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Gift of Wonder
Lenora Worth


A church full of guests… But where was Alice Bryson's fiancé?He was hightailing it out of the Louisiana bayou, with Alice's heart and the townspeople's trust. So how could she believe in another handsome stranger who vows to rebuild their hurricane-battered community? Yet developer Jonah Sheridan promises to do just that.His motive: a secret –about his infamous biological family, folks Jonah never knew. As a reporter, Alice is determined to uncover it. Until Jonah risks everything by opening up…the first of many gifts of wonder in store for Alice, Jonah and their beloved bayou.












“Family is everything to me,” Alice said. “Can’t you understand?”


“Oh, I know all about family,” Jonah replied. He looked straight into her eyes. “My biological mother was a Mayeaux and I managed to trace her back to Bayou Rosette. I’m pretty sure she was one of the younger sisters of the infamous Mayeux brothers.”

Alice had to grab the nearest chair for support. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow. When I read the article you wrote about this bayou, it triggered something in me, Alice. So yes, I did come here to build houses, to rebuild, but while I’m here, I’d like to find out something about my roots. My lack of roots. Why did my mother give me up? That’s the big question.”

Alice’s heart turned to mush. She could see the torment in his eyes. “I’d be willing to help you answer that question…if you want.”




LENORA WORTH


has written more than thirty books, most of those for Steeple Hill. She also works freelance for a local magazine, where she has written monthly opinion columns, feature articles and social commentaries. She also wrote for five years for the local paper. Married to her high-school sweetheart for thirty-three years, Lenora lives in Louisiana and has two grown children and a cat. She loves to read, take long walks and sit in her garden.




Gift of Wonder

Lenora Worth








He performs wonders that cannot be fathomed, miracles that cannot be counted

—Job 5:9


To Community Renewal International.

Because I CARE!




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Questions for Discussion




Chapter One


“Who in the world is that?”

Alice Bryson put down her iced tea and stood against the balustrade of the old front porch so she could stare across Bayou Rosette at the man walking underneath the oaks along the opposite shore.

Her older sister, Lorene Hobert, glanced up from her cross-stitching, squinting in the late-afternoon sun to get a better glimpse of the stranger about forty yards away on the other side of the marshy bank. “Well, he’s certainly a tall drink of water, isn’t he?”

“I’ll say,” Alice replied, her hand going up to shade her eyes as she watched the attractive brown-haired man meticulously measuring off the property with his booted feet. “He has some sort of gadget in his hand. Looks like a pocket watch or a cell phone. He seems to be talking to it.”

“Maybe it’s a compass,” Lorene said, chuckling. “Maybe he’s lost and disoriented. Of course, I talk to myself a lot, too.”

Alice grinned at that. “If he’s a city boy, he just might be lost.” And the way he was dressed in a lightweight gray suit and crisp blue shirt indicated he sure wasn’t from around these parts.

“Why don’t you walk across the footbridge and help the poor fellow,” Lorene suggested, her ever-present matchmaking skills shining through. As the older, married Bryson sister, Lorene, who was expecting her first child in a few weeks, deemed it necessary to introduce Alice to every available man in sight. Even perfect strangers.

“Why would he be measuring off land with his feet if he’s lost?” Alice asked while she admired the man’s muscular, athletic frame and his shiny, light brown hair.

Lorene stopped stitching again, then lowered her needlepoint frame onto her growing belly. “He might be a surveyor. Remember all those rumors in town that some big company’s coming in to build a whole new community—to replace the houses lost from the hurricane? Maybe he’s scouting for land or something.”

Alice shot a look at her sister to see if she was being sarcastic. Lorene glowed with good health. Pregnancy sure agreed with her. Lorene’s blue eyes sparkled and her freckled, fair skin shimmered, partly from that glow and partly from the late-fall heat of southern Louisiana. But Lorene looked pretty…and in love. But not sarcastic. Good, Alice thought with relief. She didn’t need any teasing remarks today.

