Whispers of the Bayou (9 page)

Tess and I both looked to see an older, silver-haired distinguished gentleman, in an elegant suit and tie, coming toward us. He was gazing at me with curiosity, studying my face. I reached back to pat my pinned-up twist and met his eyes, nodding as I spoke.

“Yes?”

“I’m Charles Benochet. Are you Miranda?”

“Yes.”

“I knew it was you,
cher,
” he cried, slapping his knee as he broke into a broad smile. “Somethin’ about the way you carry yourself, and that dark hair. You remind me so much of your
mamere.
”

“My who?”

“Your
defante mamere,
your late grandmother. You look so much like her. And this must be your daughter, bless her heart. She looks like she takes after her daddy with those blond curls.”

He gave a little wave to Tess and she smiled shyly.

“Do you know my daddy?”

“No, I don’t,” he said, “but seeing as how there aren’t any blue-eyed
blondes on your mama’s side of the family, I have to guess that you got all that from him.” He knelt down to Tess’s level. “What’s your name, honey?”

“Tess,” she answered, hiding halfway behind my legs, thumb suddenly popping into her mouth.

“Cass?”

“
Tess,
” she repeated. “T-E-S-S.”

“Got it. Tess. Like, tess-ting one, two, three.”

She giggled, and he stood up straight again, grinning.

Since my grandmother’s death six years ago, I had spoken to Charles Benochet several times on the phone, always to discuss some detail of the estate that AJ needed my input on. In my mind’s eye, the man on the other end of the phone hadn’t been nearly so distinguished, so dapper. Maybe it was the South Louisiana accent, but I had pictured someone far less…cosmopolitan. Shaking hands with him now, I realized that I had judged this man unfairly just because of his country accent. Shame on me.

I explained that Tess would be leaving with my sister-in-law, who was supposed to be meeting us here. Unfortunately, there was still no sign of her, so I pulled out my cell phone to call. I had turned it off on the plane and as it sprang to life now, I saw that there was a message waiting for me. I dialed in to pick up that message and listened to Quinn apologizing profusely, saying that she’d been delayed at school. Apparently, she hadn’t realized that she had to fulfill several more duties in her job as a resident assistant in the dorm before she was free to leave town and head home. She promised to call me tomorrow once she was on the road, saying she expected to arrive in this area by two p.m. at the latest.

Hanging up the phone, I swallowed down my anxiety about having Tess tag along with me between now and then. All things considered, she should be safe; then again, I had thought I was safe yesterday cutting through an alley in Manhattan, and I had ended up facedown in slime.

Swallowing my anxiety for now, I told Tess about the change in plans. She took it better than I expected, seeming merely disappointed rather than devastated. We headed for the parking garage, Tess and I holding hands as we walked alongside Charles, his driver rolling the bags ahead
of us. Stepping outside, we encountered air so thick and hot that I felt as though a steaming wet washcloth had been slapped over my face. I had known that Louisiana in June would be warm, and I had certainly been to a number of humid places in my life, but I had never felt a combination of heat and humidity quite like this, at least not in my memory. The air was unbelievably oppressive. It didn’t help matters that my beige linen jacket and brown short-sleeved top formed layers that were no doubt holding in the heat, and the chic rope-and-ceramic-bead necklace I wore felt like a scratchy wool scarf.

But, thankfully, we were climbing into the air-conditioned comfort of the long black limousine a few moments later. Captivated by the television, bar, built in cooler, and other bells and whistles of the fancy vehicle, Tess became frustrated with me for making her wear her seatbelt when what she really wanted to do was jump around and explore. I finally got her to settle down by buckling her directly across from the DVD player, next to the window and within reach of the little fridge. I sat beside her, in the center of the back, and Charles took his place facing backwards on the seat across from us. Needing for her to be quiet and settle in for the ride, I pulled one of her favorite DVDs from her bag and handed it to Charles, who put it into the player. As the driver started up the car and drove us out of the airport, Charles got the DVD started and then made a big deal of letting Tess hold the remote control and showing her how to use it. Soon she was deeply engrossed in a show and we were away from the airport and pulling onto an elevated highway, Charles and I making polite conversation as we went.

The afternoon sun was strong, the blue sky dotted with white and gray fluffy clouds. To our right, a waterway suddenly opened up into a lake that stretched all the way to the horizon, its gentle waves sparkling in the sunlight. In the distant heavens, a bank of clouds slowly slid in front of the sun, dimming those sparkles, but then gradually the light refracted through the clouds into sunbeams, illuminating the entire lake with brilliant stripes of light. The sight was breathtaking, a moment in nature frozen for our pleasure.

The rocking of the car caused Tess to fall asleep, her head growing
heavy on my thigh. I pressed the mute button on the remote and turned my attention to the man across from me. He glanced at his watch and then settled back in his own seat, his expression solemn. With Tess conveniently asleep, Charles and I needed to talk about more serious concerns, that was for certain.

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that you got here in the nick of time,” he said, stroking his chin between two fingers. “Your grandparents’ old caretaker, Willy Pedreaux, is within days of his death.”

“Is he in the hospital?”

“No, he’s home with a private nurse. And his wife. The two of them are making him as comfortable as possible, considering. And they’ve had some help from a local hospice group. He should be able to remain there until the very end.”

