Midnight Bayou

you do, Lena. And what I want most in the world is to hold onto you.”
    She didn’t look at him, didn’t dare, as everything inside her seemed to fill up so she knew one glance at his face would have it all spilling out. Warm and sweet and conquered.
    “That’s a good answer,” she managed.
    “It’s a true one.” He took one of her tensed hands off the wheel, kissed it. “God’s truth.”
    “I think it is. I don’t know what to do about it, Declan. You’re the first man who’s ever made me worry about what to do. I’ve got powerful feelings for you. I’d rather I didn’t.”
    “Here’s what I think. We should elope to Vegas, then you won’t have anything to worry about.”
    “Oh, I’m sure the Boston Fitzgeralds would just be thrilled hearing you’ve eloped to Vegas with a Cajun bar owner from the bayou. That’d set them up right and tight.”
    “It’d give them something to talk about for the next decade or two. My mother would like you,” he said, almost to himself. “And she’s no easy mark. She’d like that you’re your own woman and don’t take any crap off anyone. Run your own business, look after your grandmother. She’d respect that, and she’d like that. Then she’d love you because I do. My father would take one look at you and be your slave.”
    She laughed at that and it loosened some of the tightness in her chest. “Are all the Fitzgerald men so easy?”
    “We’re not easy. We just have exceptional taste.”
    She pulled up in front of Odette’s house, and finally turned to look at him. “Any of them coming down for Remy and Effie’s wedding?”
    “My parents are.”
    “We’ll see what we see, won’t we?”
    She hopped out, headed to the door ahead of him. “Grandmama!” She bumped the door open and strolled in. “I brought you a handsome gentleman caller.”
    Odette came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a red checked cloth. The smells of fresh coffee and baking followed her. She was, as always, decked out in layers of jewelry and sturdy boots. But there was a strain around her eyes and mouth even Declan spotted instantly.
    “A gentleman caller’s always welcome. Bébé ,” she replied and kissed Lena’s cheek.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Baked me some brown bread this morning,” Odette said, evading Lena’s question. “Y’all come back to the kitchen.” She wrapped an arm around Lena’s waist to nudge her along. “What you got in the pretty bag, cher ?”
    “Just a little something I thought you’d like.” In the kitchen, Declan set it on the table. “Smells fabulous in here. Maybe I ought to learn how to bake bread.”
    Odette smiled as he’d hoped she would, but the tension in the air didn’t lessen. “Could be I’ll teach you a thing or two. Kneading dough’s good therapy. Takes your mind off your troubles, gives you thinking time.”
    She took the small wrapped box out of the gift bag, turned it in her hand, then tugged the ribbon free. “Lena, you don’t nail this boy down, I may just snatch him for myself.” When she opened the box, her face softened.
    The trinket box fit into the palm of her hand. It was heart-shaped and hand-painted with a couple in old-fashioned formal dress sitting on a garden bench. When she lifted the lid, it played a tune.
    “I’ve been hearing that song in my head for weeks,” Declan told her. “So when I saw this, I figured I’d better buy it.”
    “ ‘After the Ball,’ ” Odette told him. “It’s an old waltz. Sad and sweet.” She looked up at him. “Maybe you got a nice widowed uncle you could send my way.”
    “Well, there’s Uncle Dennis, but he’s homely as a billy goat.”
    “He’s got half your heart, I’ll take him.”
    “Isn’t this a pretty picture?”
    At the voice, Lena went stiff as if someone had pressed a gun to her head and cocked the hammer. Declan saw the look pass between her and her grandmother. Apologetic on Odette’s part, shocked on Lena’s.
    Then they turned.
    Lilibeth slumped against the doorjamb. She wore a short red robe, loosely belted. Her hair was a tumble around her shoulders, and her face already made up for the day with her eyes darkly lined, her lips slick and red as her robe.
    “And who might this be?” She lifted one hand, languidly pushed back her hair as she sent Declan a slow, feline smile.
    “What’s she doing here?” Lena demanded. “What the hell is she doing in this house?”
    “It’s my house as much as yours,”