She huffed a breath and hid the tinge of envy she felt toward her sister. Then she quickly replaced the envy with thankful thoughts as she asked God to continue blessing Lorene. And her. While their old homeplace had survived the hurricane, not everyone had been so lucky. Most of the homes around here had suffered some sort of damage. And many across the bayou, where the wind and water had been worse, had been torn down.

“I’ve heard those same rumors, of course,” she said as she sank back against one of the wide porch-posts. “But they were never substantiated, so I couldn’t write anything based on rumors. Even tried to get the mayor to talk to me about this. But I never believed anything would actually happen, in spite of the buzz. We’ve been forgotten here on Bayou Rosette.”

“Not entirely,” Lorene replied, taking up her work again. “Jay says the word in church this morning was that some big corporation is going to rebuild the whole town but with a more environmentally sound and economical plan—seems Bayou Rosette is going green.”

“Are you sure? I think I would have heard something down at the magazine if anything definite had been decided.”

“It’s hush-hush, according to Jay.” Lorene stretched, then rubbed her stomach. “But he heard it straight from a town council member. Strictly confidential, so don’t go telling anyone at the magazine about this.”

Alice let out a groan. “You know I can’t do that without stirring the pot. So why didn’t you say something sooner, anyway?”

Lorene looked apologetic. “I forgot about it after we got home from church. I had one thing on my mind—eating lunch. And I’m getting hungry again. I’ll heat up the pot roast when Jay gets back from his meeting.”

Alice turned back toward the man across the way. “You might be right about our mysterious visitor. It has been quiet around here lately. Too quiet. Nobody’s talking at all, but I’ve got a feeling that a lot of behind-the-scenes action has been brewing. But we have to be careful about this.”

Lorene’s look went from apologetic to sympathetic. “You can’t judge every stranger by one bad example, Alice.”

“I’m not judging anyone,” Alice retorted, hating the pity in her sister’s eyes. “I’m withholding judgment. But I want proof this time.” Which was probably why she hadn’t pushed the officials around here to verify the rumors. Maybe she didn’t want to know or be involved after what had happened with the last pipe dream around here.

Lorene shrugged. “I’m telling you, things could be about to change, and for the better. We’re going green.”

Wondering how her sister always heard the interesting gossip before she did—since she was the reporter—Alice said, “Sister, we can’t get much greener.” She swept a hand across the view of slow-moving black water and bald cypress trees covered with Spanish moss, then inhaled deeply. “Smell that?” The scent of nature’s decay mixed with the tart smell of the last of the bright red summer geraniums lining the long porch. “This place is the very essence of green.”

“I’m talking about green houses—it’s the new thing, don’t you know? And when you think about it, the Bible does tell us to harm neither the earth nor the seas. It’s all about conserving energy, making the most of the sun and the water. Making sure houses are a bit safer next time a big one comes through.”

Alice knew what a “big one” meant. They lived on a bayou that fed into the Mississippi River fifty miles north of New Orleans. The risk of another major storm brewing in the Gulf, even this late in the year, was never far from their minds. Fall in Louisiana was prime hurricane season.

“You really think that’s why he’s over there muttering to himself?” She twisted to stare at the man across the way. He had yet to look up. “Do you think he’s a contractor?”

“I sure hope not,” Lorene said. “You did run that last one out of town on a rail.”

“That’s because he was a cheater and a crook,” Alice replied. And he’d sure had her fooled, right up till their wedding day. He was also a liar who’d left her at the altar after she’d questioned his motives. “I won’t tolerate any more con artists sniffing around here.” She directed her gaze back across the water. “I can’t take that again.”

“Go find out who he is,” Lorene said, shaking her head. “Or better yet, do an article on him for the Bayou Buzz. I’m sure Dotty would approve.”

“Not if I don’t have my facts straight, she won’t. She’s still a tad bitter about my canceled wedding, too.”

