False Pretenses (6 page)

CHAPTER 5

Zoe locked the door to the apartment and went down the stairs. She passed the office and the customer restrooms in the alcove and walked out into the dining room at Zoe B’s. The hot pink sky was visible through the blinds where Father Sam, Tex, and Hebert sat at the table by the window.

Zoe picked up Tuesday’s edition of the
Les Barbes Ledger
from one of the empty tables and handed it to Hebert. “Have you seen this yet? Pierce said the news is mostly good.”

Hebert tore off a piece of beignet and popped it into his mouth. “Dats why I live here and not in New Awlins.” He opened the newspaper, and an envelope fell out on the table. “Oops. Dis is yours.”

Zoe’s heart sank. She saw her name typed on the front of the envelope. Was this another anonymous note? She pasted on a smile and snatched it from Hebert. “Thanks. Is everybody’s breakfast okay?”

The three men nodded in unison.

“That’s what I like to hear. I’ll tell Savannah you need more coffee.”

She walked into the kitchen and stood off to the side by the freezer. She tore open the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper with the same five words cut from a magazine and pasted on:
I know what you did.

She stared at the words, her mind racing in reverse. Was that possible? Certainly no one could prove it. Or could they? Why else would they go to all this trouble to make her squirm?

She heard Pierce talking to the kitchen staff and stuffed the note back in the envelope, then pushed open the swinging doors and nearly ran headlong into Savannah.

“There you are! The guys need coffee!”

Savannah’s nose twitched the way it did when she was annoyed. “I was just coming to get a fresh pot.”

I can’t believe I snapped at her.
Zoe sidestepped around Savannah and left the dining room. She ran upstairs and into the apartment, putting her back against the door. Her hand was shaking. What if she was wrong about the statute of limitations? What if she could still be prosecuted?

But even more was at stake than legalities. If the truth got out, Zoe B’s would be history. And so would her acceptance in the community. And what about her marriage? Was Pierce’s love for her solid enough to weather what would surely be perceived as betrayal?

She hurried into the bedroom and opened her lingerie drawer and put today’s note on the bottom with the other one. It was too soon to panic. She needed to stay calm and keep a clear head. Maybe the notes meant something else.

“You okay …? Zoe …?”

Zoe heard the voice but didn’t realize for a second where she was or who was talking.

She blinked and looked up into Pierce’s questioning eyes.

“You’ve been standing here at the stove for several minutes,” he said, “looking as if you’re in a daze. Is something wrong?”

“I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night. I skipped breakfast and shouldn’t have. I came to get something to eat.”

“You still bothered by your run-in with the new waitress yesterday?”

“I guess. I should probably go choose the uniforms before I change my mind.”

“Or go take a nap.”

Zoe raised an eyebrow. “I have to turn in the food order by four o’clock, or we’re going to run short. I’ll be fine. I just need a quick lunch and a cup of coffee.”

“Taste the gumbo, babe. It’s extraordinary today.”

“It’s always extraordinary.”

“Not like this.” Pierce flashed an uncharacteristically boyish grin, his face beaming. “I added an ingredient. Now it’s even better than Marie Nadeau’s. If I can duplicate this, and I’m pretty sure I can, I might surprise everyone and win the Gumbo Classic. That would sure be good for business.”

“And an incredible honor. So what’s the special ingredient?”

Pierce kept smiling and said nothing.

“You’re not going to tell me?”

He shook his head. “It’ll be more fun if you don’t know. And it’ll add to the intrigue if you get asked.” He took her hands in his. “Zoe, I think I finally nailed it. Come on, taste it.”

Had she ever seen him this confident before? This delighted with himself? He was almost giddy.

She took a tasting spoon out of the drawer, dipped it into the pot of simmering gumbo, and blew on it for a few seconds, then slowly sipped the gumbo and savored it. “Oh my … this is
amazing!”

“Then you can taste the difference?”

“Definitely. I can’t identify what it is, but it’s distinct. And wonderful. I think Marie Nadeau is about to be dethroned, and I’m not just saying that. This is the best gumbo I’ve ever tasted.”

Pierce picked her up off the ground and spun her around. “I’m so excited, babe. I always dreamed of being a chef, but winning the Gumbo Classic and getting to display the Copper Ladle on the wall—well, that would be more than I ever dreamed possible. But whether I win or not, thanks for believing in me. You always have, and it means everything. You, Madame Broussard, are the other half of my heart. You know that, right?”

She did know that. And it worked both ways. Each had so much invested in the other. What if her deception had put all that in jeopardy?

