headed to her battered red pickup truck and stood, digging her keys out of her purse. She wanted to get home and into her pajamas and into her bed. She needed to think, to pray. To sleep.
“Callie?”
She closed her eyes and stilled.
Tomas.
“Yes?” She didn’t dare turn around.
But she didn’t have to. He was there beside her, urging her around. “You left without saying good-night.”
“Good night.” She couldn’t look at him.
Tomas leaned down so she was forced to face him. “You’re not too happy about this, are you?”
Finally, she glanced up and into his unreadable eyes. “No. You’re shutting down the shipyard with a vague promise of opening it back up. We’ve heard that kind of vague promise before. It never is good. We need a solid assurance. We need jobs.”
He leaned a hand against her car, trapping her too close. “I have my reasons.”
“And those reasons are?”
“It’s time for a change. I think I can make that change.”
“It’s you taking over and telling us that we no longer matter,” she blurted. “You gave a good spiel and you made a lot of promises, but—”
“I’m not taking over anyone. I don’t want to own this town. I don’t need this town.”
But something in the way he said that made Callie lift her head to stare at him. “Then what do you want? What do you need?”
He stood staring down at her, the moonlight reflecting in his velvet dark eyes, the gray night washing over his intense scowl. His hard, harsh expression softened in the moonlight. “Callie...”
“I have to go,” she said. “I work for a living. I have to get up early.”
She struggled with her keys.
He grasped her hand, took the keys from her and opened the truck door. Not used to him being so kind, she moved around him and slid into the seat, but he held the door open and leaned in. “I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll talk then.”
“You don’t owe me any explanations, Tomas. You told me this was about industry. And it is. There’s good and bad in your announcement. Change is hard on a place that’s used to tradition, but we do need some sort of change. So I’m asking you to make it a good one. Don’t disregard the people of Fleur. We depend on each other around here, help each other, pray for each other. It’s hard on us when an outsider comes in and takes over, even if it is a write-off investment.”
“It’s progress, Callie. It’s business. And that means there are winners and losers.”
She took a deep breath and cranked the car. “Well, sometimes progress comes at a high price. And no one wins.”
He stood inside the truck door. “Don’t leave yet.”
She tugged on the door handle. “I have to go.”
He finally lifted his hand off the door. “Good night.”
Then he stepped back.
Callie didn’t dare look at him as she cranked the old truck and backed out of the parking space, but when she was a safe distance away, she glanced in the rearview mirror and saw him standing there staring after her.
This time, he hadn’t walked away.
* * *
The sun peeked over the morning horizon in pastels of shy pink and timid yellow. Callie and her crew arrived at Fleur House just as the shimmering rays filled the tall pines and ancient cypress trees along the bayou, casting out a path of light that seemed to absorb the stone-encased walls of the looming house and give them new life.
But she had to wonder if this house would ever feel alive. She didn’t think the lone man inhabiting it really knew about real life. But she’d decided not to dwell on Tomas Delacorte and his mysterious ways today.
Pulling her cranky old truck up underneath a just-green tallow tree, Callie got out and waited for the work van full of a half-dozen workers she’d hired to help her oversee this project.
“Gather around,” she called, smiling at Pretty Mollie and several younger teens from the church youth group. “Okay, we’ve talked about your pay and how many hours I’ll need y’all. Weekends and after school, of course. This is our first Saturday together, so I wanted to remind everyone of how this works. We’ll be here most of the day. My sister Alma will send out lunch so you won’t starve. But please remember to behave and work hard. The faster we get this done, the sooner you can go on home and get on with your Saturday-night plans.”
“You got any plans, Miss Callie?” one of the teens asked, grinning, his brown eyes twinkling.
Callie had known the kid since his birth, so she was used to his good-natured teasing. “No, David Lee, I don’t. Other than finding a quiet spot and reading a good book.”
“That sounds boring,” blonde-haired, blue-eyed Hannah said, one painted fingernail clawing at her spiral curls.
“You should try it sometime,” David Lee retorted. “Reading makes people smart. Oh, I mean some people.”
Hannah stuck out her tongue at him. “Then obviously you don’t read much yourself.”
Everyone laughed at that, except David Lee, of course.
Ah, young love. Callie remembered that. She and Dewayne had sparred and flirted in just such ways when they’d been in high school. And they’d married right after high school and moved into the tiny little house where Callie still lived not far from her papa’s house. Life had been good for a few years, but...life had a way of changing pretty fast.
“Let’s get to work,” she said, turning to open the tailgate of the truck so she could hand out shovels, picks and rakes. “I have a grid that we need to follow. “David Lee, why don’t you and the other boys start unloading these plants.” She pointed to a spot she’d already tilled and fertilized. “Set them right there and I’ll show you the grid once we get our tools in place.”
David Lee and the boys started doing as she’d asked while Callie and the girls gathered the tools. “We have a water jug,” Callie called out. “And drinking cups. Put your trash in the bag I brought, okay?”
The teens all mumbled and went about their various duties, and soon Callie was knee-deep in mud and manure and magnolia bushes. She tried not to look toward the house, toward that big window where Tomas usually stood. She hadn’t seen him since the meeting Wednesday night, but she knew he was somewhere in that big house, making plans for his future empire.
Hannah shoveled soil and shifted on her old tennis shoes. “I’ve heard a lot about Mr. Delacorte.”
“Me, too,” one of the other girls said. “My daddy says he’s gonna fire everybody down at the shipyard.” She stared up at the imposing mansion. “I guess
