Butterflies in Heat (55 page)

"Wait till you see our new car," Ned said enthusiastically. "You'll shi... love it!"

On wobbly legs, a reluctant Amelia was helped along to the baggage claim area—Lola Le Blanc on one arm, Ned on the other.

"I need a slight libation from time to time to steady my nerves," Amelia said, reaching for a martini the waitress was placing on their table. "Never flown on an airplane before, a harrowing experience, let me tell you." She glanced apprehensively around the room. "Think
I'll
take the train back home."

"Then you're going back?" Lola asked, practically swishing her tail in the plastic chair. In fact, the way she felt right now she'd gladly finance Amelia's bon voyage party to Siberia.

"By all means," Amelia said firmly. An ominous sound came into her voice. "After some business matters have been settled."

Lola's heart dropped.

The robin's egg blue suit she'd bought for Ned was clearly visible from across the air terminal bar. He was returning after a trip to the men's room.

Amelia kept digging her thumb into the aching muscle of her stiff neck. "I haven't had a decent night's sleep since losing my dear brother. Isn't
it
about time to end the little joke on me? I'm in no mood for humor."

Slurping his drink as he joined them, Ned said, "I don't see nothing funny."

Lola glanced at her long nail on the finger holding the Old Mine diamond. Some of the red polish had flaked off. That upset her so much she forgot what she was going to say. Then, remembering, she said to Ned, "I think our guest means me. That is, my going right up to her and introducing myself as Mrs. Le Blanc."

"Exactly," Amelia concurred, her patrician nostrils raised and twitching.

"That, my dear child," Lola said "was and is no laughing matter." Her eyes swept the room like a tornado, and her hand with the diamond waved the air.

"Are you trying to ruin the reputation of the Le Blanc family?" Amelia asked. That martini glass was at her tight mouth once again, except this time she spilled some on her dress.

As
if
to show Amelia up, Lola reached for her rum drink, daintily and with precision of movement. She was deliberately postponing answering Amelia's question just to show that grand southern lady that she, Lola
La
Mour Le Blanc, had nothing to fear from her. Except she did. Plenty. However, that was one little goodie Lola wasn't about to give away. After what she deemed a respectable amount of time, she decided to respond to the question at hand. "Being the lady I am, I will choose to ignore that last remark. The plane has probably messed up your mind, and you don't really know what you're saying."

"I know perfectly well what I'm saying," Amelia protested. "Not a soul back home—not a soul, do you hear me?—must know my late brother married a woman of the colored persuasion."

"Persuasion," Ned said derisively. "Honey, we ain't just persuaded. Like we didn't go around picking out colors. Make mine sunflower yellow. As for you, you'd look great in chocolate marshmallow."

Lola shot Ned a look that silenced him. She caught her breath and started to feel more at ease. Getting around Amelia was going to be just a little bit easier than she'd feared. Amelia was not the canny fox her brother had been. "I was married," Lola said emphatically. "Witnesses to prove it—not to mention the most spectacular wedding gown ever." She fingered her ring. "Still the talk of the town."

"Surely the marriage was conducted in the strictest of privacy?" Amelia inquired. Sitting up tall and erect, she moved her neck as if to catch a breath of fresh air.

"We even got our pictures in the newspapers," Lola lied, enjoying Amelia's discomfort.

"My God," Amelia exclaimed, sinking back into the chair. "I don't know how I'll manage to show my face in Tortuga. Sounds like a Godforsaken place anyway."

Lola flashed a satanic grin.
If
she had anything to do about it, Amelia would never have to get one lilywhite toe stuck in the slime of Tortuga.

"If
my brother," she said, casting a disdainful eye at Lola, "was going around marrying up with colored women, now I know why he wanted to leave New Orleans." She put her hand to her brooch-covered chest. "Marrying that Cajun gal was wicked enough. People back home talk about it so much I can't walk out my front door."

Pain exploded inside Lola. She stared fixedly at Amelia. She knew she wasn't exactly getting virgin purity when she married up with the commodore, but she didn't know anything about any Cajun gal. The whole idea of marrying a man who'd wed a Cajun sounded low class to her.

"My poor sister, bless her soul—she's dead now," Amelia said, "just couldn't understand it either." Her eyes zeroed in on the Old Mine diamond. "Thank God she didn't live to see this day." She paused, as if she suddenly wanted to take flight. "Could the waitress be persuaded to bring me another slight libation? My heart is palpitating at such a dangerous rate I think I'd better slow it
down—or
else
I'll
pass out right in front of everybody. "

At this moment, Lola was thinking how convenient that would be for her. She'd be only too happy to pay for another pauper's coffin if it meant getting rid of Amelia for good. A sister-in-law she wasn't interested in. Nevertheless, Lola's fingers snapped the air to gain the attention of the waitress. The snap resounded throughout the bar, attracting much notice.

"You don't have to snap your fingers that loud," Amelia whispered. "Everybody's looking. After all, we aren't at a hog calling contest."

Normally, Lola would have kicked up her heels at that offense. But she decided to go easy with Amelia. It'd all work out better in the long run if she'd play it this way. Lola kept telling herself.

