A Trashy Affair (34 page)

The phone rang. Merlin, making them tomato soup and toasted cheese sandwiches in the kitchen, picked it up. Not merely a junk call, someone engaged him in conversation, probably his granny or mother. Good. She needed a minute to accept her discovery. In fact, she needed some air. She went quietly out the front door and inhaled the cold dampness of January. The purple and gold pansies in their bed flourished despite the weather. Walking to her mailbox, she picked up its contents and took the
Chapelle Clarion
from its slot. She ran her eyes down the headlines on the way back.
Recycling to be restored.
Jane dashed to share the news with Merlin.

She found him in her office staring at the evidence of his birth, the folded piece of newspaper directly under his family’s photograph. His face appeared pale beneath his stubble, and his eyes bleak as a winter’s day.

“You know,” he said.

Jane nodded. “I figured it out by the resemblance just as you must have. I should have seen it sooner.”

“My family made sure we weren’t seen together. I went to public school, his sons to private. I get a chance at the local college. His boys attend Tulane. Best of all I go off to war where I have a good chance of getting killed and ending the problem of my existence altogether. You want to give that ring back now that you know I’m the son of a man we both despise?”

“Never crossed my mind. You are more Tauzin than you ever will be Freeman.”

“Before you decide, you might want to hear the rest. My grandparents were the salt of the earth. Mom can’t help how she is, and even Harley has his better points. Doyle is a good guy, but Brittney is out of control. That was her on the phone. She’s pregnant again. This time she wants me to confront the father and get her a better deal. She figures he’ll be afraid of me.”

“The same man? Please, not Bernie.” Jane put a hand on his arm, steadying them both.

“Nope, thank God for small favors. She says she probably caught that night we were at Broussard’s Barn by giving Waldo Robin a pity fuck after I beat him up. See, he wasn’t after my mother at all. He thought she was Brittney.”

“Is he Jayden’s father, too?”

“Yep, so she tells me now. What a sucker. Even at sixteen Brittney knew how to manipulate men. Waldo was still married to his second wife who was looking for a way out of that prenup that would take him for a bundle. My sister, a high school girl and pregnant, could have given her all the ammunition she needed. He paid up to keep Brittney quiet. She claims he let her alone until I punched him out, so it’s my fault he took comfort in her arms again. Yeah, right. He just wanted to screw my little sister for some revenge.”

“You don’t know that. Even Waldo has feelings, deeply buried, but still there.”

“Sure you still want to be part of my family? Can your kin endure a scandal?”

“It’s not up to them, but I did tell them about your origins as far as I knew at the time. My mother thinks you should bring the man to justice who took advantage of your mother. My dad says the fellow should be roped, tied, bobbed, and branded for what he did to Jenny.”

Merlin nodded, and Jane thought she noticed a smile trying to get out on the edge of lips. “I like that last idea and appreciate your mother’s viewpoint. Neither will happen at this late date. I think your mom in a mellower moment might say to let karma take care of Bernie. So, you’re still willing to marry me?”

Jane cupped his long jaw in her hands and stroked with her thumbs. His eyes closed like those of a contented tom cat. She put her lips on his and when she finished the kiss, said, “I will. Now, how is that lunch coming, my gourmet chef?”

“The sandwiches are slightly burnt on one side, little chickadee. I forgot to turn them when Brittney called. After we eat, I’m going to see Waldo and let him know money won’t buy him out this time. Not what Brittney wants from me, but I really don’t give a damn.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No need.”

“Just in case you forget to use your words, Merlin.”

He shrugged. “I have my temper under control—pretty much, but your presence would be appreciated. Welcome to the Tauzin family.”

“Oh, I nearly forgot. At last night’s council meeting, Bernard Freeman moved in favor of restoring recycling and got the rest to agree. They are putting the bids out now. He claims my letter convinced him to change his mind, but I am beginning to see how you might have worked your magic.”

Merlin grinned in a rather predatory way. “I may have more of Bernie in me than I’d like. Keep the secret quiet. Exposure is a terrible thing for magicians and politicians both.”

