brother-in-law was more comfortable out on a tractor, farming the land, than he was trying to figure out women. So now, in typical, quiet Jay fashion, he just sat and listened until they’d talked all around the subject not yet mentioned.
Then he said, “Let’s say grace and get to that pot roast.”
Lorene giggled like a schoolgirl. Alice smiled and grabbed their hands. And stewed about Jonah Sheridan while Jay said a lovely blessing. When she opened her eyes, her shrewd sister was staring at her. “Okay, start talking, Alice. What did you find out from our mysterious visitor?”
Jonah was stewing away over a cup of coffee in the tiny diner on the bottom floor of the Bayou Belle Inn. He was beginning to doubt his own sanity. Why had he come here? Oh, yeah. He wanted to build a new community on Bayou Rosette and he wanted to find out about the family who’d lived across from Rosette House. Two lofty notions, but he was willing to work on both—one to keep him busy and the other to finally find some closure in his life. If a certain curly-haired blonde with a hefty attitude didn’t get in his way. Or discover the truth before he ever broke ground.
“Why you look so glum, mon ami?”
Jonah looked up to find the proprietor of the Belle staring at him with a hangdog expression. Jimmy Germain had a gray beard and a little bit of gray hair to match on the back of his round head. He was short and husky and laughed with a robust belly bounce. His wife, Paulette, was also short and wide and very friendly. They made a good team and they cooked some good food.
So why wasn’t Jonah eating his crawfish po’boy?
“I
