He’d been in love with her, of that she was sure. But he’d also been very aware of the games she played-and he hadn’t fallen for them. Despite his lack of social status, he hadn’t kowtowed to her or indulged her every whim.
He’d stood up to her, making it very clear that if they were to end up together, she would not be pulling his strings. He’d also been pretty firm about the fact that, once he graduated from medical school, he wanted to open a practice in Indigo rather than New Orleans.
Although her family had liked Michel, Celeste’s mother had advised her to marry a man of her own class, so that she could maintain her rightful station in New Orleans society. And Celeste herself had decided her life would be easier if she married a man she could control, instead of one who challenged her in every way.
It was a decision she’d regretted almost every day of her life, but especially recently as she’d watched her daughter and granddaughters fall in love and marry for love.
When she first got the idea to come to Indigo, she’d told herself it was solely to look after her family’s property and see for herself what Luc was doing with it.
But deep down, she knew there was more to it. She and Michel had kept in touch over the years, even if it was only to exchange Christmas cards. He’d been hurt when she’d turned down his marriage proposal, but he’d never held her decision against her. And when she’d felt the need to keep tabs on Luc, Michel had been the one she’d turned to.
She’d been terrified to actually call him on the telephone, her heart racing as she punched in the numbers, just as it had done when she was a teenager. And then she’d heard his voice-rough with age, but still undeniably, unmistakably, Michel Landry, and the years had melted away.
She’d been shocked to discover he was widowed-for almost three years. She supposed that was when the idea had crept into her mind that the embers of their decades-old romance might be rekindled.
So now here she was, and Michel had been courting her with the ardency of the young man he’d once been. The years had dissolved as they’d enjoyed cocktails on the veranda every afternoon.
And then last night…oh, my. She’d had no idea she still had it in her.
But what to do now?
She reached into the bottom of the box she’d brought with her from New Orleans and pulled out a small, framed family photo. It wasn’t one that was really appropriate for the display at the opera house because it was a bit blurry. But she’d always loved it.
It showed a group of young people enjoying drinks-probably mint juleps-on the veranda here at the house, circa the mid-1940s, just after the war. Michel had his arm around her waist, and she was laughing up at him. They looked so in love, it made her heart ache.
There were no such pictures of herself and Arnaud Robichaux.
She set the photo on the mantel, along with a couple of other family-oriented pictures. She didn’t think Luc would mind, and she hoped Michel would notice it and remember how close they had once been. Although he’d clearly shown his interest in her recently, he hadn’t said anything about love. Or the future.
At their age, they couldn’t pussyfoot around. She had to make some decisions about her future-however long or short that might be.
When she heard the back door open, her heart fluttered like a silly thing. “Hallo, anyone home?”
Celeste resisted the urge to run to the kitchen, and focused on arranging the photographs. “I’m in the parlor, Michel.” She still didn’t turn to look when she heard his footsteps enter the room, though it was killing her.
“Luc’s gone to the store in New Iberia to buy groceries, but he should be home soon.”
“Luc’s not who I came to see, chère. So stop playing coy and give me a proper greeting.”
“Michel, really.” She tried to sound disapproving, but a renegade giggle gave her away.
He reached her in three strides and swept her into his arms. “You can’t fool me anymore, Celeste. You want the same thing I want.” He kissed her with much more passion than an eighty-something-year-old man should be able to muster, and she answered with equal ardor, surprising herself yet again.
But did he want what she wanted? Did he think it was possible to make up for the mistakes she’d made as a young woman and start over? Or was she just an old fool?
She pulled away from him. “Michel. We have to talk.”
“If you’re going to tell me we’re too old to mess around, I’m not listening.”
“No, that isn’t it.”
At the uncertain tremor in her voice, Michel sobered and led her to the settee. He cupped her face gently in his hand. “What is it, love?” The endearment slipped out easily, and he didn’t seem embarrassed by it.
Well, if he wasn’t embarrassed by his feelings, then she wouldn’t be, either. For once in her life, she would strike out boldly without being in control, without knowing how it was all going to turn out.
“Michel, how would you feel about my moving to Indigo?”
“For how long?”
“For the rest of my life.”
There was a long pause. “You want to live here? I thought you loved New Orleans. The excitement of the big city, the theater and opera and ballet, the shopping and-”
“Those are things I loved as a young woman. But my priorities have changed. I…I was stupid and self-absorbed when I was young. I didn’t know what I was doing. I made a terrible mistake by not marrying you when I had the chance, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
She was blurting it all out now, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
Michel drew back, looking almost comically shocked. “Why, Celeste, I never thought I’d see the day you would admit you were wrong about anything.”
“I’d ask you to stop teasing, but the sad thing is, I know you’re serious. I’ve always thought I knew what was best for everyone. But how could that be true, when I didn’t even know what was best for myself?”
“You think you do now?”
“Yes. You’re the best thing for me, Michel. You bring out everything that’s good in me. You don’t let me get away with anything. I want to be with you.”
For the first time, he looked uncomfortable. Oh, Dieu, was he going to turn her down? Was he going to tell her she was fine for a roll in the hay but he’d rather marry an alligator than her?
It was probably what she deserved.
Michel reached into his vest pocket and pulled something out, but he kept it hidden from view. It might have been a breath mint, or just about anything. “When you say you want to be with me…”
“I want to marry you, silly as that is. But I’d settle for living in sin.”
“Celeste!”
“Oh, I don’t care what people think anymore.”
“You do and you know it.”
“All right, I suppose I do. But I’m prepared to withstand the gossip.”
“Let me get this straight. You want to move to Indigo. Permanently. And be my girl, married or not.”
“That’s about the size of it.” It felt good, she realized, to be perfectly honest. No games, no manipulation, no withholding anything. If he laughed at her, at least she knew she’d tried her very best.
But he didn’t laugh, and instead extended his hand and opened his fingers to reveal a lovely oval diamond ring. “Then you might be interested in this.”
She was afraid to touch it, afraid she had misunderstood. It couldn’t be this easy. She gave him a questioning look.
“I’ve been carrying it around in my pocket since the day you arrived in Indigo, trying to work up the courage to ask you to marry me. It’s the one I bought in 1945, when I asked you to marry me the first time. I could have returned it to the jewelry store or sold it, but I never did.”