****

Directly after dining on tomato soup and slightly burnt cheese sandwiches, they drove to Duchamp’s Funeral Home, Waldo Robin, Director. Fortunately, the undertaker was unoccupied with either embalming or conducting a funeral. Exuding a sympathetic air, he showed them into his office where the wall shelves displayed the best in crematory urns. A large bouquet of white lilies in a remarkably similar vase graced his impressive black desk. In the background, Waldo’s mix of inspirational music played softly recalling to Jane’s mind their single disastrous date. The bruises from his brawl with Merlin had healed, though Waldo’s long nose possessed a new bump. Jane thought it gave a little interest to his gloomy face.

The undertaker beckoned them to comfortable chairs, folded his cold hands together, and said, “First, let me congratulate the two of you on your engagement. I read the notice in the Sunday
Clarion.
Interesting pose with those apple blossoms in the background. I assure you both had I known of your deep relationship I would never have asked Jane out. Peace.”

Waldo offered his hand to Merlin who kept his resting on his knees. “Well, then how may I be of service? Has your grandmother passed, Mr. Tauzin? So many of the elderly do in January, pneumonia carries them off.”

“My granny says she’d rather be picked apart by crows than have your cold hands on her body when she goes.” Hostility radiated from Merlin in waves.

Jane clutched his hand in case he decided to launch himself over the desk at Waldo. She dove into the conversation quickly. “Miss Olive is in good health, but Brittney is pregnant.”

Waldo’s pale face became absolutely ghostly in its pallor. “I see. Congratulations to her and the lucky father, a very attractive girl, your sister. But I don’t see how this concerns me. I have to pick up a body at the clinic in an hour.” He stood, hoping they would do the same.

The couple stayed put. Merlin’s accusation came out deep and rough. “She says you are the father—again.”

Waldo opened his mouth. They expected a denial to waft out like ectoplasm, but instead the funeral director said, “Same deal as last time, then. You can’t say I haven’t provided for the boy.”

“Nope, that won’t do. Last time I wasn’t around to stand up for my sister. Considering the circumstances of my own birth, I spent some time reading up on the statute of limitations on statutory rape. Four years ago, Brittney was sixteen. I think we still have a window to prosecute—unless say, you’d want to marry her.” Merlin’s blue stare caught Waldo like a rabbit about to be carried off by an eagle. Even rabbits scream when trapped.

“Brittney is far too young for me! People would talk. I could be ruined.”

“No more ruined than you would be by a jail sentence, and the scandal won’t last as long.”

Jane made a suggestion. “Why don’t you elope before the cause becomes obvious? I think Brittney is the kind of girl who would love a trip to Vegas and a nice diamond ring.”

“She would,” Merlin agreed, suddenly amiable. “But my sister wouldn’t want to live over a funeral parlor. She’d expect a nice house, her own car, private school for the kids. You might have noticed Brittney isn’t as dumb as people suppose. In fact, she’s fairly clever. She might be an asset to your business if you spruce her up a little.”

Standing stiffly, his hands crossed protectively over his crotch, Waldo said, “I doubt she would accept me as a husband. Her motive seemed to be primarily money last time.”

“You weren’t free to marry last time. You go on and offer her those incentives. See what she has to say. Do it today, maybe right after you pick up that corpse.” Merlin stood and offered to shake on it, but the man’s hands continued to guard his privates.

He settled for saying, “Welcome to the family, brother. We’ll show ourselves out.” Merlin helped Jane from her chair, and tucking her arm under his, left Duchamp’s Funeral Home a satisfied man.

“Awesome,” Jane said. “You really should run for public office. Merlin Tauzin is quite the wheeler-dealer.”

“I’d hate to think I inherited that skill from Bernie.”

“Who will be running for parish president, leaving his council seat open. You should think about it.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

The letter arrived when Merlin was flying offshore. Jane held her breath and opened the fat envelope from the unemployment office. She skimmed through the legalese to the decision. She won her appeal! A check for three-thousand dollars in back payments would be forthcoming and after that a regular stipend for the next six months, providing she continued to seek employment during that time. Ms. Leger noted that Jane Marshall had done no intentional harm to her employer in any way. All other accusations remained unsupported by hard evidence.

Now, she would meet her next car payment with no problem and be able to pay Merlin half the house note. She might take the time to set up an environmental consulting business and contact possible clients. Best of all, she could laugh in Nadia Nixon’s broad, brutal face. Call Merlin right now! No, he might be flying. This had to be shared immediately with her mother, though that carried a certain hazard. Kathleen wanted to talk wedding plans every time they connected.

