Legacy of Love (2 page)

“Well, come on. Your thirtieth birthday is in three months. Nana said—”

“Don't! Don't start. Okay.” She rolled her eyes and looked away.

Sharlene leaned across the table. “What if it's true?” she said in a low whisper. “Wouldn't that be too fabulous and romantic?”

The waitress appeared with their lunch. When Zoe glanced up to thank her, she caught a glimpse in the corner of her eye of the broad back of a man who was walking out the front door. Blood rushed to her temples. She jumped, knocking over the glass of water on the table. In the moments of confusion and apologies, Zoe lost sight of him.

“What in the world is the matter with you?” Sharlene asked, checking around for any more puddles of water on the table.

“I…I thought I saw him.” She shook her head. “I'm sorry. Exhaustion is getting the better of me.”

Sharlene dabbed at the last bit of water. “You saw him?” she asked with a look of confusion.

Zoe waved her hand. “Forget it. Let's eat.”

Sharlene studied the faraway look in Zoe's eyes and believed more than ever that the Beaumont legacy was real and her friend was simply unwilling to admit it.

J
ackson Treme continued on his walk back to his car with his bag of fried chicken and waffles, completely unaware of how his tall, lean figure cut a sharp outline against the busy downtown landscape, or how many admiring women's eyes took second looks as he passed. His thoughts were elsewhere.

He'd had the strangest sensation while he was waiting on his take-out order, a kind of energy that seemed to suddenly flow through his body. He felt strong, almost invincible. Inwardly he chuckled. How crazy was that? It was probably from inhaling the spicy aroma of the food that had his senses on high alert.

He stopped in front of his car. A soft, very
fem inine scent wafted by him. He turned, looked left then right. Nothing. He released a long breath. These odd feelings that he'd been experiencing had begun a few weeks ago.

At first he thought it was simply the stress of moving from New Orleans to Atlanta, finding a house and taking on a new job. But he'd never been one to be thrown off balance by stress.

He opened the car door and got in, shut the door behind him and stuck the key in the ignition. Just as he looked up, in the distance, he spotted two women emerging from the restaurant. The car suddenly filled with the same heavenly scent. That feeling of power flowed through his body. He turned the key in the ignition, but his main focus was seeing
her
face. The car sputtered and shut off.
What the
… He turned the key again, gave it some gas. The engine whined and shut off. Without thinking, he hopped out of the car and jogged down the block. By the time he reached the corner they were nowhere in sight. His broad shoulders slumped. He stood on the corner like a lost tourist as passersby walked around him. Realizing how ridiculous he was behaving, he finally walked back to his car and slid behind the wheel. He turned the key and the car hummed to life.

 

“I've been thinking of taking a quick trip home,” Zoe was saying as they walked into Pinkberry's frozen yogurt parlor.

Sharlene got in line behind Zoe. “Flying or driving?”

Zoe glanced over her shoulder. “Why?” she asked with a grin.

“You know I'm always up for a road trip.”

Zoe twisted her lips in feigned contemplation. “Okay, road trip. Can you take Friday off?”

“Of course, my sister. That is the joy of owning your own business.” She grinned broadly, exposing the teasing gap between her pearly white front teeth.

“If we leave by six we can be there by one.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“How can I help you?” the young woman behind the counter asked.

“Two large mangos, to go,” Zoe said and took out her Pinkberry purchase card to be stamped. The frozen yogurt place was Zoe and Sharlene's guilty pleasure. They'd bought enough frozen yogurt to own stock in the company.

“Why do we love this stuff so much?” Sharlene cooed as she took her first lick.

“I have no idea.” Zoe swallowed the naturally sweet treat and sighed in delight.

They pushed through the doors and back out into the afternoon.

“I'm going to head back,” Zoe said and kissed Sharlene's cheek.

“I need to make a stop first. Talk to you later.”

They waved and headed off in opposite directions.

 

Zoe returned to the museum and was pleased to find that foot traffic had picked up in her absence. Museums were struggling all over the country and were usually the first institutions to feel the cuts in grants and sponsorship. Part of her role was to seek out funding; the funding that not only helped to pay staff but covered the costs of installing new works and putting up shows.

At times it was difficult. But the High Museum was more fortunate than most, and at least for now she could continue to look for those rare pieces that would attract crowds.

She crossed the expanse of the main exhibit floor, took the first right turn and walked down the empty corridor that echoed her footsteps to her office at the end of the hallway. If she was planning to take off on Friday, she needed to make sure that everything was in order. Even though Mike was more than capable of handling any problems in her absence, she'd rather not leave anything to chance. As she was settling down behind her desk, her body suddenly grew warm and a heady, manly scent drifted under her nose. Her heart thumped in her chest. She felt light-headed as if she'd stood up too quickly.

“Hey, how was lunch?”