“Well, then, this time just make sure you get all the facts right up front,” Lorene replied. “We all get fooled sometimes, you know.”

“And like I said, I don’t intend to let it happen again,” Alice replied.

“Then go over there and ask the man what he’s doing.”

Alice stood straight up, then pushed a hand through her curly, sandy-blond bob. Her savvy editor and publisher, Dotty Tillman, would love to get a scoop on any kind of new industry coming to town. And since Alice was senior reporter for the monthly magazine—well, she was the only reporter for the small-budget local publication—she’d certainly want to write the article. But she had to be sure. And what better way to be certain than to get the news straight from the horse’s mouth? But this time she’d handle things much differently. This time she’d stay professional and aloof. And she’d make sure this one was honest.

Deciding that, she turned to her sister. “That’s not a bad idea—me going over there to have a talk with him. I’ve been trying to find something interesting for next month’s cover story. At least I can find out why he’s here. You know, just to separate fact from fiction. Off the record, since it’s Sunday.”

“That is your job,” Lorene countered, grinning prettily. “Even if it is Sunday. And I’ll finish up here and head in to get supper going before Jay comes home.”

“That is your job,” Alice shot over her shoulder with a mimic as she headed down the steps and out into the tree-shaded yard. “Even if it is Sunday.”

Her sister’s laughter echoed after her. They both kept the tradition of quiet Sundays at home by going to church then taking this one afternoon to spend time with each other. That had been important when their parents were alive. And it still was, now that their parents were buried in the old cemetery at the Rosette Church down the road and they were both grown up and living separate lives in this big, old, rambling Creole-style house.

Separate, but together, with each sister having her own space now that Lorene was married. Since there were plenty of rooms to choose from in the twelve-room house, Alice had taken one end of the upstairs and redone it into an efficiency apartment, using the old outside stairs as a private entrance. Lorene and Jay had redone the bottom floor and the rest of the upstairs across the wide hallway. It worked for both sisters, and Jay didn’t mind as long as he had Lorene to come home to every night.

A perfect setup.

Even if she’s married and happy and I’m still single and…searching, Alice thought, memories of her almost-wedding hitting her as she glanced out across the dark bayou water.

And that’s when the stranger across the way finally looked up and right into Alice’s eyes.



Jonah had read and reread the story about the old plantation house across the bayou. Had heard the amazing tale of how the stubborn Bryson sisters had refused to leave the house when a major storm had hit a couple of years ago. The water had risen to the upstairs front porch and stopped, or so the story went. Two of the ancient live oaks had toppled over. But not onto the beautiful two-hundred-year-old house. No, the big oaks had fallen away from the house. The bottom floor ruined, a few shingles ripped away, some leakage in the old upstairs kitchen, bramble and branches everywhere and a couple of snakes and baby alligators on the loose, but…Rosette House had survived and the Bryson legend had endured.

He knew the story of Rosette House—constructed on a sugarcane plantation in the early eighteen hundreds, almost destroyed by the Civil War, but rebuilt by a family member who came back to Louisiana to mend his war wounds and to start again. That created a turn-of-the-century success story about the feisty female ancestor of the two women who lived here now. Rosette Benoit Bryson had arrived a bride from New Orleans, come to live on the once-nameless bayou her new groom had formally named after her, in the rebuilt house he’d also named after her. The man sure had been smitten.

And while Rosette Bryson’s story had captivated Jonah since he’d first recognized the familiar house in the picture in the paper, he wasn’t sure what to expect as he watched the pretty blonde in the jeans and old Tulane sweatshirt sauntering across the weathered wooden footbridge. He was pretty sure this was the woman who’d written that historic account in the local Bayou Buzz magazine—an account that had been picked up by the Times-Picayune, where he’d read it with a growing interest a few months ago. But he wasn’t about to tell her that he’d seen the house long before he’d ever read her account of it. His heart boomed against his ribs as he watched her. Her story had started him on this impulsive quest to find out about his own past while he tried to build a whole new community. Did he dare ask her if she knew the Mayeaux?