Regardless, Jane called the number in Bozeman and got the greeting, “So, have you decided whether you want a horse and carriage to take you from the service to the reception?”

“No horse and carriage.”

“But they are environmentally friendly you have to admit.”

“Yes, they are—but, Mom, I won my appeal against Nadia—I mean the parish government!”

“With my coaching, I knew you would. No surprise there. Can I tell your grandmother we are definitely going with the wedding in the apple orchard when the flowers bloom and not some stuffy, old church? What do you think about a sunrise service and then an English wedding breakfast to follow like the ones in Regency novels?”

“Yes to the orchard, no to sunrise, too early. Maybe a nice brunch. I only want immediate family to attend. You know how I feel about gobs of money being wasted on fancy weddings when it could go to more important causes. In fact, tell people no gifts. They should make a donation to a charity of their choice.”

Jane imagined her mother punching the air as Kathleen replied, “Yes, you are truly my daughter. Now, a minister, a justice of the peace, or a Wiccan priestess? I know a woman who does a very meaningful uniting of the male and female elements of nature.”

Much as she hated bursting Kathleen’s bubble, Jane replied, “Justice of the peace. You know Merlin’s people are Catholic. The Wiccan would freak them out.”

Her mother sighed. “Yes, you have been raised much more liberally than most. We have to make allowances for more narrow viewpoints.”

“Mom, aren’t you excited that I won?”

“Of course, dear. But you won’t need the money for long. Really, you struck a blow for all working women against the establishment—and I rejoice that you stuck it to that bitch, Nadia, even more. Now when do we get together to go wedding dress shopping?”

“I’ll find something down here. Don’t worry about it. I do plan to continue working after my marriage, you know. Merlin shouldn’t have to support me.”

“Naturally. I mean I have every faith that you will find a new job soon. So much to plan if we are going to bring off this wedding by apple blossom time. We’ll talk again soon, love.” And Kathleen Marshall hung up.

Jane put the phone back in its bracket. It rang immediately. Probably her mother asking if she intended to be married in bare feet, mostly to annoy her grandmother. No, the caller ID indicated the parish council office. Had Nadia phoned to congratulate her, no hard feelings? Unlikely. She imagined with some glee Nadia’s big, square teeth gnashing together in anger and frustration.

“Hello?”

“Wofford Langlois here, Jane.” The parish president’s voice sounded stronger and more sure of itself than at any time since Nadia Nixon had been forced on him as his Chief Administrative Officer. “I wanted to let you know we’re opening the bids for the recycling contract in three weeks. We want you to be there in your old capacity of environmental project manager.”

“You’re offering me my former position?”

“Yes, indeed!”

Jane imagined Woof’s hand giving her a genial high five by the tone of his voice. This is what she’d wanted: recycling restored, her old job back—but not so much anymore.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m in the midst of setting up a consulting business and planning my wedding. I’m not sure I want to return.”

“We heard from the EPA. They are putting that abandoned oil well site on the National Priorities List, thanks to your work. Looks like they will want us to handle it locally since it is a relatively small cleanup. We need you to oversee the project. How about a five-thousand-dollar raise and a corner office?”

“Nadia’s office? You may not realize yet that I won my appeal for unemployment payments. Miss Nixon won’t take that news well. I really don’t think I can work with her anymore, let alone share the same space no matter now roomy. I’ll have to say no, but I am so glad you are bringing back recycling.”

“Your ardent letter stirred the public and changed some minds on the council. Come back and take credit for your hard work. As for sharing the office, Nadia Nixon is no longer employed here.”

Jane’s feet wanted to do the happy dance around her desk. She tried to keep the satisfaction out of her voice when she asked, “Really? Did she take another job elsewhere?”

“I fired her. Ever since the council forced that woman on me, I’ve felt like my balls were in a vise, pardon my French. Always threatening, always saying she’d take matters to the council if I didn’t agree with her methods of making the office more efficient. Bernie Freeman forced her on me, but as soon as I announced I wasn’t running again, he didn’t need her anymore. What she made me do to May—and you. I told the council over and over, all I needed was a competent secretary and a good receptionist, none of this expensive CAO business.”