Sweet Mystery (3 page)

“Whoa, who is that?” asked Wesley. He did not
follow Jamal into the shop, but lingered on the brick sidewalk,
staring down the street.

Rae followed his gaze. An unpleasant tingle
went through her at the sight of the curvy figure in a white pant
set. “Toya Jove,” she murmured, more to herself than to answer
Wesley’s question.

Toya straightened the stylish white,
short-sleeved shirt, with flowers in an appliqué pattern across the
front. A wide, white woven belt with a gold buckle was wrapped
around her waist. The pants were loose fitting, but still showed
her figure to advantage. She touched the designer sunglasses on her
face as she looked at Rae. Her lips lifted at one corner in a
perfect expression of disdain, and then she turned and walked away.
A tall man emerged from a storefront. After a brief exchange, Toya
went past him and into another store.

“Some lady. Maybe I could arrange to hang
with you a while longer.” Wesley seemed in a daze. “You know, help
out with the hall.”

“How thoughtful,” Rae said. Toya still had
that effect on men, it seemed. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with
Spider Woman, would it?”

“She’s something else.” Wesley still stared
in the direction that Toya had taken.

“Save your libido, Wes. Toya has an income
requirement for her men. Besides, she was just with some other poor
sucker. Guess he’s in her web.” Rae examined the tall man who had
spoken to Toya. To her surprise, he walked towards them.

Rae watched him approach, wondering why he
seemed familiar. He was at least six foot four, with skin that
shone like burnished bronze in the bright sunshine. His hair was a
cap of tight black curls; a short afro. Muscular arms appeared from
the light green, cotton-knit shirt neatly tucked into his chino
slacks. Graceful, like a trained athlete, his stride was
smooth.

Rae felt a prick of disappointment that he
wore dark sunglasses. She wanted to see the eyes of this stunning
man. What the heck is wrong with me? Rae wondered at her reaction
to this stranger. Though she’d had at least two serious
relationships in the past six years, Rae had never been one to fall
for a handsome face on sight. Life had made her wary of
good-looking men. Still, she was quite content to watch this man
walk by. He smiled, revealing even, white teeth. Rae nodded a
greeting, expecting him to continue on his way.

“Hello, Miss Dalcour,” he said in a voice
that hinted he sung bass.

“Hello.” Rae took his outstretched hand. The
flesh was smooth and cool.

She tried to recall his face and voice.
Strange, but she liked the solid feel of his hand in hers. It
seemed to steady her, giving a hint of how good the rest of him
would feel. His broad chest seemed perfect for touching. Rae
wondered if he was single. Being home might be even better than I
thought.

“You probably don’t remember me. We met only
a couple of times years ago. I’m Simon St. Cyr.” He smiled at
her.

So that was it – the St. Cyr clan. Now she
recognized him. His grandfather was the third partner in the
ill-fated venture that had left a stain on the Dalcour name all
these years. Joseph St. Cyr, Henry Jove and Pawpaw Vincent had been
best friends. As young men, they decided to go into business
together. Things had gone terribly wrong; all of it blamed on
Vincent Dalcour. Yet the St. Cyrs and Joves not only survived, but
prospered.

Rae gazed at the strong profile. Cold dislike
crept over her. This well-dressed pretty boy could not help but
strut in front of her.

“Oh yeah,” she said in a short tone. All
amorous thoughts of snuggling up to him vanished. “Sure you want to
be seen talking to me in public?”

Simon stopped smiling. “Ms. Dalcour, what’s
past is past. I don’t have any interest in a fifty-year-old feud.
When you get situated, give me a call.” He took a business card
from his shirt pocket.

Rae did not take it. “Why?”

“You might be interested in the discussions I
had with your father several months ago. He was planning to work
with me on developing your family’s property.”

“I have a hard time believing my father would
give you the time of day,” Rae replied, but she was intrigued
despite her words. Lucien had spoken to a St. Cyr? More to the
point, why would a St. Cyr talk to a Dalcour?

“Meet with me and I’ll explain it all to
you.” Simon nodded. He still held out his card, his expression
behind the sunglasses hinted at a challenge to her.

