Midnight Bayou

perfect. She’s just perfect, Ma.”
    “When do I meet her?”
    “Remy’s wedding. There’s this one minor glitch—other than the one where she isn’t ready to say yes.”
    “I’m sure you can overcome that minor detail. What’s the glitch?”
    He sat down again and told her about Lilibeth.
    By the time he got off the phone, he felt lighter. Going with impulse, he went upstairs to clean up and change. He was going to confront Lena a bit ahead of schedule.

16
    D eclan detoured by Remy’s office on the way to Et Trois. The wedding was approaching quickly, and his duties as best man included coordinating the bachelor party. Though he figured the big picture was clear enough—enough booze to float a battleship, and a strip club—there were some finer details to work out.
    When reception buzzed through to Remy’s office, he heard his friend’s almost frantic “Send him right in.”
    The minute he opened the office door, he saw why.
    Effie, tears streaking down her cheeks, sat in one of the visitor chairs with Remy crouched at her feet. Though Remy kept mopping at the tears, kept trying to comfort, he shot Declan a look of sheer male panic.
    In a testament to friendship, Declan resisted the urge to back out and run. Instead he closed the door, crossed over and rubbed Effie’s shoulder.
    “Sweetheart, I told you I’d tell him you were dumping him for me.”
    Effie merely looked up, then covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
    “Okay, bad joke.” Declan scrubbed now-sweaty palms over his jeans. “What’s wrong?”
    “Problem with the wedding venue,” Remy began, and Effie let out a wail.
    “There is no wedding venue.” She snatched Remy’s handkerchief, buried her face in it. “They had . . . they had a kitchen fire, and the fire department came, and they . . . they . . . Oh what’re we going to do!”
    “Smoke and water damage,” Remy explained to Declan. “Over and above the fire damage. They’re not going to be able to put it back together in time.”
    “It’s my fault.”
    Mirroring Remy, Declan crouched. “Okay, honey, why’d you start the fire?”
    It made her laugh—for a split second. “I wanted to use that old plantation house. It’s romantic and so lovely. Remy said it’ll all be easier booking a hotel ballroom, but no, I just had to have my way. And now look. We’ve got less than three weeks, and we’re . . . We’re just sunk, that’s all.”
    “No, we’re not, honey. We’ll find another place. Pleure pas, chère. ” Remy kissed the tip of her nose. “Worse comes to worst, we’ll have the wedding, then we’ll have our party later. We’ll have us a real fais do-do, after the honeymoon.”
    “Where are we going to get married? City Hall?”
    “I don’t care where we get married.” Now he kissed her fingers. “Long as we do.”
    She sniffled, sighed, leaned into him. “I’m sorry. I’m being silly and selfish. You’re right. It doesn’t matter where or how.”
    “Sure it does.” Declan’s statement had them both staring at him, Effie with tears still swirling, Remy withbaffled frustration. “You can’t let a little fire screw up your plans. Use my place.”
    “What do you mean, your place?” Remy demanded.
    “The Hall. Sure as hell big enough. Ballroom needs some work, but there’s time. I have to strong-arm some painters, but I finished the entrance this morning. Gardens are in really good shape, kitchen’s done, parlors, library. Lots of rough spots yet, but people won’t care about that. They’ll get the house, the grounds, the ghosts. They’ll talk about it for years.”
    “Do you mean it?” Effie snagged Declan’s hands before Remy could speak.
    “Sure I do. We can pull it off.”
    “Dec,” Remy began, but Effie rolled right over him.
    “Oh God. Oh, I love you.” She threw her arms around Declan’s neck. “You’re the most wonderful man in the world. An angel,” she said and kissed him. “A saint.”
    “Do you mind?” Declan said to Remy. “We’d like to be alone.”
    Laughing, Effie spun to her feet. “Oh, I shouldn’t let you do this. You’ll have all those strangers roaming around your house, trooping all over your lawn. But I’m going to let you because I’m desperate, and it’s so perfect. I swear, I swear you won’t have to do any of the work. I’ll take care of everything. I’m going to owe you till my dying day.”
    “Giving me your firstborn son will be payment enough.”
    Remy sat