Midnight Bayou

Midnight Bayou by Nora Roberts Page B

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Authors: Nora Roberts
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over a cabinet. “This is nice work, Declan. You got a talent.”
    “Thanks.”
    “And it makes you happy.”
    “It sure does. Would you like to go into the parlor? I’ve got a table in there. We’ll have some tea.” He glanced up as something heavy hit the floor above. “Sorry about the noise.”
    “Work’s rarely a quiet activity. Lena and I will just wander along, if you don’t mind. We’ll find the parlor.”
    “You can’t miss it. It’s the only room with a table.”
    “He’s a very nice young man,” Odette commented as she and Lena walked out of the dining room.
    “He is.”
    “Good-looking, too.”
    “Very.”
    “Got a hot eye for you, chère. ”
    Now Lena laughed. “He does.”
    “What’re you going to do about it?”
    “I’m still thinking. Lord, what a place.” Lena trailed her hands over a wall. “Doorways wide enough to drive a car through. It makes you cry to see how it’s been let go.”
    “Let go? I don’t know. Seems to me it’s just been waiting. Isn’t this just like a man,” she said when they stepped into the parlor. “Living with one table and two chairs. Bet he hasn’t fixed a decent meal for himself since he got here.”
    Lena cocked an eyebrow. “Grandmama, you’re not going to make me feel sorry enough for him to cook his dinner.” Amused, Lena wandered to the window. “It’s beautiful, what you see from here. Imagine what it would’ve been like to stand here when the house was in its glory. Horses coming through the allée, those funny old cars rumbling up the drive.”
    “It’ll be beautiful again. But it needs a woman—just like that boy needs one.”
    Lena toyed with the little key that hung around herneck. “I said I’m still thinking. Chilly in here yet,” she added. “Needs a fire going.”
    “I’ll build one,” Declan told her as he came in with a pitcher of over-steeped tea and plastic cups.

6
    I t was a good hour, Declan thought. And not counting Remy and Effie, his first real company.
    He liked having them there, the female presence in his parlor with the fire he’d built crackling cheerfully and the late afternoon sun fighting through the dust on the windows.
    “I’m going to come back,” Odette told him, “to see your kitchen when it’s finished.”
    “I hope you’ll come back often. I’d be glad to show you the rest of the house.”
    “You go on and show Lena. Me, I’m going to walk on home.”
    “I’ll take you home, Grandmama.”
    “No, you stay awhile.” However casual her tone, there was a sly look in her eye. “I want to walk, then it’ll be time for my nap.” As she started to rise, Declan got up, offered his hand. And made her smile. “You got a pretty manner about you. You come back and see me when you’re not busy. I’ll make you some sauce patate —potato stew—before you get so skinny your clothes fall off your bones.”
    “I got the phones hooked up.” He dug in his pocket for a scrap of paper, found a pencil in his shirt pocket and wrote down the number. “If you need anything, just call.”
    “Yes, indeed, a very pretty way.” She turned her cheek up, inviting his kiss. When he walked her to the door, she gestured for him to lean down again. “I approve of you sparking my Lena. You’ll have a care with her, and most don’t.”
    “Is that your way of telling me I don’t have a chance with you, Miss Odette?”
    She laughed and patted his cheek. “Oh. If I was thirty years younger, she’d have a run for her money. Go on now, and show her your house.”
    He watched her walk by the trees with the spirit bottles dangling.
    “You like my grandmama,” Lena said from the parlor doorway.
    “I’m love-struck. She’s wonderful. Listen, it’s a long walk to her place. You ought to—”
    “If she wants to walk, she walks. There’s no stopping her from doing anything.” She wandered to the front door to stand beside him. “Look there, it’s Rufus come to walk her home. I swear, that dog

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