I shuddered, wishing the man hadn’t chosen to die at home, in the house that I owned.

“So why does he need to see me?” I asked. “What is this all about?”

Charles looked at me, surprise evident on his face.

“Well, Miranda, I’m sure I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.”

Beautiful is the land, with its prairies and forests of fruit-trees;
Under the feet a garden of flowers, and the bluest of heavens
Bending above, and resting its dome on the walls of the forest.
They who dwell there have named it the Eden of Louisiana.

“I know far less than you do,” I said, trying not to sound irritated at the lawyer’s ignorance. “I only learned about the situation yesterday. My aunt showed me your letters and e-mails, and that’s it. We tried calling, but Mr. Pedreaux wouldn’t tell me anything on the phone. He insisted I come down, so here I am. End of story.”

Charles pursed his lips and let out a low whistle.

“Well, I tell you what, Willy wanted you here so bad he was willing to do almost anything to make it happen. I’ve never seen anyone so frantic. In the past few days, they’ve had to sedate him twice just to get him to calm down. As much as I’ve been pestering you to come, Willy’s nurse has been bugging me even more. One thing is for certain: Willy’s not going to go gently into that good night until he has had a chance to speak with you, face-to-face. I know you didn’t have to come, but it was kind of you, considering the situation.”

A flash of white caught my eye, and I turned in time to see a broad, beautiful bird lift up from the water and take flight.

“I would have come sooner if I had known,” I said. “Unfortunately, my aunt chose not to tell me about any of this until yesterday afternoon.” Afraid my voice sounded bitter, I looked at him and added, “I mean, she thought she was doing the right thing. We don’t—we kind of cut ties with Louisiana years ago. If she had her wish, things would have stayed that way.”

Charles spotted a loose thread on his cuff and gently tugged at it.

“Oh, I know. Janet and I go way back. She’s a lovely woman who cares for you deeply. I’m sure she thought she was acting in your best interests. If Willy hadn’t been so insistent, I would never have pressed the issue myself.”

I reached back to check the bobby pins in my hair, wondering if Charles had seen the letter Willy sent directly to AJ. Surely not, for if he had, he would have asked me about the symbol specifically.

“Let me ask you a question,” I said, reaching into my bag and pulling out the drawing of Jimmy Smith. “Do you know this man?”

I handed the picture to Charles and he studied it for a moment.

“No. Should I?”

“Not necessarily,” I replied, avoiding an explanation with another question. “How about this?” I asked, using a pen to draw the symbol on the top corner of the paper. “Have you ever seen this shape before? By any chance, do you know what it means?”

Charles took the paper from me and again studied it carefully. He didn’t recognize it, either, but rather than explain why I wanted to know, I simply folded the paper and tucked it back into my bag, saying that I had a lot of weird questions like that for Willy, silly things that had to do with my past and my family.

To change the subject, I asked about the dying man’s wife.

“Has she made any plans for what she’ll do after he dies?” I asked. “I hope she knows that’s she’s welcome to stay on at the house for as long as she needs. We’d never sell it out from under her.”

“That’s right kind of you, but trust me, Deena Pedreaux is counting the days until her husband is gone and she can start packing her bags. All she talks about is moving to the retirement community in Florida where
her sister lives. Frankly, it’s an embarrassment to behold when she does it in front of her husband. It’s downright cruel.”

“That’s just a coping mechanism,” I objected, thinking how hard it must be for her to watch the man she loves die. I might want to murder my husband sometimes, but I would never, ever wish him dead! “It must be very hard for her to cope.”

“Cope, schmope. Deena’s a real piece of work. A very bitter woman. She hates Twin Oaks and always has. She calls it the millstone around their necks.”

“But why?”

Charles shrugged.

“That much land, that much house, it’s a lot of work. Being given a life estate in such a massive place like that can be a mixed blessing. The electric bills alone are astronomical. Considering that the house is in the Louisiana Historical Registry, a certain level of care must be maintained. Willy has worked hard at it for many years. As the trustee, I’ve been in a difficult position as well, balancing the need to keep the house in good repair with the fact that it’s currently inhabited by a couple who doesn’t own it or pay rent to live there. I’m afraid since Katrina I’ve only done the minimum, just to keep things from getting worse. But you’ll see, it needs some work. A lot of work, actually, before you would want to put it on the market.”

Astronomical electric bills? The Louisiana Historical Registry? For the first time, I began to wonder if maybe I had been underestimating the size of my inheritance. I knew the house was large, but I had never gotten any real statistics on it, nor did I know how much acreage came with it. Somehow in my mind I had been picturing the ramshackle house from Green Acres reruns, tucked away on a couple of woodsy rural acres along the bayou.

“The place is…big?”

Charles just looked at me, a mixture of surprise and something else, something like pity, on his face. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

“You really don’t know anything about your old family home, do you, Miranda?”

For some reason, his question made me catch my breath. There it was again, though to a much less degree, that same surprising onslaught of emotion that I had experienced on the airplane when I realized we were getting ready to land. Tears filled my eyes, and with an embarrassed apology, Charles handed me some tissues from the console and then discreetly turned his head toward the window as I dabbed at my face and pulled myself together. I was glad it was just tears this time and not the racing heartbeat and the difficulty breathing I’d had on the plane. Still, I felt like an idiot.