No, not yet. He had plenty of time to research his family tree. To waylay the dread in that, he thought back over the story he’d read. Poor Sam Bryson had only lived five years after he’d brought his bride here. Rosette had gone on to farm the land, build a church in memory of her late husband, start a town in order to run her sugarcane mill and raise his sons to be fine, upstanding citizens—and she’d lived to be ninety-six. Very impressive.

As was the woman walking toward him now with a hesitant smile on her heart-shaped face. Obviously one of the famous Bryson girls.

The single one, from what he’d heard in town.



“Hey there,” Alice said, suddenly shy. He was even better looking up close. His gray eyes reminded her of the Spanish moss at night, full of mystery, shimmering with possibility.

“Hi,” he said, stepping forward to greet her. “I guess you’re wondering what I’m doing.”

“Thought did cross my mind.” She shrugged, pushed at her worn college sweatshirt. “I mean, we don’t often get people all suited up and running around the swamp talking to themselves. Who are you?”

“Direct. I like that.” He extended his hand. “I’m Jonah Sheridan.”

She took his hand. “Like Jonah and the whale?”

He actually chuckled, but he shook her hand and then released it, leaving a warm impression. “Something like that, yes. Or at least I’m feeling that way right now.”

She liked that he seemed nervous. It gave her the upper hand. “Relax. We don’t see many whales on the bayou.”

“That’s good. I stay in enough trouble as it is.”

She pushed at her curly hair. “And why is that?”

He held up the electronic gadget in his hand. “Oh, people think I’m strange. I take copious notes. I wasn’t exactly talking to myself. This is a tape recorder. Helps me to stay out of trouble.”

“I use a tape recorder myself sometimes,” she replied. “I’m a reporter for the Bayou Buzz magazine.”

His eyes widened. “So it is you. You’re—”

Surprised, she nodded. “Alice Bryson. The one and only. And how do you know me?”

He grinned and lowered his head. “I saw your article about the history of Rosette House a few months ago—it was reprinted in the New Orleans newspaper. I actually have a copy back in my room at the bed-and-breakfast in town.” He pointed to the house. “Since I’m a history buff, I decided to read up on this area. I was interested in how you rebuilt the bottom floor of the house after the storm.”

Alice scrutinized him for sincerity but couldn’t tell for sure. Did she sense hesitancy in him? Or was he holding back something important, maybe trying to pull the wool over her eyes? “Well, that’s good to know. My editor wasn’t sure we should run with that cover story, but I convinced her.”

“I just reckon you did.”

“I was pleasantly surprised when the newspaper picked it up. It’s been good for business around here.”

“It sure got me interested.”

“Oh, yeah—and just what are you doing in our small town?”

“You don’t mince words, do you?”

She grinned. “Some say I’m way too blunt. I just believe in cutting to the chase.”

He put the tape recorder in his pocket, then put his hands on his hips. “Well, it’s supposed to be a secret right now.”

Alice hid the excitement making her pulse race. She was way too nosy for her own good, but that also made her job a lot more interesting and challenging. “Off the record?”

“If you don’t mind, yes. It’s been in the works for months now and soon everyone will know, but I’m here to plan a new community and I just got here this morning to officially get things started. Permits, contracts and all that.”

“Yeah, and all that. We’d heard rumors but no one around here would talk. The mayor’s been tight-lipped. The chamber of commerce wouldn’t budge, so we just had to sit and wait. I don’t like sitting and waiting.”

He nodded, then blew out a breath, his earnest gaze clashing with her doubting one. “Can you sit on this a bit longer, just until I get everything lined up for the town meeting next week?”

Alice didn’t like that request. “Maybe, if you level with me.”

“I am leveling with you.” He raised a hand. “Look around. This land is a mess. I’d like to rebuild it, only better.”

