“Oh, Michel. I don’t know what to say.”
He slid off the sofa onto one knee, wincing slightly. “This isn’t as easy as it was the first time, at least not on my knees. Celeste, will you marry me?”
“Oh, get up, you fool. I already said I would.” She pulled him to his feet, then wrapped her arms around him and wept on his shoulder. It was a good kind of crying, though.
Michel patted her on the back and smoothed her hair, and after a minute or two, Celeste pulled an embroidered handkerchief out of her sleeve and blotted her eyes, knowing she looked a mess.
“Shall we elope like a couple of teenagers?”
“I think that would be the best thing.”
“Michel, I want to show you something.” She led him back to the mantel and took the photograph down, the one of the two of them on the veranda. “Look at us.”
“Oh, my, weren’t we a dashing couple.”
“And so in love. The way we’re looking at each other…”
“Reminds me of the way Luc and Loretta look at each other,” Michel said. “At first I was skeptical of those two getting together, but now I can see they’re exactly right for each other.”
“If they don’t ruin things. Oh, Michel, it wouldn’t be fair, us being so happy and the young people so miserable. We have to do something to help.”
“I don’t know that Loretta is going to soften,” Michel considered, stroking his chin. “She has some mighty powerful reasons not to trust men in general and Luc in particular.”
“I’ll talk to her. I’ll make her see that she can’t turn her back on love if there’s any chance to make it work.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“MELANIE, COME IN.” Luc opened the door wider to admit his cousin, who’d come to Indigo to check out the facilities and the site of the banquet.
She looked around with wide eyes. “This place is incredible. I remember coming here once when I was a little girl. The whole house was trashed.”
“It was pretty bad,” Luc agreed. “But it was fun fixing it up.”
“You didn’t just fix it up, you transformed it.” Melanie inspected the furniture, the pictures, the rugs. “You really have an eye for color. Where’s Grand-mère?”
“She’s out.”
“Out? Out where?”
“I’m not sure. She doesn’t give me her agenda.”
“Luc, she’s almost eighty-six years old. You can’t just let her go gallivanting around the countryside by herself. What if she falls? What if she gets sick?”
“Like I have any say over what she does? When was the last time you tried to tell her she couldn’t do something?”
“Good point. But aren’t you worried?”
“She’s not alone. She has a boyfriend.”
Melanie’s jaw dropped. “You’re joking.”
“Apparently they were in love way back when, before she married our grandfather. They’ve rekindled the flame.”
“Luc, this is dangerous. What if he’s a fortune hunter? Celeste has millions.”
Luc shook his head. “He’s not a fortune hunter. He’s the town doctor, salt of the earth, and I believe he genuinely cares for Celeste.”
Melanie gave him a suspicious look. “How do I know you didn’t cook all this up? You could be in cahoots with this guy.”
Luc thought he couldn’t feel any worse than he did after Loretta dumped him, but Melanie’s lack of faith made him feel sick inside. For the first time, he had to come face-to-face with the fact that he might never fully regain his family’s trust.
“I don’t blame you for thinking that,” he said. “Celeste should be back in a little while. You can talk to her, and to Doc. Hell, talk to anyone in this town about Doc. It’ll put your mind at ease.”
Melanie looked down at her shoes. “I’m sorry, Luc. I don’t know what made me say that. Celeste isn’t feeble-minded, and she’s never been a sucker. She believes in you, and she obviously believes in this Doc person, so I will, too.”
She suddenly stepped forward and hugged Luc, and he couldn’t have been more surprised. He squeezed her back. “Thanks, Melanie. Let me show you the kitchen, and then we can go look at the opera house. Celeste will probably be back by then.”
“Has it been awful, having her here?” Melanie asked in a whisper, as if the walls might overhear and report back to Celeste. “I love Queen Cee, but I’d go crazy having her around all the time, looking over my shoulder, criticizing.”
“You know, surprisingly, it hasn’t been too bad. I think she’s getting soft in her old age.”
“You gotta be kidding.”
Luc shrugged. “You’ll see.”
Melanie inspected Luc’s kitchen like an army general inspecting the troops. He’d cleaned it until it sparkled this morning, so she wouldn’t find anything wanting.
“You sprang for some decent appliances, I’ll say that,” she said appreciatively.
“Celeste did. She understood the need for professional grade. On weekends when I’m cooking breakfast for ten or twelve people, I’m grateful.”
Melanie nodded approvingly and made a few notations in a small notebook.
“Let’s go see the opera house. Didn’t it used to be an antique store?”
“Until recently. The shop’s owner, Maude Picard, passed away. Her goddaughter moved the business to a little storefront.”
They made the short drive in Luc’s Tahoe. Melanie admired the opera house’s simplified Greek revival style and paused to read the tarnished brass plaque identifying the building as having been designed by a famous New Orleans architect, James Gallier Jr.
Marjo had said she would leave a key in the mailbox for Luc, but the door was already open when they arrived, so they walked in.
“This is gorgeous,” Melanie said, gawking at the opera house’s faded elegance. “Imagine what it must have been like in its glory days.”
“The city is hoping to see it like that again. If the festival is a success, it should draw a lot of musicians and music lovers. The idea is that the opera house will be a center for Cajun and zydeco music-sort of a mini-Grand Ole Opry for the region.”
“I can definitely see that.” After locating all the working electrical outlets, Melanie took out a tape measure and checked the dimensions of the lobby. “It’ll be a tight fit, serving a sit-down dinner for fifty, but it’s doable. Have you rented the tables and chairs?”
“And the linens, china, flatware and crystal. If people are paying fifty bucks a plate, I figure they shouldn’t have to eat off paper plates.”
“Excellent. You’ve thought of everything. How did you get to be so good at event planning?”
“Hanging out at hotels all my life. Watching and learning.”
“If you ever need a job…” She stopped, realizing what she was about to say.
“Don’t worry, I don’t expect the family to employ me once my probation is up.”
“Don’t rule out the possibility.”
Luc didn’t believe in a million years that his Aunt Anne or Cousin Charlotte, kind as they were, would want him back at the Hotel Marchand. Not after what he’d done.
They heard laughter coming from up in the balconies and realized they weren’t alone. Melanie’s eyebrows flew up. “Is the opera house haunted?”
Luc grinned. “You don’t recognize the laughter?”
“No, why should I? I don’t know anyone in-” Then it hit her. “That was Celeste? That giggle?”
“I think you’ll be surprised what love has done for our Grand-mère.”
They walked up the narrow stairs with the threadbare carpet to the gallery that surrounded the auditorium. The walls had been draped with luxurious silks and velvets in deep, rich colors, and Celeste and Doc were busy hanging the photographs Celeste had brought with her from New Orleans.
Although the opera house was in poor repair, enough funds had been raised to patch the roof, damaged during the hurricane, so the photos and artifacts would remain dry.