To My Senses The Nicci Beauvoir Series Book 1 (8 page)

“
I’ll walk you back to your
car,” he grumbled, without turning to look at me.

I gathered my things and
got out of the car. “No, I’ll be all right.”

He hurried from the
driver’s side and came around to me. “I’m glad we had a chance to
talk and get to know each other today, Nicci.”

His features remained
blank. His eyes showed no warmth. The cool professional was back.
There was no hint of the playful boy I had seen in the
park.

“
Yeah, me too.” I directed
my eyes to the tourists walking by, the buildings surrounding us,
anywhere but at him. “Thank you,” I added, as I made my move to
walk away.

He held my arm. “I’m not
angry with you, I’m angry with myself. Don’t walk away thinking
that today was not special to me.” He let go of my arm and wiped
his face in his hands. “Oh, Nicci! What am I to do with you?” His
eyes searched mine, and then he gently caressed my
cheek.

Chills ran down to my toes.
“Good-bye, David.”

He stiffened and pulled his
hand away. At first, I thought he would get into his car without
another word, but with his hand on the car door, he peered over at
me.

“
I’ll see you again,” he
pledged.

“
Might just. New Orleans is
a real small town.”

He climbed into the car and
drove off. I walked away without turning back to watch the Jaguar
head down Royal Street. I hoped to never see the man again. It was
best to keep someone like David Alexander at a distance. My past
experiences had proven that people were guaranteed to do one of
three things: lie, leave, or let you down. I knew any relationship
with David Alexander would eventually end up reaffirming those
beliefs. No matter how much I wished he would prove me
wrong.

Chapter 4

I arrived at home later
that evening, and found my father in the middle of a heated
argument on his cell phone with some man named Phil. Dad was not a
screamer. To upset him, you had to be either stupid, or rude. Phil
was obviously a combination of the two, because the more my father
spoke, the hotter his temper got.

Deciding the best place for
me to be was out of his way, I avoided his study and went directly
to the kitchen to search for something to eat. There was some
shrimp pasta in the fridge, and I was about to sit down at the
table to begin my meal when my father bounded through the kitchen
door.

“
Your Uncle Lance is a
complete idiot,” he shouted.

“
No argument here.” I
filled my mouth with a forkful of pasta.

My father stopped in his
tracks and gave me a curious look. Without saying anything, he
walked over to the refrigerator door and opened it. Several minutes
later, he was still standing there.

“
Dad, the lettuce is
wilting.”

“
Oh, right.” He closed the
door and sat down next to me at the kitchen table, giving a heavy
sigh as his body sank into the chair. I had seen this behavior
before. It always occurred with Uncle Lance’s larger than usual
screw-ups.

“
What did he do this time?”
I asked.

“
The usual, made promises
he didn’t keep. So, I will have to spend my day tomorrow cleaning
up his mess. Right now is just a bad time.”

“
Why should now be any
different?”

“
There are a lot of rumors
flying about town. It’s nothing for you to worry about.” He stopped
and touched my cheek. “You look sunburned. What did you do today?
Play hooky?”

“
Would you be surprised if
I did?”

“
No, I’d be glad to know
you kept your nose out of a book for a change.” His face softened.
“What did you do?”

“
I went
fishing.”

His jaw dropped. “Fishing?
Nicci, you haven’t wanted to go fishing since you were eight. Who
in the hell talked you into fishing?” He stole a few pieces of my
pasta.

“
No one you know. Just a
guy.”

“
A guy? What sort of a guy?
Can I have some details?” He nudged me with his elbow. “As the
father who has watched you grow up taking little to no interest in
the opposite sex, I must demand that I at least get some
information about my potential son-in-law.”

“
He is not potential
son-in-law material. He’s a friend, that’s all. And he’s involved
with someone else.”

“
Do I look stupid?” He
arched an eyebrow at me. “Nicci, when you come into this house and
mention that someone has conned you into skipping classes for the
day, for which I have no doubt you either had to be conned or
abducted…I am thrilled to think there is someone out there who you
have found to be…well, I don’t know. How do you find this
fellow?”

“
Interesting.”

“
What did you
say?”

“
I said I found him
interesting.”

My Dad’s eyes grew larger.
“Does this interesting man have a name?”

“
David.”

“
Is this
David the same interesting man you met at Myra Chopin’s lawn
party?” I said nothing and dropped my eyes to the table. “So
it
is
the gigolo.”
He gave another heavy sigh.

“
As I said, he is a friend.
Nothing happened. We just fished and talked.” I patted his
hand.

“
Maybe today. What about
tomorrow?”

“
Dad, with this man there
is no tomorrow. He’s someone I find interesting because he is
intelligent and only interested in talking with me.”

“
It’s not the conversation
I’m worried about, Nicci.”

“
Dad, I’m not going to run
away with a gigolo. I’m going to finish school and become a nurse.
Then maybe later on, I’ll find a nice, normal guy and get
married.”

“
I don’t care if you marry
a pimp, a gigolo, or a dog catcher. I would have reservations, but
as long as he makes you happy…I know he would do right by you if he
loved you. Unfortunately, women always seem to love men that don’t
return that love in kind. They only find out after an irreversible
event has occurred, that the man they loved was no good all
along.”

“
Dad, I went fishing with
the guy. We mutilated worms together. We did not plot our escape to
the Fiji Islands or anything.”

“
I know you won’t do
anything like that. You’re too sensible.” He got up from his chair
and gave me a kiss on the forehead. “Just don’t get hurt, Nicci.
Scars like that never really go away. They just become barricades
to happiness.”

“
Care to tell me about your
scars?”

He stepped back.
“No.”