After a few seconds, Rae took it, and read,
“Heritage Contractors and Dirt Service.”

“Thursday morning at ten okay?” Simon pointed
to a building. “My office is down on Front Street, just a short
distance from here.”

“Okay.”

Rae watched him walk away. She definitely
liked the way the man moved. While her body reacted to the sensuous
presence of Simon St. Cyr, her mind issued a strong warning. What
could it hurt to listen for a few minutes? What she remembered of
him was neutral. Being four years older, Simon had been away at
college during her high-school years. Besides, she’d been too
infatuated with Darcy to notice other boys. Darcy. That experience
alone should have taught her that men from those two families were
trouble.

A stab of regret and pain made her wince at
the memories. Maybe she shouldn’t meet Simon. Keeping her distance
could be the best plan if she were to remain in Belle Rose. Rae
ground her teeth in frustration. Within ten minutes of seeing
Simon, she was torn with confusion. Trouble from the St. Cyrs and
Joves already! She sat down on a bench to wait for Wes and Jamal to
finish shopping. The small business district was quiet, with a few
tourists wandering from shop to shop. Rae was still lost in thought
when a shadow fell across her. Rae gazed up

“Look who’s back in town.” Toya stood over
her, a tight smile on her face. “Hello Raenette.”

“Hello Toya.” Rae resisted the urge to stand
up. Toya always had a way of making her feel outnumbered; somehow
at a disadvantage.

“Sorry to hear about your daddy. Mr. Lucien
was a real character; amusing in his way.” Toya wore a smile of
indulgence as she sat down on the opposite end of the bench. “So
you’ve been busy becoming a star, I hear.”

“Hardly, but we did okay.”

“You’re being modest. You always could play a
mean blues guitar.”

Rae wondered where this conversation was
going. Toya hardly cared about her or her music career. She settled
back against the bench and waited. “Thanks.”

“I’m sure you have lots of engagements.
Before you leave, tell me when your band will play around here
again. I’d like to see you perform.” Toya started to rise. Her tone
made it clear that she expected Rae to waste no time in leaving
Belle Rose.

“No problem. Since I’m staying, you’ll get to
see me as often as you like.” Rae grinned at the effect of her
words.

“Staying?” Toya echoed.

“Sure, Daddy’s business is still here. I
think it could be successful.”

Toya’s expression was taut. “Dalcour business
deals have a way of going up in flames. I shouldn’t have to remind
you of that.”

“Yeah, well, Simon St. Cyr doesn’t think so.
He practically offered me an engraved invitation to do business
with him.”

“Simon did what?” Toya snapped through
clenched teeth.

Rae laughed. So, mentioning him touched a
sore spot. “Made it a point to find me. Seems like a real nice
man.” She made the simple words sound suggestive. “I really look
forward to meeting with him.”

“You stay away from...” Toya’s voice trailed
off when she realized that Rae was enjoying her irritation. “You
never could recognize when you were out of your league.” She
flounced off.

“See you around, Toya,” Rae called out in a
false tone of friendliness.

Jamal and Wes appeared on the sidewalk,
carrying several bags of purchases. Wes tried to get Toya’s
attention, but she never looked his way.

“Let me guess, she wasn’t exactly a pal of
yours back in the old days,” Jamal said.

Wes gave a low grunt of approval. “My, oh my,
some fine-looking woman.”

“Wes, the woman is a chainsaw in expensive
leather pumps,” Rae replied. “Toya is ten times more deadly than
both your ex-wives.

“Ouch!” Wes wore a pained expression at the
mention of the two women who’d pursued him relentlessly for
alimony.

“Listen, Rae, seems there are a lot of bad
memories here for you. Not to mention bad feeling.” Jamal jerked a
thumb in the direction Toya had taken. “Sure you wanna hang around
here?”

Toya threw one last glare at them before
getting into her white Acura sedan and slamming the door.

Rae smiled “Oh yes, I’m looking forward to it
more and more.”

Chapter 2

“Look at this place. I don’t know how you
expect to make anything out of this,” Neville said.

Rae’s older brother had taken several days
off from his job at Bryer Chemical Plant. He’d insisted on helping
Rae, but what he really meant to do was convince her not to operate
the dance hall.