Zoe blinked, gripped the armrests of her chair and forced herself to focus.

Mike stepped in. A frown drew a line between his brows. “You, okay? You looked frightened.”

Zoe swallowed and ran her tongue across her dry lips. “Yeah, I'm fine.” She made herself smile. “Frightened?” She sputtered a laugh and turned on her computer. “Of what, you?” she teased.

Mike checked her out for a moment more. “Yeah, okay.” He shrugged. “I signed off on the schedule for next week and Linda has a problem with it. Linda always has a problem. If it's not the schedule, it's taking inventory or whatever it is she's supposed to be doing. If I say something to her to then I'm a bully. So maybe you want to talk to her. If it were up to me, she'd be pounding the pavement.”

He leaned against the door frame, looking too enticing for words.

Zoe cleared her throat. She knew Linda's real motive. Linda had a thing for Mike and rather than be upfront about it, she used her energy to give him a hard time. Very junior high school as far as Zoe was concerned, but it wasn't her place to say anything to Mike about Linda. But her behavior was affecting her work, and that was a problem. “I'll have a talk with her before I leave. And speaking of leaving, I'm taking Friday off. I'm driving down to see my family.”

“Cool. For how long?”

“Just the weekend. I'll be back on Monday. Sharlene is going with me.”

Mike nodded. He pushed away from the door. “Please talk to your girl.”

“I will. I promise.”

“See you later.” He turned and walked away.

Zoe folded her hands on top of her desk.
Could it be Mike?
she wondered. She shook her head. Now she was starting to think like her crazy family and her even crazier best friend. But as much as she tried, it was getting harder to ignore the feelings.

 

Jackson returned to his two-bedroom town house following his early evening run and went straight to the living room to turn on his 52-inch flat-screen television. It was his biggest purchase since moving into his new space. How many mornings had he awakened on the used leather couch, having fallen asleep in front of the flat screen?

There was a time falling asleep on the couch would have never happened. Instead of being eager to settle down in front of the television with a stack of papers to grade, he would look forward to undressing Carla and loving every inch of her body.

He pointed the remote at the television, kicked off his sneakers and stretched out on the couch. Carla was in his rearview mirror. It had been more than two years since they'd seen or spoken to each other. “It was him, not her,” he'd said to the woman he'd thought he would marry. He'd tried to explain, to erase the look of hurt and disbelief from her eyes. The truth was he couldn't explain it to himself.

In the months leading up to their breakup, he'd felt himself pulling away from Carla as if drawn by some unseen force—the same force that brought him to Atlanta. The same force that filled his dreams at night, clouded his thoughts during the day and the scent that wafted under his nostrils when he least expected it. Like today.

He surfed through the channels and finally settled on MSNBC. He was still bummed by the changing lineup, but it was still one of the best cable news channels on the air. He crossed his feet at the ankles, but instead of concentrating on the latest developments in the Middle East, his thoughts segued to the strange feelings he'd experienced at the restaurant and the brief glimpse of that woman. He exhaled a deep breath. The woman he
thought
he had to see. He pressed his fingers over his eyes. Whatever was going on with him seemed to have escalated in the past few weeks. But in the midst of all the weirdness, he knew somehow this was where he was meant to be. For what, he wasn't sure. At some point it would all work itself out.

He was between dozing and half listening to Rachel Maddow when the vibrations of his cell phone broke into the lazy rhythm that was lulling him to sleep. Groaning, he turned to his side and dug his cell phone out of his sweatpants pocket. He held the iPhone up in front of him. His sister's name and number were lit up on the screen.

“Hey, sis.”

“Did I wake you?”

“No. Just watching a little TV. Whatsup?” He stifled a yawn.

Michelle chuckled. “You were always such a bad liar. But since I woke you up, how are you?”

He tucked his hand behind his head. “Aw, now why do we have to start off with the name-calling?” he teased. His twin sister was more than a sibling. They were best friends. Jackson often felt bad that he didn't have that same level of connection with their older brother, Franklin. But Franklin was fifteen years older than his twin brother and sister and they were as much a surprise to him—upsetting his status as the only child—as their arrival was to their stunned parents. In their years growing up, Franklin was more of a father, rather than an older brother. Long before they were out of grade school, Franklin was off to college, and then marriage with children of his own.

“It's true,” she volleyed back. “You can pretend with everyone except me. Those are the rules. Anyway, you've been on my mind all day. Is everything cool?”

Jackson stared up at the ceiling for a moment. Before he'd left New Orleans for Atlanta, he'd confessed to his sister about the strange pull he'd been feeling, and that somehow his destiny was in Atlanta.

“It's getting stronger,” he finally said.

Michelle was quiet for a moment. “Anything new…different?”

“I thought I saw her today.”

“What? Really? What did she look like?”

