Once Upon a Christmas (13 page)

S
he was back in five minutes.

Theo went on with his business. He had to get these lights up before the rest of the Melancon clan came for the Christmas celebration. They’d be dropping in and out, coming and going. They all had busy, glamorous lives and very little time to sit still and enjoy the blessings of the holidays. It was Theo’s job to make sure the whole house looked festive and polished for the various gatherings. He had lots to keep him busy. Lots.

She was staring at him again.

He could feel her eyes on him. It reminded him of the time he was walking alone on the sandy lane leading from
Belle Terre
to his house and he’d felt something watching him. That something had turned out to be a sleek Florida panther, a rare sight in the swamps these days.

Theo now felt as if he’d stumbled on something else that was very rare. The perfect woman. All prepped and trained to be almost robotic in her etiquette and her social
standing. There had to be a way to break through all that cool layering to get to the heart of the woman. He’d gotten her flustered during this first round.

Time for round two.

He whirled and caught her red-handed. She flinched and looked away.

“Back for more,
chère?
” he asked in such a sweet way, the cool December air seemed to still. “You know, a lady wouldn’t stare that way.”

“I…I won’t be swayed or intimidated,” she said, coming down the steps again, her head lifted in an uppity manner that only added to her cuteness. “We need to discuss some things. For example, you need a haircut. I’ve scheduled you an appointment in the village, with Ginger at Ginger’s Bayou Beauties. You know the place, I’m sure.”

He shook his head. Women always wanted to change a man right off. “I’m not going to that beauty shop. My brothers would laugh me outta the parish. Besides, my
maman
trims my hair now and again.”

“You are going. If you want to impress your Maggie, then you can’t look like a caveman. No disrespect to your mother, of course, but a gentleman always has a neat, trimmed haircut.”

He turned his head sideways at her. “I told you I wasn’t a gentleman.”

“And I promised my grandmother I’d help you become one.”

Silent and scowling, he went back to trying to twist lights around the nearest tree trunk, throwing in a couple of he-man grunts for good measure.

“After the haircut, we’ll go shopping. We’ll have to drive into New Orleans.” She studied one of her French-manicured nails. “The Dollar Hollow in the village simply won’t do.”

“I buy my jeans there,” he pointed out, the batch of lights he’d just unstrung seeming to tangle in his white-fisted grip. “My shirts and shoes, too.”

“You can’t wear those horrid faded jeans to a formal Christmas dinner.”

Frustrated at her high-handed, snobbish attitude, Theo threw down the strand of lights. “
Non,
but I don’t need some fancy outfit that costs an arm and a leg. I have some nice dress shirts that I wear to church. Why won’t one of dem do?”

She slanted her aquamarine eyes down on him. “Because dem—them—those—aren’t the right kind of shirts for a gentleman. You need something tailored and fitted to—” her gaze skimmed over his chest “—to your shoulders and arms.”

“I always just eyeball the size,” he said with a shrug. This “gentleman” business was way too complicated.

“That’s the problem, Theo,” she said as she pranced toward him. “You can’t eyeball good taste.”

“Well, then mebbe I don’t need to get good taste,” he responded, wondering how the tables had been turned so he was now the one on the defensive.

“We’ll have to work on your diction, too,” she said, her eyes gleaming with victory. “You need to learn to articulate your words, not slur them together in a mumbo jumbo of cluttered Cajun-French and broken English.”

“Oo ye yi,”
Theo said, stringing lights with all his might, stringing them so tight the poor tree would probably have permanent marks. “I’m so sorry that you can’t comprehend what I’m saying to you, suga’.” He wanted to say a few more things, things she’d understand in no uncertain terms, but then, he reminded himself that this stuck-up beauty was Betty Jean’s granddaughter. Out of respect for her
mamere,
he kept those thoughts to himself. In a slow, deliberately drawn out drawl, he added, “What exactly is it that you don’t understand about me, Miss Elise?”

“Everything,” she said with a huffy shrug, a becoming flush of pink rising up her face. “I mean, you had so much going for you, Theo, from what
Mamere
has told me. You went to college. I know you must be smart. Why do you act so, so—”

“Stupide?”
He threw down the rest of the lights, then turned to glare at her, the pressure building inside his chest causing him to take a deep breath. “That’s what you think,
oui?
You feel sorry for poor Theo, the Cajun boy who had to give up his dreams to come home and help the family? Is that how you see me, as someone who just gave up? Someone too dumb to see what he had in front of his face?”