“You mean, all bright and new and green, right?”

“Word does spread around here.”

“Yep. And we’re all for improving things, but…you’ll have to do a lot of tall talking to make this stick.”

“I plan to,” he said. “That’s why I’m out here talking to myself. I’ve had people out here, checking around, but I wanted to see the land with my own eyes.”

Alice didn’t know why he made her fidget, maybe because right this very minute he wasn’t looking at the land. He was looking at her. She wasn’t shy; she loved to talk it up with people and she was a born extrovert. That’s how she got the best angles for her feature stories. But this interesting stranger made her want to fluff her hair and put on lipstick. To ward off these strange feelings, she said, “You know, Einstein said, ‘Why remember it when you can write it down.’ I guess it’s the same with recording it, huh?”

“Exactly.” He twirled a finger by his ear. “Sometimes, I get so much going inside my head I go into overload. I have all these plans—”

“For our little bayou.”

“Yes.” He pointed to the south. “You know it’s worse down that way. I want to build nice, comfortable, affordable houses so that everyone who had to leave this area can come home again. And I think the local economy would be better for it, too.”

Alice stared at him, wondering why he was so enthusiastic about a town he’d just discovered a few months ago. “What brought you here to Bayou Rosette, anyway? I can’t see you coming here just because of my article, so why us?”

He glanced over at her house then back into her eyes. “Honestly, it was your magazine article, Alice. I read the story of Rosette Benoit Bryson and what you wrote about the house, but you also wrote about the history of your family…and about how dire things were after the hurricane hit. You said you wanted people to know about your bayou and your town, you wanted them to remember the past so they could rebuild for the future. That’s kinda the way I think, too. After I read it, I did my research and I knew I had to come down here and meet Rosette’s descendants. Especially the one who’d written with such pride about her ancestors. Your article made me want to do something to help this community.”

Alice didn’t know how to respond to that. So she just said, “Thank you. But it has to be more than that.”

He leaned forward, his expression solemn and sure. “It’s a whole lot more, yes. But for now, I can honestly say you’re the main reason I’m here.”




Chapter Two


“I beg your pardon? What do you mean, I’m the main reason you’re here?” She stepped closer. “You said there was a lot more to it and I think I need to know what that means.”

Jonah slapped at a mosquito buzzing by his ear. He shouldn’t have blurted that out, but it was the truth. Well, part of the truth, at least. But since she looked as if she might bolt away like a frightened doe, he tried to explain. “Your article, I mean. I told you I’m a history buff and reading your article made me want to see more of Bayou Rosette. And because of that, I decided to invest in this place.”

She looked doubtful. “So, let me get this straight. You read my article and that caused you to want to build houses across from Rosette House?”

“Yes.” He wasn’t one for sweating under pressure, but the way her big blue eyes filled with distrust made him think he was on a witness stand. What would she say if he told her the complete truth of why he was here—that he was pretty sure his relatives had once lived across the bayou from her, right here where they were standing. Since he couldn’t begin to tell her something he wasn’t even sure of himself, he only said, “Your words inspired me.”

That much was true. But more importantly, her thorough history had convinced Jonah he’d finally found a link to his past.

She burst out laughing. “Now, that’s a new one.”

“What do you mean?”

She wiped at her eyes and grinned at him. “Do you honestly expect me to believe my little feature article on the history of this house and this backwater bayou inspired you to want to come here and build houses and do good for our little town?”

“Well, yes, but when you put it like that—”

“Where exactly did you come from, anyway?”

“Shreveport,” he said, hitting at the buzz in his ear again. “These mosquitoes are getting worse now that dusk is coming.”

“Bring bug spray next time,” she suggested, her hands on her hips. “What do you do in Shreveport—besides being a history buff?”

“I’m a builder and an architect. I own a land development company—JS Building and Development, Inc. I buy up property and redevelop it.”