“Whoa, hold on.” He chuckled. “I mean I didn't actually
see
her. I kind of thought I might have caught a glimpse of her.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew how ridiculous they sounded.

“Hmm, like an impression,” Michelle deduced.

Jackson grinned. If anyone could understand it would be Michelle. “Exactly.” He went on to explain what had transpired earlier in the day.

“You made the right decision, Jackson, about everything. Keep opening yourself and the answers will come. I firmly believe that.”

“So do I, sis.”

They talked for a while longer about the family, their respective jobs and then Michelle revealed the other reason for her call. “Carla is getting married. The announcement was in the
Time-Picayune
last weekend.”

The news barely stirred him. He was only mildly surprised that he didn't feel something more. “I'm happy for her. I wasn't the one.”

“I want you to be happy, too. And my sixth sense tells me that it's only a matter of time.”

“I'm going to hold you to that.”

“You do that. I haven't been wrong yet. Listen, gotta run. We'll talk soon. Okay?”

“Yep. Tell Travis hello and give my niece a kiss for me.”

“Will do. Love ya.”

“Back at you.”

Jackson placed the phone on the coffee table. Michelle was right. Her intuition was always on point. How it was going to finally play out, however, was anyone's guess.

Z
oe decided to forego the ten-minute drive to work and opted to walk instead, making up for her missed visits to the gym over the past week. She strolled, her mind and spirit lifted by the warmth of the morning sun and the soft breeze that carried the scent of blooming flowers and the secret aroma of the South—rich, lush, troubled, ever changing…and something burning. She quickened her pace.

The sound of screaming sirens drew closer and when she reached the corner she saw grey smoke billowing out of one of the buildings on the street. A crowd began to gather even as the fireman urged them back.

Zoe's hand flew to the center of her chest. “Oh,
no.” Slowly she approached the growing crowd. The hair on her arms and at the back of her neck seemed to rise. Her heart pounded. For a moment she felt light-headed and swayed where she stood. The scene in front of her started to recede.

“Are you all right?”

A strong arm gripped her around the waist, keeping her from sinking to her knees. Her rescuer guided her across the street and helped her to sit down on a bench.

Zoe sucked in long breaths of air trying to clear her head.

“Smoke must have gotten to you,” the voice was saying.

She shook her head to clear it and looked into the most incredible pair of dark eyes that were staring at her with concern. She knew those eyes, that voice. But that was not possible. She didn't know this man. Fear crept through her body. She wanted to run, but she couldn't make her body move.

“Sit right here, I'm going to get you some water.”

She watched him rise and tower above her, the same image that came to her in her dreams. Her stomach dipped and rose and dipped again. She gripped the arm of the bench.

He hurried down the crowded street, weaving his way around the clutch of bodies, trucks and fire hoses.

Another fire truck screamed onto the street. Flames leaped from one building to the next. Shouts
rang out from the crowd as they were urged back by fireman and now the police. News vans pulled onto the street.

Zoe got to her feet and was suddenly caught up in the crowd that was being pushed back by the police.

“Move it back! Move it back!”

Zoe merged with the throng, swept along with the wave of bodies until she was ushered off of the street. The farther she moved from the scene the clearer her thoughts became. She tried to spot him, convince herself that he was real and not some trick of her imagination. He was gone, as if he never existed. He probably didn't, she told herself as she took an alternate route to the museum.

By the time she arrived she felt exhausted, drained as if she hadn't slept and then worked all day. Yet, it was barely nine o'clock, and for the first time in weeks she'd actually slept through the night.

Zoe greeted the security guard, swiped her ID card through the slot and proceeded to her office. Once inside she slipped out of her suit jacket and just as she was about to hang it up on the hook, that familiar scent filled her senses. She pulled the jacket to her nose. Instead of hints of smoke and soot from the fire it smelled like…
him
.

Her hands shook and the jacket fell from her fingers.

The phone on her desk rang and she jumped a half inch off the floor.

Exhaling deeply, she returned to her desk and picked up the phone. “Zoe Beaumont.” Slowly she lowered herself into her seat.

“Zoe, it's Mama.”

Zoe sat straight up. Her mother never called her at work. They saved their long, often giggly conversations for Sunday afternoons.

“Mama, what is it?”

“Your grandmother's been asking for you.”

“Is Nana all right? What's wrong?”

“I…I don't know. She's getting more distant everyday. Most days she thinks it's fifty years ago. The only thing that makes sense is her asking for you. You have to come, baby.”

“I was planning to come this weekend. But if you think I need to leave earlier I will. Sharlene is driving down with me.” She could feel her mother's relief seep through the phone.

“Good. I'll fix up the guest room. Thank you, baby.”

“Ma, you don't have to thank me. Please. You take it easy. Where are Aunt Flo and Aunt Fern?”

“Taking turns looking after your grandmother. She hardly notices…” Her voice cracked. “Just come as soon as you can.”