Anger made him stomp close, his finger in her face. “Let me tell you something, right here, right now. You do not need to feel sorry for me. I am a happy man. A very happy man. I love my family. I will do whatever it takes to see them through this rough spot. That’s what family is all about. But then, I reckon you’ve never had to deal
with such things, have you, princess?” Seeing the mist of embarrassment in her eyes, he leaned even closer. “Did you understand that? Did I say it in the right way? Do you think you could wipe that look of pity off your face and understand that I don’t need the likes of you doing me any favors?”

“I’m doing this for my grandmother,” Elise replied, her eyelashes fluttering as she batted back what looked like anger. “I’m doing this as
a favor to her.
”

“
Oui,
that’s very kind of you. But, me, I’m thinking the deal is off. I’m thinking mebbe I don’t need any manners training from someone like you.”

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean, someone like me?”

He pushed and pushed until he had her up against a square column. “I mean,
chère,
that I like my women down-to-earth and honest. I like them sweet and pleasant. I like to laugh with a woman, and share my heart with her. I like to be on the same level, two hearts, one purpose. I can’t see that happening with you, even though you are mighty tempting and as pretty as a morning glory. I can’t—”

“No one ever implied we’d…that we’d become…that you and I…we’re just…I’m not interested in—”

“Oh, right,” he said, laughing as he kept her pinned to the post. “You’re just here to make sure I behave and change my bad ways,
oui?
You feel an obligation to help me, because your dear
grand-mère
asked you to do this. And you can’t turn her down, maybe because your heart is telling you that you’ve neglected her and now you feel really bad about all of that? Is that the way of it,
catin?
”

She gave him a direct look that caused her blue-green eyes to blaze like a fire’s tip. “You think you know me so well, don’t you, Theo? You think I’m just a shallow socialite who’s never had to work for anything, right?”

“
Oui,
that’s about right.”

She looked away. “You don’t know me at all, then.” But when she looked back at him, he thought he saw defeat there in her eyes. “I’m blessed to be born into a wealthy family, no doubt. But I’ve worked hard for my family, too. Not in the same way as you, but hard nevertheless, because I love them. Maybe you can’t understand me, but don’t you think you’re the one who’s a snob, judging me just because our lives are so different?”

Theo backed up, took a breath. She was right. He was judging her. And he’d been really mean to tease her and flirt with her. And deep inside, he couldn’t disappoint her grandmother. The woman had been his friend and his mentor for several years. He’d walk through a gator-infested swamp to please Betty Jean Melancon. Besides, it was only two weeks or so. Surely he could handle Elise for that small amount of time.

They stood silent for a few breaths, their eyes locking in an unspoken battle of wills. Theo had to give the blonde credit. She didn’t back down easily.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I won’t act up again. What time is the hair appointment?”

“You’ll go?” she asked, surprise coloring her creamy skin a glistening pink.

“I’ll go. I could use a good trim. And that Ginger, well, it for sure will be nice to have her hands in my hair.”

“Thank you,” she said, the lifting of her elegantly arched brows the only sign that he’d shocked her. She straightened and turned to walk back into the house. “Lunch will be ready in an hour. We’ll go into the village after we eat.”

“I have my own lunch,” he countered. “I’d prefer to take my meals out here, by myself, from now on.”

“Oh, okay then. I’ll see you this afternoon.” She turned at the back door. “And Theo, I don’t feel sorry for you, not at all. I…I admire you. Very much.”

Theo knew he was in serious trouble. How could a man resist a compliment like that, all wrapped up inside an explanation and a gracious admission, said from a mouth so pretty and pink it made a man think of plums and strawberries? And said by a woman with eyes the shade of pure water and clear blue skies?

How was a man supposed to behave and resist that kind of package?

Dear Lord, give me strength,
Theo silently prayed.
Help me to keep my mouth shut and my eyes to myself, Lord. That woman is way out of my league. Way out of my reach. I need Your intervention, Jesus.

“And I need my head examined,” he said, yanking another strand of glittering lights.

When he happened to glance up again, he saw Elise standing at the window, looking out at him. Theo looked away. When he turned back, she was gone.

“G
rand-mère,
I don’t think I can do this.”

“Oh, all you have to do it twist the bread into a little bow, darling.”

Elise shook her head. “I’m not talking about making dinner rolls. I don’t think I can work with Theo.”

“Difficult, is he?”

Elise didn’t appreciate the gleam of mirth in her grandmother’s eyes. “That’s just the beginning. He thinks I feel pity for him. Have you considered that we’re insulting him by doing this?”

“It’s no insult to offer help to a friend, sweetie.”

“But he seems to resent me so much.”

