French Quarter (20 page)

Seventeen

Shaving a thin strip of peel from an apple with a pocket knife, Cyrus sat on the top step. He waved a greeting with the hand that held the knife. “This is an art. Take the whole peel off in one strip. Remember Granddaddy Payne doin’ that, Celina?”

She saw amusement in her brother’s eyes, and some of the old deviltry that had so often put him on the wrong side of their parents when he’d been a boy.

Ignoring his question, she said, “How long have you been sitting there?”

“Long enough.”

Jack chuckled.

“Spying, Cyrus. You were spying on me.”

“No such thing, little sister. I was sittin’ here—just as large as life, and that’s pretty large—when you walked into that courtyard. Is it my fault if you were too preoccupied to look my way?”

“You should have gone inside.”

“Why?” His eyes, with their oddly hypnotic mixture of blue and green, crinkled at the corners. Celina was certain the ladies Cyrus ministered to in his little parish west of New Orleans spent more than the occasional moment thinking about those eyes. Cyrus continued. “I’ve seen people dance before. You look very good together.”

“Thank you,” Jack said in perfect command of himself. “Your peel broke.”

“Oh—fossilized fishhooks, so it did.”

Celina snorted and Jack tried, unsuccessfully, to hide a grin. “Cyrus,
fossilized fishhooks?”
Celina said.

He had the grace to look abashed. “An altar boy said that when he dropped a salver. I thought it was mighty inventive.”

“Don’t use it,” Celina suggested. “Why are you sitting out here anyway?”

“It’s nice. And our esteemed parents are within. They peeled my skin in many pieces, and I think they’re preparing to peel yours, sister dear.”

“I can’t face them now,” Celina murmured. She shouldn’t have wasted time indulging her fantasies with Jack. He’d think she was the kind of woman who liked sexual advances—which was probably exactly what he wanted to believe. The step to believing she had enticed Errol would be a simple one for him to take. “Jack, we do need a plan. Is it okay if I tell Cyrus what happened with Garth at St. Peter’s?”

“Surely.”

“Thank you. I need to go and deal with my parents first. I don’t seem to do anything that pleases them these days. Would it be all right if I called you later? We could talk on the phone.”

“I’d rather talk in person. I’ll come on in and get on with some paperwork while you visit. Then we’ll get together.”

She didn’t miss the emphasis he placed on the last sentence, but she wasn’t about to argue in front of Cyrus. “Okay. If you’re sure that’s what you want. Amelia isn’t waiting for you?”

“Amelia’s my daughter,” Jack told Cyrus. “She’s five and keeps me in line. Tilly’s taking her on the bus to visit her grandmother in Baton Rouge for the weekend, so I’m a bachelor till Sunday night.”

Cyrus regarded Jack silently.

“I lost my wife,” Jack said. “She died shortly after Amelia Elise was born. Elise was my wife’s name. Tilly looks after us.”

“God rest your wife’s soul,” Cyrus said. “And may He bless you. It isn’t easy to be a parent alone.” He looked from Jack to Celina, stood up, and went to the door. He held it open until the two of them went inside the house.

“Anything else from the police this afternoon?” Jack said when he was in the gloomy hall.

“Nothing since this mornin’,” Cyrus said. “I keep expectin’ them to be crawlin’ all over this place all the time, but it’s not happenin’, is it? They seem to be takin’ their time.”

“They told me they were finished with everything but Errol’s bedroom and bathroom,” Celina said. “They said the integrity of every other area was too compromised, whatever that means. I guess I know what they mean, but I’d still think they could spend more time checking.”

“Is that you, Celina?” Bitsy’s voice trilled from the direction of Errol’s parlor.

“What are they doing there?” Celina asked. “It makes me sad to go into the parlor. Errol loved it once I’d helped him redo everything. He said it made him feel warm, as if the sunshine came inside.”

“Oh, that old devil, sunshine,” Jack murmured, and Celina heated up yet again. “It uses its magic fingers to do all kinds of things. Have you noticed how a little sun can paint already beautiful things until they’re so lovely they almost make your eyes hurt, Cyrus?”

Bringing up the rear, Cyrus said, “The world is beautiful. I’m glad you’re a man who appreciates that. My sister is sensuous too. She reminds me of a cat. She almost stretches with pleasure when she’s excited by something.”

