Target (10 page)

“I've thought about it and I can't see how.” Until more information came from Matt there was no point terrifying Sarah. Aurelie squeezed her sister's fingers. “We should get to Delia's. Can you face that yet?”

“I guess so.”

Aurelie wasn't sure she could, but she turned the Hummer around heading towards Main Street.

“What about Baily's family?” Sarah asked. “They must have contacted them.”

“I don't know anything about that.” Aurelie looked both ways and waited for a truck to pass before turning right. Once on the street again, the town seemed too bright. Music blared from the tavern and a band of people loitered outside, some of them dancing. “I thought Lobelia was going to start blabbing all the details when she came in. But she hadn't heard much, so she was just fishing for answers.”

“Give her time. If she's not up to speed now, she will be by morning.”

“Matt wants us to be careful.” She didn't want to frighten Sarah, but these things had to be said.

“I don't see what it's got to do with us.”

One thing Aurelie wasn't going to mention was how much Baily had resembled Sarah lying there dead. “We had to go to the police station really late,” Aurelie said. “Joan Reeves and her sidekick showed up.”

“How could they have found out about Baily?”

It wasn't fair that she'd got stuck explaining all this to Sarah. “They weren't there because of Baily. They were looking for us—or Nick, from the way Joan sounded.”

“Now I'm mad,” Sarah muttered. “All this going on and not one word said to me. Those people could have come banging on my door and Nick hasn't even explained exactly how he wants it handled.”

“No, he hasn't.” Aurelie hadn't thought of that before. “They don't know anything about our pasts yet.”

“If they do enough poking they could find stuff out. But don't worry. They obviously know nothing about The Refuge.”

That was true. “If Joan Reeves gets any inkling the three of us were at The Refuge, she'll be changing the subject of her book in a hurry. She wants to make her mark. She was just sitting outside Nick's waiting for it to get light.”

“I bet Nick got rid of her quickly.”

“He did.” Now Aurelie wanted to change the subject. “It was raining so hard, Hoover got all muddy. I had to put him in the shower when we got inside.”

“Did you manage to get Nick to help you? I can't see him doing anything like that.”

“Why not? He's a very physical man.” Her teeth closed together hard. Nick was physical, yes. Her belly tightened until it ached.

“I didn't say he wasn't. I didn't think dogs were his thing, though.”

Aurelie let it go.

A scatter of lights spread out where the trailer park was located. Set back from the road, in daylight parts of it were seedy.

“It won't be long now,” Sarah said. “Am I crazy to be nervous about this get-together?”

“I'm nervous about it.” Aurelie concentrated on her driving.

The Hummer, which Sarah coveted, was too big for Pointe Judah and absolutely too big for Aurelie, who had bought it from one of the partners in her old law firm.

“Why
did
you buy the Hummer?” Sarah asked. She had wanted to ask for months.

“For Hoover.”

“For a
dog?
” Laughter bubbled up again and it felt good—but maybe she was out of control.

“Yes, my dog who is a big boy, in case you haven't noticed. And the partner sold this thing so cheap I couldn't afford not to buy it.”

“I'm glad you watch your pennies.”

Aurelie sighed. “I didn't like the way Delia sounded when she spoke to me, either.” She drove fairly slowly, not anxious to get to their destination. “I think it's something big.”

“What are you talking about?” Sarah asked. “We know what it's about now. You already did. Baily. I don't know what Delia's likely to say about it, though.”

Aurelie considered before saying, “Mmm—no. I think she's got something else on her mind.” She took off along the winding road that led to Place Lafource.

“The Hummer handles so well,” she said. “I admit I used to feel safe going anywhere in it back in New Orleans. Have Hummer and Hoover, will travel.” She smiled at Sarah, who frowned at nothing in particular.

“I am so nervous,” Sarah said. “Rellie, I kind of got used to the idea that we're all right. I have ever since…you know. When we got away and ended up with Mary and Nick. You know what I mean?”

“Oh, yes. Count me in as one more ostrich.”

“It's been so good all these years since we went to Delia. We've got new lives and I like them.”

Aurelie said yes carefully. There were things they never discussed and she didn't want to go there now.

“No one will ever find out, will they?”