“You know I feel the same. You’ve always been there for me, too.”
Always.

God, I know what I did was wrong, but I had to keep it from Pierce. Please don’t let him find out. It’ll break his heart.

Vanessa parked her Honda Odyssey in front of Langley Manor and rolled down the windows, taking in the humid summer breeze thick with a sweet fragrance she had noticed before but couldn’t identify. Glints of sunlight filtered through a basket weave of live oak branches. And somewhere in the forest the jackhammer-like sound of a busy woodpecker echoed off the trees.

It was peaceful out here—so peaceful it seemed almost ridiculous to believe that a strange man had gotten into the house uninvited. Or that a sole lemon drop should be sufficient grounds for a sheriff’s investigation. Could Carter have imagined the man in the closet? It was certainly possible, but she had no intention of going inside the house by herself.

The mansion’s stately pillars were stained with two decades of mildew, but it wasn’t hard to envision how magnificent this family heirloom would be after it was washed down with bleach and given a fresh coat of white paint. How much more difficult would the refurbishing task be if Ethan’s great-grandparents hadn’t replaced the columns or the exterior wood? Or if Ethan’s dad and uncles hadn’t seen to it that the exterminators came out four times a year, even when the house sat empty? Replacing the roof would be the easiest task, remodeling the interior the most creative.

Vanessa sighed. With so much to look forward to, why was she longing for Sophie Trace and the tree-covered foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains? Was it the absence of family and close friends that weighed heavily on her this morning? Or was it that she had nothing to do while Carter was in preschool two days a week? She missed teaching first grade, but it was impractical for her to go back to it with this renovation about to start. Ethan was counting on her to juggle the details and oversee the process, and she was eager to do it. So why was she feeling this way?

Vanessa folded her hands on the steering wheel and rested her chin on them. Perhaps it was because she felt like an outsider here. As nice as Pierce and Zoe were, they and the entire Cajun community in Les Barbes were a family unto themselves. Could she and Ethan ever hope to be regarded as anything other than descendants of the British Langleys, who had looked down their noses at the Cajuns?

She could still see the indignant expression on Pierce’s face when he spoke of how the British had abused the Acadians. In spite of his apology, hadn’t his offensive posture revealed his resentment? What would it take to reverse his unfounded core belief that no person of British descent was worthy of his trust?

Vanessa wiped the perspiration off her upper lip, finally realizing how hot it was getting outside. She suspected that Zoe agreed with Pierce but was too polite to admit it. If she and Ethan were ever going to belong here, they had to make sure they weren’t permanently labeled.

A twig snapped. Her pulse quickened. She moved her gaze across the weed-covered grounds and glanced in the rearview mirror.

“Hello?” she heard herself say. “Is somebody out there …? Hello …?”

Suddenly everything was still, even the breeze.

Vanessa started the car and quickly rolled up the windows, making sure the doors were locked. A chill scurried up her spine. She scanned the trees along the forest’s edge. Was the intruder out there? Was he watching her?

Zoe walked out of the dining room at Zoe B’s and into the alcove, holding tightly to the weekly food order she needed to call in. She unlocked the door to the office, flipped the light switch, and let the door close behind her. On the floor was an envelope with her name typed on the front. Her heart sank.

She stared at it for a moment, her pulse racing, then reached down and picked it up. Who had pushed it under the door? Why hadn’t she paid more attention to the people coming into the eatery?

She grabbed the letter opener, slit the envelope, then pulled out a sheet of white paper, on which the same five words had been cut and pasted:
I know what you did.

She slid down into the desk chair, filled with dread, her thoughts racing back ten years—to the scheme she had devised so she could get out on her own and support herself. She had executed each step with great care and without anyone realizing what she was up to. Or so she thought. Why would someone wait an entire decade before coming forward? Was it to extort money from her? Was she willing to get caught in that trap? And what if this person knew the truth about her family?

She looked up at the framed photo of Pierce and her, enjoying the dance floor at their wedding reception. Nobody seemed hung up that none of the bride’s relatives were there. All that mattered was that Pierce loved her and she was now a Broussard. How could anyone know what taking his name meant to her? Any children born to them would have a Cajun heritage with strong family ties, free from the shame she left in Devon Springs and without any knowledge of it.

Zoe tucked the note in her blouse and ran the envelope through the paper shredder. No way was she going to be the victim in this. She knew how to diffuse this situation before it had the power to undo everything she held dear. Did she have the courage? It was risky. But if it worked, whoever was sending these notes couldn’t hold the past over her head.