“Does she? Ι guess I’d expect that.” He left them and headed for the study.

Celina looked straight ahead and walked into the parlor she’d decorated in shades of yellow and gold with soft white walls that drew light to them. “Hello, Mama, Daddy. It’s great to see you. But what a surprise.”

“If you stayed in touch as you should, you’d never be surprised to see us—you’d expect it,” Bitsy said. “You’d visit all the time, the way a child ought to. You behaved badly at Wilson and Sally’s party. Withdrawn. Difficult. And leaving like that, almost without a word? That Charmain person hinted that there were secrets you weren’t sharing. And she hinted at other things that are just too embarrassin’, Celina. She’s got to be put in her place.”

“Mama,” Cyrus said, moving from behind Celina and going to his mother. He led her to the couch where his father sat, a large whiskey in hand, and sat her down. “You are overreacting. And you can’t expect Celina to spend her life catering to the whims of the Lamars. She owes them nothing as far as I know.”

“We’re very involved in their campaign, son,’’ Neville said, the faintest slur in his voice. “Your mother’s right. We’re a family. And families support each other. Celina can be a great help to us in difficult times, and she should want to do that.”

Celina couldn’t separate herself from the knowledge that although Jack had slipped past her in the dark hallway, he’d almost undoubtedly heard every word. “I do support you and Mama, Daddy,” she told him. “But I see no reason why I have to feel a responsibility toward the Lamars. They’re more than capable of making sure they get everything they want.”

“That’s exactly the kind of comment that shows how selfish you are, young lady,” Bitsy said. “After all I’ve done for you, all I’ve sacrificed for you, you won’t do the little things that would make our lives—your father’s and mine—easier. We aren’t gettin’ any younger. We need to feel more sure of our future. For that to happen, we’re forced to do things that are abhorrent to people of our social status. We need the money from the auctions, Celina. Surely you’re going to make certain we’re paid for the last ones we arranged. And what about more auctions? Whether you’re the one arranging them or not. Don’t tell me children stop wanting their little dreams to come true just because one man gets himself murdered.”

Celina covered her eyes and shook her head. “Please think before you speak, Mama. And try to consider someone other than yourself.”

“Celina.”
Bitsy loaded the word with horror. “How can you talk to your poor mother like that? We’re in danger of getting into trouble. I loathe mentiοnin’ the word, but I’m talkin’ about
money
troubles. That won’t help you, my girl. But you can put everything right. You hold the key. Make sure we continue to hold the auctions.”

“I’m not sure when or if there’ll be more auctions.” Celina detested voicing the truth, but covering up was pointless. “We have some people to convince first.”

“Talk to her about Wilson,” Neville said, upending his glass, and getting up to wend a wavery trail to the decanter for a refill. “He’s a good man, Celina, and he thinks the world of you just as he does of your mother and me. He wants to hire you. And he wants to pay you more money than I thought anyone got paid for these aide jobs.”

“Wilson Lamar wants me as an
aide?”
Her stomach turned. “What exactly does that mean?” The last time she’d seen Wilson he’d spoken of her taking over publicity. He wanted her under his control and he didn’t care what excuse he dreamed up.

Neville retraced his steps, placing his feet carefully, and gestured with his overfilled glass so that it dripped. “As in being his right hand. He’s got respect for your mind, girl, real respect. He wants you to travel with him as his aide during the real gearing-up of the campaign. And he wants you there at the house.”

“Oh, Celina, it’s perfect,” Bitsy said. “What were you trained to be but a beautiful, accomplished
impression?
That’s what Wilson wants, a beautiful impression to confront everyone who comes his way. You’re going to be the gateway to him. You’ll decide who comes in and who stays out. We will never want for another penny, I tell you. Oh, I am so excited. Think of all the parties. And then...Celina, then there’s Washington and...oh, it steals my breath away. It could be the White House eventually, couldn’t it? And with you at the President’s side.”

“I’d think it would be the first lady who would be at the President’s side,” Cyrus remarked mildly. “Or do you have plans about that too.”

“I don’t like what you seem to be suggestin’,” Bitsy said. “I’d have thought a priest would be more careful what he said to his mother. But you’ve never been careful, and the Church hasn’t made you any kinder.”