"I understand my brother—in a moment of total insanity, I have no doubt—bequeathed to you his entire estate," Amelia said, moving in on the subject on everybody's mind since the plane landed. "Forgetting his sister who has a house with a mortgage and no means of support." She coughed. "Who's too
ill
to work."

The shrillness in Amelia's voice sent shivers through Lola. "Your information is correct—that is, the part about his bequeathing his entire estate, every penny, to me, his legal wife." She gazed at the diamond again. "I can hardly consider that a moment of total insanity. Many men leave property to their wives. In fact, I understand it's the usual procedure."

"That's for the courts to decide," Amelia said.

"The courts?" Lola asked nervously. Then she sank back, as Amelia had done, and slowly assumed her mask of calmness.

"You heard what I said," Amelia answered. "I intend to contest the will, even
if
I have to keep it in the courts forever."

Lola reached for her purse, fumbling for a cigarette. Amelia, she realized, was a little smarter than she had thought at first. With a fierce grimace, Lola turned away. Then she stabbed the air with her cigarette, as if to emphasize a point. Only she realized she'd set the stage for a devastating rejoinder, but had absolutely no counterattack. The cigarette holder fell to the floor. Ned reached to retrieve it, giving Lola more time. "You know what you're getting at?" Lola asked. "According to your little plan, each of us might end up with nothing—not even enough to take care of basic needs."

"My goodness," Amelia said, smiling, her eyes dancing. "At least my brother married a woman smart enough to comprehend business."

Amelia's charade was over. Lola now knew she was just as foxy as her brother. But she liked that. Any dude or chick willing to bargain, Lola could handle. It was those puritanical bastards who couldn't be bribed—those were the ones to hate. Fortunately, she'd never run into too many of that kind.
"I'm like you,
Sister
Amelia," Lola said. "I feel a deep-in-the-stomach need for some slight libations myself." The waitress placed the martini on the table. "Another rum and Coke for me, and a Scotch for Ned. Might as well start getting another martini ready for Sister Amelia here." She let out a hoot. "Bout time we let the cows out to start grazing in the pasture."

The office of the commodore's attorney was on the first floor of a tile-roofed building in the Spanish section of town. In the Andalusian-styled lobby, Lola paused briefly, looking back at Ned helping Amelia along. Then, assured of her appearance in a gilt-framed mirror, she hurried passed the high-backed, dark wood chairs and a sagging, threadbare tapestry.

Milton Goldenburg's office extended the Old Spanish look, with its carved armchair placed behind an imposing heavy desk. In the nearly dark office, an art nouveau lamp cast a forgiving light.

"Miss La Mour," Goldenburg said. "So good to see you."

"It's Mrs. Le Blanc," Lola corrected. "I'm married, remember?"

"How could I ever forget?" Goldenburg asked, more amused than embarrassed. Taking her hand, he seated her on a deep green velour sofa.

After introductions, Ned and Amelia were shown to matching overstuffed armchairs. After everybody settled, there was a momentary silence. Lola surveyed tapestry scenes of Granada and Seville, hanging from wrought-iron spears. On the opposite wall was an impressive collection of floor-to-ceiling law books. "That's a lot of books," she said. "You read them all?"

"No, not even half of them," Goldenburg said. "But they are there, nevertheless, in case any peculiar circumstances might arise."

"Like today," Amelia said, sitting up stiffly. Her eyes were martini-glazed.

Ned shifted uneasily in his chair.

Reaching into her purse, Lola took out a magnifying mirror to adjust a false eyelash. "There's not too much light in this room."

"Enough," Amelia added as Goldenburg started to raise the venetian blinds onto a small patio with a waterless fountain. Hand fluttering at her long throat, Amelia said, "Sure is a hot day—but then I'm used to heat." Her last word carried some ominous threat.

Goldenburg buzzed his secretary. A short, stocky woman entered the room. "Get these people something to drink," he ordered. "You name it—we're stocked with it."

As the second round of drinks was being served, Lola got up and started to prance the floor. "Before we arrived here today, Sister Amelia and I got some tentative agreement worked out." She put her hands on her hips. Fortunately, Ned and I got up there to save her from the clutches of those two child-molesting dykes, Joan and De la Mer." She patted Amelia on the shoulder. "Now Sister Amelia had never heard the word dyke before, but when I explained the gory details, she got the picture perfect. Why, I saw that De la Mer with my own eyes letching after this poor gal named Dinah." She glared at Ned, daring him to interrupt her story. "Dinah's only thirteen, a perfect innocent till she started running around with the wrong company."

Ned squirmed in his seat.

"What is your agreement?" Goldenburg asked.

"You can do the fancy papers and stuff," Lola said. "Sister Amelia has decided not to contest the will. All the bad publicity and all." She inspected her wedding diamond. "Seems that a lot of people in her family and their friends don't take too favorably to the commodore marrying up with a black lady. Also, she ain't got a lot of money to keep you expensive lawyers in tapestries."

"So tell me," Goldenburg asked impatiently.

"I'm going to get half the proceeds from the Garden of Delights," Amelia interrupted. "I've been led to understand that that comes to thirty thousand dollars a year. That will certainly payoff my mortgage."