Her eyes narrowed, then brightened with a dangerous glint. “Well, at least you have the right credentials.”

“Yes, I do. I’ve built office complexes and parks. I helped remodel a whole building in downtown Shreveport a couple of years ago. It’s a complete model for green living.”

“Green living sure is the buzzword with you. Even more buzzy than these pesky mosquitoes.”

“It’s a good way to rebuild, don’t you think?”

“I’m still trying to decide, but it sounds reasonable.”

Thinking he was making some headway, he hit at a mosquito on his jacket sleeve and sent the poor creature to its demise. He wasn’t ready to explain how seeing this particular house on a newspaper page had caused him to drop everything and head south. That was personal. Too personal. Especially when she was glaring at him with what looked like deadly intent.

He tried again. “I want to help this community. And I’ve done studies, I’ve researched this area’s economy and I’ve talked to several local businessmen and officials. They’ve all grilled me about budgets and permits and codes and economic impact, but you’re the first person to question my motives.”

She pushed at her unruly golden hair. “Maybe that’s because I’m the person living right across the water. Maybe because I like things the way they are—nice and quiet and private.”

“But…you had neighbors before.” He pointed to the remains of a small cottage around the curve in the bayou. He knew she’d had neighbors. He’d fully researched her former neighbors while trying to find his relatives. “Don’t you want neighbors again?”

She looked at him then glanced around. “I don’t know. Where we’re standing has always been kind of empty and overgrown, but I got used to it that way. I think someone lived over here long ago, but that family moved away before I was even born.”

“Did your families get along?”

She put her hands on her hips, probably wondering what kind of question that was for a developer to be asking. “Not always, but we managed. Some of our past neighbors haven’t been exactly friendly, according to my older sister. It’s kinda pleasant out here now. Or it was until today.”

“You can’t be serious?”

She shook her head and finally smiled. “I’m just messing with you on that account. Yes, I miss all of the old neighbors—the ones I remember from around the bend here. A lot. But…I’m not so sure I want a whole new community right across from my house. And I’m really not sure about you and why you want to build here. Can’t you find work up in Shreveport?”

“Yes, I have plenty of work. And my employees are working around the clock on several different projects, including this one. We’re solid.”

“Uh-huh. So solid you dropped everything to rush down here and measure land right across from my home.”

“It wouldn’t be directly across from you,” he said. “I see this as a good investment, an economic prospect that will create jobs and housing. But it shouldn’t interfere with your property at all—I was actually measuring right here for a park, maybe. A small park with a swing and benches and a walking trail leading to the homes. But I do plan on buying up the land next to yours. The actual community would be around the curve in the bayou.”

“But what about this land we’re standing on? How are you gonna buy it and build a park on it? Like I said, the people who lived here moved away a long time ago. And since then, this land has turned into part of the swamp.”

Jonah gave her the barest of answers. “They sold it to someone else when they left. I had one of my brokers track down that owner and we made him an offer. He seemed glad to be rid of it.”

“Yes, I imagine he is at that. I never knew who bought it from the Mayeaux. Whoever it was didn’t bother to mow it or keep it clean. Somebody did finally come and take away what was left of the old house after the hurricane.”

Jonah tried not to flinch. She’d just verified what he needed to know. The Mayeaux family had lived right here on this land at one time. But he’d bought it from someone else. And now it was his. Kind of ironic and all the more proof that he was meant to be here. “I’ll keep it clean, I can promise you that. It’s gonna look a lot better once we get this subdivision up.”

“That’s good. It tends to draw snakes and other creepy things.” She turned to leave. “Now go on back to the Bayou Belle Inn and put some calamine lotion on those bug bites.”

Jonah’s relief was instant but he hid it behind trying to win her over. He would have thought she’d be the first one in line behind him on this project. “Hey, wait. Don’t you want to hear more?”

“I think I’ve heard enough. You’re going to come in and rebuild this community. That’s good for everyone, I’d think.”