“
That’s not fair. I’m not
the only single person in this house. I know how you feel, but Mom
has been gone for a while. You need to think about perhaps dating
again, Dad.” He groaned and started walking away from me. “Come on,
you’re still young…ish and you could find someone nice to grow old
with.”

“
Grow old with? Someone
nice?” He gaped at me in horror. “What makes you think I don’t want
a twenty-year-old stripper with a great body and no
brains?”

“
Because she would never
get into the house alive.”

“
We could double. I get the
stripper and you get the gigolo.” He laughed. I didn’t.

I stood from the table.
“I’m worried about you being alone and you’re making
jokes.”

“
I appreciate your concern,
darling, but I don’t want to marry again. I had your mother and I
have you.” He sighed, the way he usually did at the mention of my
mother. “That’s enough. I don’t need anyone else.”

“
What about when I’m gone?
What if I decide to marry someday? I don’t want you to be alone.” I
stepped to closer to his side. “You weren’t really serious about
the stripper?”

He grinned. “I’d like to
give it a try.”

“
Do it and I’ll break every
bone in her body.”

“
God, you’re
tough.”

***

Sammy kept her promise of
showing David’s paintings at her gallery. She made it a premier
event and invited all her wealthy friends. Even Aunt Hattie and
Uncle Ned went and acquired one of David’s pieces.

Hattie invited me over the evening after the
showing to see her purchase. When I arrived, I found Colleen and
Hattie covered with flour and up to their eyeballs in stuffed
crabs.

“
They’re for the Garden
Club ladies luncheon,” she told me as she led me into her large
kitchen. “Everyone always asks me to bring them. What can I do? I
can’t disappoint them.”

“
Why don’t you just give
them poison, Mother? It would be much more merciful,” Colleen
commented.

“
That’s enough out of you
young lady!” Hattie chastised.

Hattie then handed me an
apron and pointed to a knife and a bag of onions waiting on the
kitchen counter. I had obviously been invited over to work, not to
socialize.

After we had chopped a
small mountain of onions, a teary-eyed Hattie nodded approvingly
and said, “Let me show you my picture, dear.”

I barely had time to wash
my hands before she dragged me out of the kitchen.

“
We went to the showing at
Sammy’s gallery on Magazine Street…or is it Prytania Street? I
always get those two streets confused,” Hattie muttered, as we
walked down the hall from the kitchen.

“
Mother, you get lost in
your own house,” Colleen ribbed, following behind us.

We entered Hattie’s white
cypress-paneled den. With an array of dark cherry furniture, and
one very bright pink rug, the room always reminded me of a hot
fudge sundae.

Hattie pointed to a
painting hanging on the far wall. “I paid a pretty penny for
it.”

It was of St. Anthony’s
Garden behind Saint Louis Cathedral. There were vibrant hues of
blue, green, brown, and gray interwoven throughout the piece. I
moved closer and inspected the work in detail.

The painting reminded me of
David, in a way. Bold on the surface, but once you looked beyond
the swirl of showy colors, you discovered a more expressive and
complex work of art.

Hattie was jabbering away
about the party and the showing—who was there and not there—when a
male voice broke into her ramblings.

“
I still don’t know why you
wanted that thing,” Uncle Ned chided.

Ned Vasterling was an
attorney who had met Hattie many years ago at a Mardi Gras ball. He
was tall, thin, and had a full head of gray hair. Uncle Ned also
had a very easygoing manner. In fact, nothing ever seemed to
fluster him. I’d never seen him angry with anyone, except
Colleen.

“
Hello, Nicci.” He kissed
my cheek. “She brought you over to see it, huh?”

“
Afraid so, Uncle
Ned.”

“
That thing cost me a small
fortune, but Hattie had to have it.” He gestured to the painting.
“I don’t know anything about art, but I liked the guy who painted
it.”

“
You met him? The artist, I
mean.” I waited for his reaction.

“
Yes, my dear,” Hattie
jumped in. “He was that gigolo of Sammy’s from Myra Chopin’s
debutante party. Likable fellow. He had an odd sense of humor,
though.”

“
His humor wasn’t that
perverse, Hattie.” Ned rolled his tired brown eyes. “He told me
about his work and we spoke for a good while. He was a very
intelligent and well educated man. He told me he had studied art at
some very prestigious schools. I liked him.”

It was a high compliment.

“
He was rather good
looking,” Colleen spoke up. “I mean, if you like that
type.”

Hattie shook her head at
her daughter. “Colleen, you’re taste in men leaves a lot to be
desired.”

“
At least I’m not on my
third husband,” Colleen mumbled.

“
Can you two please not do
this tonight,” Ned pleaded. “Nicci has come here to see the
painting, not listen to the two of you fight, again.”

The two women were
notorious up and down First Street for their rows.

“
It’s a wonderful painting,
Aunt Hattie,” I insisted, hoping to change the subject. “I think
the artist is very talented.”

“
Well, talent or not, he
only got the showing because of the good graces of Sammy,” Hattie
reflected, wiping her hands on her apron. “Otherwise, he would be
just another artist hanging out at Jackson Square.”

“
Hattie, Samantha Fallon
probably has been more than compensated for her little venture with
this man.” My uncle winked at me.

Hattie blushed. “Neddie!
You shouldn’t even talk about such things.”

I lowered my eyes to the
floor and tried desperately not to laugh.

“
I’m going back to my
crabs.” Hattie turned to Colleen and grabbed her arm. “Come on,
Colleen. Back to work.” She then dragged a reluctant Colleen out of
the room.

“
Not crabs again,” Uncle
Ned moaned. “I used to love stuffed crabs, now I have nightmares
about them.”