“I will. I promise. Give my love to Nana.”

Zoe replaced the phone in the cradle. She'd heard the anxiety and fear in her mother's voice. Miraya Beaumont was as reliable as the North Star. Noth
ing threw her off course. So to hear uncertainty in her mother's voice completely unnerved Zoe.

She swiveled her chair toward her computer, and powered it up, intent on finding a flight out of Atlanta that wouldn't bankrupt her. Just as the search engine got her to the website, Mike came in.

“Hey. Good morning. What's up?”

“Morning. Did you hear about the big fire up on 9th?”

“I was there.”

Mike frowned. “What?”

“I mean, I decided to walk today and literally walked right into it. Awful.” She shook her head at the memory. “It looked like the whole block was going to go up in flames.” A little shiver went through her as the image of the man of her dreams invaded her senses.

“It's been on all the news channels, but it looks like they finally got it under control.”

“Thank goodness. I hope no one got hurt.”

“Yeah.” He came around to the side of her desk. “Here are the bills for last month's shipments.”

“Just leave them. I'll take care of it.” The Delta Air Lines home page filled her computer screen.

Mike dropped the folders on her desk and spied the page. “Vacation?”

“Not really. I need to get home in a hurry.”

“Everything cool?”

“It's my grandmother.” She keyed in her information. “I was planning on driving down this
weekend, but my mom called just a little while ago and she sounded…” Her fingers flew across the keys. She sniffed, pulled open her desk drawer to get her purse. She took out her wallet and flipped through the compartments for her Visa card, keyed in the numbers and waited.

“I think it's best that I don't wait.” She swallowed the knot in her throat.

“Hey, do what you have to do. Family first. I got this. Don't worry about it.”

Zoe forced a smile. “Thanks.”

The screen flashed her confirmation number and the button to print her itinerary and boarding pass. She pressed
Print
.

Mike placed a large comforting hand on her shoulder. She tilted her head toward him and blinked back the tears burning in her eyes.

“Need a lift to the airport?”

“No. My flight is at 6:00 a.m. I wouldn't do that to anyone,” she said, only half joking.

“It's not a problem.” He stepped back. “Just let me know.”

She bobbed her head. “Thanks.”

Mike strolled out.

Mike really was a great guy. He was intelligent, hard working, fun, sexy. He definitely had it all. She sighed. But even with all that she couldn't take her mind off of what had happened to her less than an hour earlier. The impression of him, his scent,
the look in his eyes, the arch of his cheekbones, the curve of his bottom lip.

Her heart raced as the image of her night stalker come to life replayed in her mind. Yet her pulse didn't race with fear or trepidation, but rather with anticipation and curiosity. Who was he really and why did he have that kind of effect on her? Was he really the man of her dreams? She logged off of the Delta site and laughed lightly to herself.
There you go being ridiculous
. If that were true, then it meant that she really was buying into all that foolishness that her mother, aunts and grandmother had been saying for as long as she could remember.
Ridiculous
.

Her grandmother
. Nana Zora was the thread that held the fabric of her family together. She couldn't imagine her family without Nana Zora. Growing up, Nana had been more of a mother to her than her own mother, Miraya, had ever been. Her mother was an aspiring singer and spent most of Zoe's youth and young adulthood traveling the country, moving from one nightclub or lounge to the other. One disappointment too many and a cigarette short of losing her voice altogether, Miraya returned to her hometown of New Orleans and tried to put her life back together and bond with a daughter she barely knew.

It was Nana Zora who encouraged Zoe to pursue her love of the arts, which she insisted Zoe had inherited from her mother. Zoe believed differently.
It was her Nana who nurtured her passion for art and painting and her interest in history and other cultures. By the time Miraya Beaumont returned to New Orleans, Zoe had traveled and studied and mapped out her future—without the help or guidance of her mother. It took time and a lot of patience, forgiveness and a lot of coaxing from Nana but they'd finally found their way to each other.

It was also her grandmother who firmly believed in the legacy of the Beaumont women. As much as she didn't want to buy into the old wives' tale and family lore, everything that her grandmother, her mother and her aunts had said was slowly coming to pass.

She picked up the phone to call Sharlene and let her know about her change of plans and wondered what her grandmother would say about the inexplicable events that had made their way into her life.

 

“Tomorrow morning?”

“I don't want to wait until the weekend. My mother sounded scared and she never sounds scared.”

“Let me rearranged my schedule. Give me your flight number and I'll book my ticket as well.”

“Sharl, that's too much. You don't have to—”

“I know that. I want to. She's my Nana, too. And you're my sister. I'll call you back in a few.”

Zoe squeezed the receiver in her hand and briefly
shut her eyes. She wouldn't admit to Sharlene just how much she needed her. She didn't have to. Sharlene already knew.