She wasn’t as excited as he’d hoped. “I’ll be right here for the duration, if you have any questions. And I’ll keep tabs on things long after we’re finished, of course. This project means—”

She whirled then, her eyes bright with misgivings. “What does it mean—for you? I know what it will mean to the people of this town and I truly hope you succeed, because we need a little hope around here.”

Seeing her doubt and a bit of sadness in her eyes, Jonah followed her across the arched bridge. “But you don’t believe I can do it, do you?”

She stopped, turned to face him. Her eyes had lost some of their fire. Now she looked gloomy, her whole body going still and quiet. “After the hurricane, things were bad around here. We were mostly cut off from the rest of the world. But we weren’t cut off from the scams. Some of our neighbors got taken advantage of, big-time.” She looked out over the old oak trees lining her side of the bank. “A lot of us got our feelings hurt. We trusted too quickly, because we were still reeling from all that had happened. So excuse me if I don’t exactly believe in a pretty boy with big promises of a grand scheme.”

He let that settle for a few seconds, then said, “First, I don’t do scams. I’m a legitimate businessman and I’m good at what I do—and your entire town council has checked and rechecked my credentials. Second, I’d never take advantage of anyone. I believe in solid investments, but I also believe in being efficient, economical and energy conscious. And third, do you really think I’m a ‘pretty boy’?”

She gave him a look that would have made an alligator grit his teeth and go back underwater. “I’ve seen your kind before, hotshot. And yes, I’m learning to question everything and everybody these days. So while I wish you the best, I’m not convinced.” With that she took off walking across the rickety old bridge, her arms swinging, her hair bouncing. “Nice talking to you. See you at the next town hall meeting. I’ll be there with my tape recorder.”

Jonah swallowed, took a breath then called, “Hey, you never did answer my question. Do you think I’m—”

She held up a hand but kept walking. “You don’t want to know what I think about you right now, trust me.”

Trust her? He wanted to laugh out loud. But he didn’t dare. Before he could trust her, he’d probably have to work double time just to get her to trust him. He couldn’t have her writing a scathing article about his plans. That wouldn’t work at all. Because she might dig too deep and find out the whole story behind his sudden, impulsive need to build on this ground. The Bryson sisters obviously carried a lot of weight in this town. He’d need their support, or his hopes and dreams could sink in the water.

But how was he supposed to win her over when he couldn’t even begin to explain why he’d taken a leave of absence from his own firm to come down here to personally supervise this project? How did a man explain to a complete stranger that he needed to know about this land and this town because he might have roots here?

He stared at her until she reached the steps leading to the second-story porch of the big, square white house, then shouted, “Can’t we sit down and discuss this a little more?”

“See you at the meeting,” she replied. Then she turned and waved to him before disappearing with a flounce through the screen door.

It swung wide and banged out a warning as it fell back against the door frame. A loud warning.



“Are you coming down for dinner?”

Alice heard the hidden question in her sister’s demand: Are you coming down to tell me everything and I mean everything because I watched the whole thing through the window and I’m dying to know.

She wasn’t in the mood to talk. But she was in the mood for biscuits and leftover pot roast. “I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

Going to the tall windows of her cozy kitchen-and-den combination on the top left side of the house, she checked to make sure he was gone. When she didn’t see him in the growing dusk, she passed a hand over her hair then headed down the steps from her private apartment to the front door of the house.

The stairs leading down from the second floor made it easy for Alice to scoot down for meals with her sister and brother-in-law. But she tried to give them their privacy, so she didn’t make this a habit.

Except for Sundays. Sundays would always be family day at Rosette House. And tonight, as the sun sank in a swirl of pink and gold across the bayou and the frogs and cicadas started singing out in the swamp, she needed to be with family. Why was dusk always such a lonely time of day?