“Don't,” Aurelie said. “We promised each other we would never talk about it and we haven't.”

“But with everything else happening, it might be that it'll come—”

“No, it won't. There wasn't anyone to know. Who cared? No one. We were alone there. Almost alone.”

“Someone must have wondered once they found her. We did go to school before, so they had to notice when we quit.”

“They would think relatives took us afterward,” Aurelie said. “That's what happens. An aunt or an uncle takes you in.”

“Not us,” Sarah said. “No one came for us, Rellie. And there was her.”

“Please,” Aurelie said, desperate. “If we have to talk about this, let it be another time. But I don't want to. Not ever. I don't want to think of it. Sarah, please—”

“Okay.” Sarah's voice shrank away. “I'm sorry. I won't say anything else. You're right. Nobody knows anyway—how would they?”

“Leave it!”

“Yes,” Sarah said quietly. “It's just all the shock.”

Aurelie nodded. She could hardly breathe or swallow. “If you have to think of it at all, remember how many times Mrs. Harris told us she wanted to die.”

A
urelie caught a glimpse of the lights at Place Lafource. “Let's get this thing with Delia over.”

“Yes. I hope Nick is there.”

Sarah's guesthouse stood to the left, inside the entrance to the estate. Aurelie drove past without a glance and took the sweeping right fork in the bifurcated driveway through lush grounds. Lamps with three globes apiece stood no more than fifty yards apart and showed off the heavily laden crowns of mature oleander bushes. Through the open window of the vehicle, Aurelie smelled the rich scents of gardenias and roses.

The driveway widened in front of the antebellum house. Uplighting cast the the shadows of giant columns in dark gray bands on the stark white facade.

“Oh, my,” Aurelie said. “Look at that.”

Sarah looked. Up on the wide gallery, seated on a bench outside the open front door, sat Delia. Delia staring straight ahead with her hands pressed between her knees.

“Let it go that she didn't tell you about Baily Morris sooner,” Aurelie said. “Okay? I'm sure Delia thought someone else had. And we all thought Delia had.”

“I don't intend to make a fuss about anything,” Sarah said. “Better leave Hoover here.”

Aurelie unlocked the doors and slid out. “Here boy,” she said, looking at Sarah across the front seats. “Delia likes animals.”

“
I
like animals, dammit,” Sarah snapped back. “Sometimes they have a way of complicating difficult moments, that's all. I think you're missing some of the normal instincts most of us have.”

Aurelie couldn't keep up the sniping. Her heart felt lodged in her throat and she couldn't stop checking around in case Nick popped up from somewhere. She was sure she couldn't face him.

“You took your sweet time,” Delia said, her voice ringing out on the quiet evening air. She stood up and took long, slow steps across the gallery in a pair of high wedge shoes that shimmered. Delia liked to dress in the evenings and tonight was no exception. The halter bodice of her long white dress glittered.

“Look at us,” Sarah muttered. “We should have changed.”

“I can't worry about all that tonight,” Aurelie said.

“Don't whisper.” Delia waited at the top of the steps. When the dog galloped to greet her she did the unexpected—which was what they expected of her—and sat down on the top step to take the animal's big head in her arms. “Sweet fella,” she said. “Lovely boy.”

“He'll slobber on your dress,” Sarah told her.

Delia planted a kiss on the sprouting fur between Hoover's eyes. “You can slobber on me any old time,” she said, and got up again. “Inside, both of you.”

Sarah and Aurelie climbed the steps to the gallery, but Delia continued to stare toward the driveway.

“Are you waiting for Nick?” Aurelie asked, although she knew what the answer would be.

“He's in one of those unpleasant new moods of his,” Delia said. “I haven't spoken with him all day but I've left messages. He knows he's expected.” She frowned. “I shouldn't be blaming him for feeling the way he does,” she added quickly.

Knowing he was expected didn't mean Nick would come, Aurelie thought, not tonight. If she were smart, she'd hope he wouldn't. But there were reactions she couldn't control.

“Let's go in,” Delia said. “Sabine has cooked us a feast. She won't be amused if it gets spoiled.”

Now Aurelie was sure she should have changed. They wandered through the big hall with its cavernous ceiling painted with great red and pink poppy blooms that spilled and dripped over the tops of walls the color of pale raspberries. Stairs rose from the center to a straight balcony that led to rooms on both sides of the second floor.