“He resents his lot in life,” Betty Jean said, her tiny fingers busy making pretty homemade yeast rolls. “How’s that crawfish coming, Reginald?”

On the other side of the long kitchen, Reginald was busy putting the finishing touches on his famous seafood stuffing. It would go with the massive turkey Reginald and
Theo would fry up Cajun style on a big cooker out back. “Crawfish and shrimp are in, Mrs. Melancon. Oysters go in next. Then I’ll stir up the sausage. This batch should cool nicely and be ready for the freezer this afternoon.”

“Smells delicious,” Betty Jean said. Then she turned back to Elise. “Just keep at Theo. He’ll come around.”

Elise looked down at the lopsided bow of dough she’d tried to twist. “But why is this so important to you,
Mamere?
There must be something you’re not telling me.”

Betty Jean sent a covert glance toward the ever-listening butler on the other side of the room, then turned up the dial on the radio station that continued to blast Christmas hymns out over the big kitchen. “Well, I do have a confession to make,” she said, looking contrite. “I have an ulterior motive for asking you to do this.”

“I knew it,” Elise said, slapping down the blob of dough in front of her. “Tell me everything, before I make a complete idiot of myself with Theo.”

Betty Jean continued to twist the bowknots into precise little rolls. “You remember when you were young, dear. You used to tell me that you wanted to live here with me forever.”

Wondering what this had to do with Theo, Elise nodded. “I remember. I wanted to stay at
Belle Terre
and run Melancon Oil and Gas right from the back porch.”

“Yes, well, that all changed when you went up to college at Centenary. Then your father moved to the Shreveport office, and well, you’ve all made a good life up in Shreveport.”

Elise wiped the flour and dough off her hands, then looked over at her grandmother. “But?”

“But, I’ve been thinking. It sure would be nice to have a woman in the local office of Melancon Oil and Gas.”

Elise blinked, her mouth falling open. “I must have heard that wrong.”

“No, no, you heard right,” Betty Jean said inside a chuckle. “I mean, I have enough men and boys around to start my own football team, and I intend to let any and all who are willing be a part of the team. But you’re so smart, dear, and you’ve done such a wonderful job up in Shreveport. I was thinking I could make you head of our Environmental and Ecological Department.”

Elise blinked again. “
Mamere,
we don’t have an environmental and ecological department.”

“Oh, but we would, if you’d agree to head it up,” Betty Jean pointed out. “These wetlands are in serious danger, darling. Just ask Theo. That’s one reason he went to college. He wants to work to save the land he loves. Did I already mention that?”

“You did. But I still don’t see what that has to do with me ‘reforming’ him, or how my working down here could possibly help when we don’t even have that department.”

“I aim to create the department. I’m going to present it at the next board meeting, which is next month, by the way. And I aim to hire Theo and let him work his way through the rest of his college term. Then I’ll promote him once he gets his degree. I still control fifty-one percent of the stock and so I can appoint anyone I see fit to head up a new department. But I wanted him to gain his confi
dence back and go back to finish school. That’s why I need you to help him, dear. He’ll listen to you.”

“Grand-mère—”

“What time is it?” came a feeble wail from the pocket doors leading out into the hallway.

Elise and Betty Jean turned to find Cissie standing there, her white satin sleep mask pushed up on her forehead, her hair all sleep-tousled. She was wearing a bright purple silk robe and feathery house slippers.

“High time for decent folks to be out of bed,” Betty Jean said. Then she shot Elise a warning look and put one finger to her mouth to indicate that they didn’t need to discuss this any further. “We’ll talk more later,” she whispered. “Cissie, the coffee’s been on for two hours, but help yourself.”

Cissie stumbled with a dramatic flair toward the coffeepot, then plopped onto a wrought-iron barstool by the counter. “Reginald, two spoons of sweetener and lots of cream, please.”

Reginald rolled his eyes in disapproval, but went to fetch Cissie’s coffee. “Would you care for a bran muffin, Miss Cissie?”

“Bran? Heavens, no,” Cissie replied, shaking her head. “I’m on that new diet—the one where you give up carbs—and I know for a fact that your bran muffins are full of carbs.”

“They’re good for your digestive system,” Betty Jean said with a prim smile. Then she eyed Cissie’s waistline. “You know, they keep you from being so bloated.”

Cissie sat up straight. “Am I bloated? Elise, do I look bloated?”

Elise glared at her grandmother. “Mother, you look fine.”

“I’ll have bacon, crisp, and one half slice of toast, dry,” Cissie instructed the hovering Reginald. “And some fresh fruit would be nice—for my bloated state.” She lifted her brows toward Betty Jean. “I’ve been under such stress, you can’t imagine.”

