gotcha covered.” He gave her a thumb’s-up.
She watched him trot toward the kitchen. “He seems nice,” she commented. “How did you meet him, Devin?”
“We went to school together.”
“Old friends tend to be the best.”
Dev pulled out one of the chairs that had come with the place—either old or antique, depending on your point of view. “To what do we owe this honor?”
She sat down, her movements ladylike and precise. “The honor is mine,” she countered, folding her hands neatly on the plastic tablecloth. “I’m the first member of the family to see the enterprise that’s taken you away from us.”
Dev felt a familiar stab of guilt. Until recently he’d worked for WDIX- TV as assistant to station manager André Lyon. It was a job he’d loved in an industry he still loved. But family politics—specifically the long-simmering feud between the two branches of the Lyon family—had finally made him too uncomfortable to remain.
He’d hesitated to leave, knowing his stepfather, Alain, would be furious. But when his mother died last January, Dev had felt free to do anything he wanted, and there wasn’t a damned thing Alain or anybody else could do about it.
So he’d quit.
“WDIX will get along fine without me,” he said, sitting down across from her. “It was time.”
Felix plunked down two tall glasses of sparkling clear iced tea. “Do you want sugar or anythin’?”
“Sugar, please.”
Felix opened one big hand and several packets tumbled onto the table. “You sure there’s nothin’ else I can get you?”
“Quite sure.” She ripped open a packet and poured the white crystals into her glass. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome. Now I hafta get back on that telephone. We gotta get this air conditioner workin’ right. Nice meetin’ you, Miz Lyon.”
“Nice meeting you, Mr. Brown.” Margaret poked at an ice cube in an effort to stir the sugar into the tea. When Felix was gone, she said to Dev, “That young man is your partner, you say?”
“That’s right. He’s got the know-how and I’ve got the money—or at least enough to get us started.” Once escrow closed on his mother’s house in the bayou, his financial situation would improve vastly.
Margaret nodded thoughtfully. “The name is quite amusing—Down at the Bayou with a local accent.”
“Felix’s idea. Goes with Cajun and soul food.”
She picked up her tea and sipped it in silence, and it occurred to him that she seemed uncomfortable for some reason. While he searched for a way to put her at ease, she sighed and lifted her gaze to meet his.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve intruded upon your time here today.”
“I figured you’d get around to telling me sooner or later. Take your time, Tante Margaret.”
Her face tensed almost imperceptibly. “That’s just the problem. I’m not sure how much time I have—or more properly, how much time Paul has.”
Dev straightened in his chair, all the lightness going out of his mood. “There’s something wrong with Mr. Lyon?” She might be Tante Margaret, but her husband was never anything other than Mr. Lyon.
She sighed. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to alarm you. He’s... as fine as can be expected. But, Devin, I need a favor, a very important favor. Since I don’t wish to be in anyone’s debt, I’ll insist upon paying for it by backing this enterprise of yours financially.”
He stiffened, all too aware of what he already owed this woman and her family. For years she and her husband had backed the other restaurant, the one inherited by his step-grandfather Charles sometime after the big family breakup in 1949. That other wealthier branch of the Lyon family had continued to provide infusions of cash until Alain took over from Charles in 1985, after which the restaurant apparently began turning a profit.
Charles was no businessman. Everybody in the family knew that, although nobody ever talked openly about it. They talked privately, though, and often to Dev, who’d realized long ago that he attracted confidences. As a result he often found himself burdened with secrets he preferred not to know.
But Margaret Lyon was special. She’d been kind to his mother both before and after the divorce. Margaret had even dropped by the hospital during Yvette’s last illness, and she’d been the only Lyon who’d attended the funeral.
Tight-jawed but trying not to reveal the pressure he felt, Dev spoke calmly. “I won’t take your money, Tante Margaret. I’m already in your debt for past kindnesses. Of course, I’ll do anything I can to help you.”
She sighed. “I’ve offended you.”
“Not at all. I appreciate the offer...but I just don’t know what I could do for you that others couldn’t do better.” Suddenly he wondered what he would say if she asked him to return to WDIX. His belly clenched at that possibility.
“You’re the only one who can do this.” She drew a deep breath and spoke in a rush. “Devin, I want you to go to Colorado and convince my granddaughter to come back home before it’s too late. Her grandfather’s health is failing and I want...” Her eyes flashed and she changed course. “No, I demand that all the Lyons rally round him while there’s still time.”
Dev stared at her, taken aback. This was the last thing he’d expected.
She fixed him with her piercing gaze. “Please do this for me. It’s very important.”
For a moment he forgot to breathe. He’d had no idea the old gentleman was in anything but the best of health for someone in his eighties. At the fiftieth anniversary celebration, Paul Lyon had looked fine and appeared to be thoroughly enjoying himself. WDIX without the Voice of Dixie was unthinkable.
But so was waltzing off to Colorado on a wildgoose chase, and if there was ever a wild goose it was Charlotte Lyon—once his Sharlee but no more. She hadn’t even spoken to him when she’d been home in July, which had pissed him off considerably.
“Tante Margaret, I was... close to Charlotte once, but that was a long time ago.”
In fact, Dev and Sharlee had once shared a brief but fiery infatuation, when she was sixteen and he nineteen. He wasn’t very proud of himself for taking her virginity, but he simply hadn’t been strong enough or mature enough to turn his back on what she offered.
Her alarmed family, including Tante Margaret, had done everything humanly possible to drive the young lovers apart before they got “too involved.” Only Dev’s stepfather, had taken the opposite tack.
To this day Sharlee and Dev had never talked about what had happened, which left Dev’s guilt intact.
“We’re strangers,” he said. The harshness in his voice surprised him. “What makes you think I—”
“Desperation,”