Rae gazed around at the dilapidated juke
joint that her father had operated for over twenty-five years. She
had to admit it looked pretty run down in the light of day. The
weather-beaten, cypress-wood planks that made up the outer walls
were broken in several places. One end of the roof sagged where a
corner post leaned crookedly.

“It’s not so bad. We had some good times in
here.” Andrew put up a weak defense. Even he grimaced when they
walked inside.

“How long since it was open for business?”
Rae pushed a broken chair from her path. The only light came from
the one of two windows since the electricity was turned off.

“At least three years.” Andrew ran a hand
along one wall. “Poor Daddy.”

“Even when he had it open, Daddy had to work
to support himself.” Neville was not feeling sentimental about the
dance hall. “Then he had to stop just about everything when he went
on disability. Not a thriving business.”

“When we was kids, this place would jump.
Remember how we’d sneak over here and listen to the music?” Andrew
ignored Neville’s attempts to push reality into the room.

“Yeah, Robert Cheval’s band would come in on
Saturday afternoons. Some of the best blues in south Louisiana was
right here.” Rae looked at the rickety tables with fondness. She
still played songs that were old when she was a child.

“I can’t believe y’all.” Neville threw up
both hands. “This place kept Daddy away from home. Mama struggled
by herself with bills and three children. I would just as soon see
this place bulldozed.”

“What’s wrong with making it work, Neville?”
Rae walked up to him and touched his arm. “The Dalcour family
deserves some kind of legacy.”

“Not this, Raenette. This is not the legacy I
want my children to have. And you shouldn’t want any business where
liquor is served after what it did to Daddy.” Neville spoke with
bitterness.

Rae did not have an answer; that was one
aspect of having the dance hall that bothered her. She had used
music as an escape while Neville had pursued middle-class
respectability with a vengeance to put some distance. Andrew,
alone, seemed to be tracking their father’s path to dependence
without any realization of it. But how could she operate the dance
hall without liquor and hope to make it work? Giving up on Lucien’s
pride and joy seemed a dishonor to his memory.

Rae shook her head slowly. “I’ve got to do
this. I don’t know how, but I’m going to bring the dance hall
back.”

“Go on little sister. In between working down
at the crawfish plant, I’ll help. Speaking of which, I got to go.
See y’all later.” Andrew slapped his hands together and walked
outside whistling.

“Sure. He’s looking forward to another place
where he can sit around drinking all the time. Let it go, Rae.”

“Most people around here still think of us as
trash. Daddy hated the thought that his grandchildren would think
of the Dalcour name like it was something to run away from,” Rae
said with fierceness.

“You left a long time ago for that same
reason. So did I.” Neville stuck his hands in his pockets. “I hated
having folks whisper behind my back. Now it’s going to start up
again. I don’t want my children to hear the old stories.”

Rae sat down hard in one of the old chairs.
“Daddy always swore that Pawpaw Vincent was no thief.”

“He was just six years old and he never knew
for sure. I don’t care what he said.” Neville took a deep breath.
“Pawpaw disappeared, they never found the money and Estelle Jove
went with him.”

Rae closed her eyes at his succinct summary
of a generation of misery; the shameful family secret that was
still whispered when Rae and her brothers were children. Vincent
Dalcour, thief and adulterer. Lucien never accepted that as truth
though his mother cursed her missing husband’s name until she died.
The money that would have made Belle Rose a prosperous community
was gone. Instead of gaining investment from the large
machine-parts plant, which would have brought jobs, the company
went elsewhere. So Vincent Dalcour had not only robbed his business
partners; he’d robbed his community, too.

Neville made valid points. In the face of a
no-nonsense presentation of the facts, her plans seemed a misplaced
attempt to make up for all the hurt Lucien had suffered. Then there
was the deep guilt that she had betrayed Lucien by leaving all
those years ago. The ugly words she’d spoken were still with
her.

Rae leaned against the old bar. “Daddy wanted
me to change things.”

“But you can’t, anymore than he could. That’s
why he was so miserable most times. Don’t let it drag you down.”
Neville put an arm around her shoulder and led her out of the dance
hall.