Celina felt tired. She’d noticed that by the afternoon of each day she began to wilt. Her parents were simply intensifying the process. “I know you’d like this to happen, but it won’t. I’m going to continue right here and try to help Jack keep Dreams going. Even though it will not be easy.”

Whiskey disappeared steadily down Neville’s throat. He paused for breath and blinked slowly, pointing a finger at Celina. “You’re going to do as you’re told this time. From what we’re hearin’, the sooner you put distance between yourself and anythin’ to do with Errol Petrie, the better. The auctions are somethin’ different. We can keep on doin’ them as long as you make the right arrangements before you leave.
Draw somethin’ up. A contract. Wilson will look it over and make sure it’s legal.”

Cyrus came to her side and put an arm around her shoulders. “Celina’s tired. This conversation will have to wait.”

“We have the most ungrateful children, Neville,” Bitsy whined. “Ungrateful and disrespectful. Celina, are there going to be more auctions?”

“I told you I don’t know.”

“We have to know.”

“Well, you can’t know for sure until I do.”

“It’s because of what they’re saying about Errol, isn’t it?” Bitsy said, chewing a fingernail. “What were you doing living in a house with a man like that? Alone with him?”

“Errol was a fine man. He’s been murdered, Mama. How can you malign the dead like this.”

Bitsy gestured airily. “Don’t give me that righteous act. The man was a sex addict. It’s all over town. And to think I was right there in the very bedroom where all that perversion had gone on. Oh, I shudder at the thought.” She gave a demonstration.

“An alcoholic,” Neville said, closing an eye in an effort to focus his vision. “Living alone with an alcoholic sex-addict. My God, if you’ve any reputation left, you’d better be grateful. It shows Wilson’s high regard for us that he’s prepared to overlook all that and take you on.”

Cyrus’s grip tightened. “Let it go,” he murmured to Celina. “What are
you whisperin’ about, Cyrus?” Bitsy said. “You don’t understand what we’ve been through because you chose to abandon us and save yourself. By the way, Sally Lamar wants to see you. She’s a very kind woman and she’s interested in the Church. She’d like you to help her explore her desire to become a Catholic. She’s been afraid to go to a church where she doesn’t know anyone. But she feels that with just the two of you alone, she’d wouldn’t feel embarrassed.”

Celina didn’t dare look at her brother. His grip tightened even more and he said, “I doubt I’ll be here long enough to be of much help to her.”

“Oh,” Bitsy exclaimed. “Our salvation is within our grasp if only you two would cooperate, but you’re too selfish.”

Cyrus cleared his throat. “If you need money, all you have to do is ask. I have some savings.”

Neville guffawed. “Thanks, son, but payin’ the paper boy isn’t going to help a whole lot.”

“I see,” Cyrus said quietly. “You need a great deal of money. How exactly would it help you if Celina and I agreed to whatever the Lamars want?”

The blustering noises Neville made didn’t make sense.

“He said he’d take care of us,” Bitsy said loudly. “There. Now you have it. The onus is on you. If you and Celina do what Wilson and Sally want you to do, we won’t have any money worries and we won’t be shamed in front of our friends. And before you ask again why they want you, it’s because you’re from a fine old family, and having you around impresses people.”

Celina put her arm around Cyrus’s waist. She felt sick. He must be remembering how Sally had chased him when they’d been in high school. He’d been too kind to turn her down when she invited him to the senior prom, but he’d come home early and would never discuss why.

“You mean Mrs. Lamar wants to
retain
me for some spiritual reason?” Cyrus asked. “And Wilson wants to employ Celina? And if you deliver us both to them, they’ll pay you a finder’s fee.”

“Oh, would you listen to him, Neville? He makes it sound so
tawdry.
Some of us have to be pragmatic, my boy. When Neville married me, he adopted you children. How many men would do that? We spent a fortune on you children when you were growing up. Your education. Your sister’s education and all the money it cost to support her pageant ambitions.”

“Scholarships are wonderful things,” Cyrus said. “And—”

“Mama, Daddy,” Celina interrupted Cyrus. Another moment and he’d be reminding Bitsy that it had never been Celina’s idea that she compete in beauty contests. “I’m going to ask you to try to relax and give me time to deal with what’s absolutely pressing now.”

“What’s absolutely pressin’ now is your obligation to your family and our needs,” Bitsy said. “Isn’t that right, Neville?”

“S’right. “