“No, can’t begin to imagine,” Betty Jean said as she handed Reginald a baking sheet of rolls. “Why don’t you tell us all about it.”

“Well,” Cissie said, lounging back against her chair, her steaming coffee in one hand, “I was the chairperson of our Christmas cantata this year. I can’t tell you what a chore that was—fifty-five choir members, dozens of unruly children running around, and a minister who is constantly worrying about how much money is coming into the church. It’s enough to make a sane woman turn stark raving mad.”

“Know any sane women?” Betty Jean asked Elise with a wink.

Cissie frowned, but continued her long, drawn-out account of her hectic life—the social whirl of party obligations, the many fund-raisers where she simply must be seen, the many trips to find suitable clothes to wear to all the holiday social events. “I tell you, I’ll be glad when Christmas is over.”

Betty Jean stood perfectly still. “You shouldn’t make such a remark, Cissie.”

“Why on earth not?” Cissie said, her hand busy at her sleep mask.

“Because this special season is not about parties and frocks, or seeing and being seen. It’s about Jesus Christ. Or have you forgotten?”

Cissie looked sheepish. “
Mamere,
you know I’m a very devout Christian.”

“No, I didn’t know that for sure,” Betty Jean replied. “I’ll rest better now that you’ve told me though.”

“I’m sorry,” Cissie said, nibbling her toast. “I haven’t forgotten. And in case I didn’t say it before, I’m so glad we decided to come here to
Belle Terre
for Christmas. It does bring back the true meaning of the season.”

Betty Jean seemed content with that declaration. Elise walked over to her mother. “Sometimes we forget what’s important, don’t we, Mommy?”

Cissie laughed and hugged her daughter. “Yes, we sure do.” Then she took Elise’s hands in hers. “Now, darling, tell me the truth, do I really look bloated?”

Theo looked in the mirror at Ginger’s Bayou Beauties and winced. “It’s too short.”

Ginger cooed and purred, her big, bright red hair curling around her cherubic face. Flashing her big brown eyes, she giggled. “Tee-do, you look so handsome. Why if I didn’t have a steady boyfriend, you’d be in serious trouble.”

Theo glanced from Ginger’s beaming face to Elise’s blank one. Hard to read, that cool little blonde. She’d been mighty quiet on the short ride into the village. And she’d been ultra-lady-like since they’d arrived at Ginger’s.

“What do you think?” he asked Elise now, his gaze touching on hers in the mirror’s reflection.

“You look much better,” Elise said. Her tone told him she was distracted. Or plotting how to torture him next.

“You don’t seem too impressed by my handiwork, suga’,” Ginger said on a long, drawn-out whine. “What’s the matter, Elise? He doesn’t look like all those preppy boys you date up in Shreveport.”

“He looks just fine,” Elise said, her voice like ice water dripping off a cypress limb. “Thank you, Ginger.”

Ginger took the charge card Elise handed her, frowned, then went about adding up the cost of the haircut.

Theo got out of the chair, feeling the warm air from the overhead heating vent on his freshly shaven neck. “What’s eating at you?” he asked Elise.

She refused to look at him. “Oh, nothing. I’m just worried about
Grand-mère.
She’s saying things that don’t make any sense to me.”

“Your grandmother is as sharp as a tack,” Theo said, grinning. “She has the energy of someone half her age.”

“Yes, too much energy,” Elise countered. “Her mind is always moving ahead. But she has some strange notions these days.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

He watched as she signed the charge receipt. Thanking Ginger again, Elise headed for the door.

“You come back anytime, Tee-do,” Ginger said, her smile full of appreciation.

“Thanks,” Theo said, glad he had the excuse of being Maggie’s intended to shield him from the likes of Ginger St. James. Remembering that Maggie might no longer be
his, Theo felt a tug of regret. Maybe he should just tell Elise this was pointless. Maggie wouldn’t even return his phone calls.

He glanced over at her, saw the haughty way she carried herself to her little sports car, and decided even though he was being tortured with new haircuts and such, he was still enjoying himself way too much to stop this silly notion.

In another week or so, it would all be over anyway. Elise would go back to her job at Melancon Oil and Gas in Shreveport, and he’d go back to helping his family try to make ends meet.

Until then, Theo would just have to make the best of this awkward situation. And who knew, maybe Maggie would see him in a different light if he did clean up and try to better himself.

Maybe.

Maybe he wanted that still.

He looked over at Elise, and wondered if maybe he no longer had eyes for Maggie Aguillard after all.