The floors themselves were of the original wide wooden planks polished to a deep glow by generations of wear and careful polishing.

“Little dining room,” Delia said, lengthening her stride. Her perfect, long legs made appearances through a slit in one side of her skirt. Diamonds flashed at her ears with each turn of her head.

Sarah pretended to scuff her sandal-clad feet across the floor and Delia laughed. “Stop that right now,” she said. “You both look dreadful. Don't make it any worse.”

The little dining room, as Delia called it, was decorated in shades of green with a circular, koa-wood table laden tonight with china and silver and enough flowers to soak the air with perfume.

In the mornings the room was used for breakfast. Covered dishes loaded the sideboard, newspapers littered every available surface, and the atmosphere was casual. Growing up with Delia had been a crash course in living the way Nick, Sarah and Aurelie could not have imagined living before they met her.

In a single flash, as if through a sharp lens, Aurelie pictured a house set back on a windy hill not far from the ocean in Oregon. Weathered gray siding groaned and squealed with each fresh gust, and she reached for the handle on the peeling front door, anxious to get inside. Always small for her age, her too-long woolen coat flapped around her ankles. There were holes in the heels of her cotton socks, and a nail coming through the sole of one shoe poked her foot.

Aurelie drew in a quick gasp. She glanced around Delia's little dining room, shaken by the vivid image she had seen. This was happening because she and Sarah had done what they were never to do, what they'd avoided by silent agreement since they left that place—they had spoken of it.

A light touch on her arm startled her. She looked into Sarah's eyes. Neither of them smiled but understanding passed between them.

Carrying a silver tray and wearing a slinky black dress, Sabine sashayed into the room, a gardenia tucked behind one ear. “Mint juleps,” she said. “It's a good thing my Ed knows how to make 'em because we surely didn't have 'em at my house.” Her laughter surged. “Where's that Nick? He could get to be a pain in my rear if he keeps up this sulkin'.”

“Nick never sulks,” Delia said mildly and armed herself with a mint julep.

Sabine smacked a fist on one hip. “That so? Well, he wouldn't let me inside his place today. Did I tell you all that? Two weeks, he's made me miss, coming up on three. I used my key and yelled out like one of those chickens Lobelia Forestier's got. Cocks, I guess, and he still looked at me like he was seein' a one-legged elephant. Shut in there with that Joan Reeves and her pretty photographer, he was, and he told me there was nothin' for me to do. Ha! I got out of there quick, I can tell you. Now he's late for dinner.”

On evenings when Delia wanted something really special, she got Sabine to cook, mostly because Sabine's feelings got hurt if she wasn't asked. The rest of the time another woman, Betty Valenti, dealt with meals.

“Thanks for the drinks,” Delia said. She set her own drink down and handed glasses to Aurelie and Sarah. “These should be good for anything that's bothering us. Sabine, be a love and serve on the sideboard. Something tells me we aren't going to make this into a graceful evening.” Delia drained her glass and took another.

Sabine narrowed her gaze at Delia and the second glass. “On the sideboard?” she said, her voice reaching its rich upper register once more. “My baked freshwater bass on the sideboard? My oysters in champagne. My—”

“You are a wizard,” Delia said. “But I feel a messy evening coming on, don't you?”

Sabine studied Aurelie and Sarah, cast a narrow eye over Hoover, stretched on the cool marble before the fireplace, and looked at her watch. “Yes, ma'am, I surely do. The sideboard it is.” Sabine ran the domestic affairs at Lafource and Delia admitted she would have been a disaster without her.

As soon as Sabine left the room, Sarah said, “You didn't tell us this really was a formal affair. Now I feel terrible.”

“Don't,” Delia said. “You know I have more fun getting ready for things than doing them. I don't really like a lot of fuss, but if you never practice, you fall apart when you do have to pull off a social masterpiece.”

“You gave it all up for us,” Sarah said.

“No, I didn't,” Delia said, sweeping Sarah into a hug. “You silly girl. You saved me, you three. Thank goodness.”

Aurelie wanted desperately to enter into the conversation and help lighten the mood. She couldn't, not when she didn't see how Nick could make an excuse for not showing up at dinner sooner or later.

She took a long swallow of the sweetened bourbon and mint. This was a drink she liked, but since one of them could loosen her tongue enough to embarrass her, she had to be careful.

“What's the matter with you, Aurelie?”

Delia's question, sharp and sounding as if asked by a stranger, startled her. “Nothing,” she said, forcing a smile. “What are we celebrating?”

High color spread over Delia's cheekbones. “Yes, there certainly is something wrong with you. You've hardly said a word since you arrived.”

Aurelie looked into her drink. “These past couple of days haven't been easy. I wish I were doing better with everything.”

“They haven't been easy for any of us,” Delia said.

Aurelie turned up the corners of her mouth. “I know. Forgive me for being self-involved.” And muddled, and guilty, and for feeling…
dirty
.

Delia finished the second drink but carried the empty glass with her. “They've got to know whether or not Baily killed herself by now,” she said. “Don't they?”

“I don't know.” Panic began to uncurl.

Sarah glanced at Aurelie. Now they could be sure Delia had simply forgotten to say anything to Sarah.

Delia put down her glass. “I'm sorry. I'm supposed to be the one who holds it all together. Forget this little hiccup.” She sniffed and ran her fingers through her hair. “You'll understand why I'm so not myself—if Nick ever bothers to get here.”

“Hello.”

He came into the room. Unshaven, wearing a shapeless cotton sweater with a baggy neck and ragged jeans, Nick passed up the juleps and poured himself a Scotch. He turned to face them, raised his glass and said, “Here's to whatever.” And his gaze settled on Aurelie.

Sarah hurried into the path of that gaze and rubbed Nick's chest. She kissed his cheek and stood with her back to the room. “Let yourself grieve,” she said. “But don't suffer more than you have to. Mary's been at peace for a long time.”

Very encouraging and so darn pat.
Sarah, Aurelie couldn't help but notice, dripped over Nick, her voice loaded with sympathy. Only a fool wouldn't see what she really felt for him. Sarah was in love with Nick. And short of a miracle, all three of them were going to lose what they had treasured most: their family.

They could become three islands.

Nick looked past Sarah, reconnected with Aurelie. His mouth jerked down at the corners.

So he was hurt. Big deal. So was she. One of them should have had the strength to be the anchor for both of them and it hadn't been her. She looked back at him, at his blue-turned-black eyes. Telling herself Nick should have been the one to keep their friendship safe was childish. She owed him more than that.

He raised his glass to her alone and took another swallow of his Scotch.

“Well, now.” Delia gave her hair a theatrical shake. “I expect you all wonder why I've called you here tonight.”

Nick heard Delia, registered that she didn't sound like herself, but couldn't look away from Aurelie. She obviously wasn't any more at peace than he was. And Sarah wasn't helping him. Her almost cloying attention made him squirm. It wasn't like her to fawn on anyone.

Sabine came in with a covered dish in her hands and put it on the sideboard. One of the girls who helped in the house followed up with a basket of bread draped with white linen and smelling fragrant the way only Sabine's fresh-baked bread smelled.

“Come into my study,” Delia said abruptly. She turned around, her skirt whipping about her legs, and led the way from the little dining room and through double doors into the one place in the house she kept mostly to herself. “I was going to wait until after dinner for this but the strain is too much. We'll do it now.”

Nick caught the frown on Sabine's face and settled a hand on her shoulder. “Try not to worry about the food,” he said in a low voice. “This is one of those evenings. Every family has them.” They rarely had, but Sabine nodded as if she understood.

“Close the doors,” Delia said.

Nick did as she asked. He couldn't keep his eyes away from Aurelie. She carried a glass and seemed more interested in its contents than was usual for her. That, or she'd do anything rather than look at him.

Sarah was still with him, her hand hooked under his arm.

Delia's study resembled an eighteenth-century flight of fancy in some French nobleman's home. Since the house had originally belonged to a French family, the motif seemed appropriate. From plaster cherubs, fruit, flowers and musical instruments on the ceiling, to ornate oval medallions surrounding paintings of rosy-faced children, rococo dominated. Nick supposed the room and its furnishings were beautiful if you liked that kind of thing.