Putting thoughts of Jonah Sheridan out of her mind, Alice admired the bright orange pumpkins and lush yellow-and-red mums Lorene had arranged on a fresh bale of hay by the door. Her sister and Jay had remodeled what used to be considered the basement into a beautiful country kitchen and a huge hearth room, complete with the original fireplace and chimney. There was a breakfast nook in the kitchen and a formal dining room and tiny powder room across the wide hall on the other side of the house. Today, the tall French doors were thrown open to the late-autumn breezes flowing through the cross-ventilated rooms.

When Alice came through the double French doors into the breakfast room, the smell of fresh biscuits and pot roast wafted out to greet her and made her think of her parents. She could almost hear her mother’s gentle laughter, could see her daddy’s twinkling blue eyes. How she missed them.

But she had Lorene and Jay and soon they’d all have a baby to spoil. “Want me to pour the tea?” she said by way of a greeting.

“Sure,” Lorene said, glancing up as if to gauge Alice’s mood. “Have you been working?”

“No. Just folding some clothes and checking e-mail, nothing special.”

Jay looked from his wife to Alice, his dark brown eyes questioning. He knew they had their own kind of language, or at least he accused them of that very thing. A language full of feminine undertones and hushed whispers, he’d say. Alice pitied the poor man. He always squinted whenever they got going with the small talk that meant big talk later. Jay wanted to understand but he never would, really. Her brother-in-law was more comfortable out on a tractor, farming the land, than he was trying to figure out women. So now, in typical, quiet Jay fashion, he just sat and listened until they’d talked all around the subject not yet mentioned.

Then he said, “Let’s say grace and get to that pot roast.”

Lorene giggled like a schoolgirl. Alice smiled and grabbed their hands. And stewed about Jonah Sheridan while Jay said a lovely blessing. When she opened her eyes, her shrewd sister was staring at her. “Okay, start talking, Alice. What did you find out from our mysterious visitor?”



Jonah was stewing away over a cup of coffee in the tiny diner on the bottom floor of the Bayou Belle Inn. He was beginning to doubt his own sanity. Why had he come here? Oh, yeah. He wanted to build a new community on Bayou Rosette and he wanted to find out about the family who’d lived across from Rosette House. Two lofty notions, but he was willing to work on both—one to keep him busy and the other to finally find some closure in his life. If a certain curly-haired blonde with a hefty attitude didn’t get in his way. Or discover the truth before he ever broke ground.

“Why you look so glum, mon ami?”

Jonah looked up to find the proprietor of the Belle staring at him with a hangdog expression. Jimmy Germain had a gray beard and a little bit of gray hair to match on the back of his round head. He was short and husky and laughed with a robust belly bounce. His wife, Paulette, was also short and wide and very friendly. They made a good team and they cooked some good food.

So why wasn’t Jonah eating his crawfish po’boy?

“I went out to look at Rosette House today,” he explained. He had to be very careful what he said since the rumors were already flying fast and furious.

“Did the girls give you a tour of the old place?”

Jonah’s moroseness lifted at that question. “They give tours?”

“If you ask real nice, sure.”

“Oh, well, then I guess I won’t be invited in for a tour. I met one of the Bryson sisters today.”

Jimmy’s grin widened and the belly bounce began as he chuckled so hard his ruddy complexion beamed scarlet. “I’m guessing it wasn’t sweet Lorene.”

“No…it was the other sister. Alice.”

“Oo-wee! She’s a firecracker, for sure.”

“You can say that again,” Jonah replied, grabbing a crispy fried crawfish tail off his sandwich. He popped the spicy tidbit in his mouth and chewed. “What’s her story, anyway? I mean, I know she’s single and she works at the Bayou Buzz and all that. But…is there something else I need to know?”

Jimmy leaned close. “That, my friend, would require about three hours of my valuable time.”

Jonah ate another crawfish. “I got nowhere to go. Talk to me.”

Jimmy’s eyes shifted as he put his beefy elbows on the mahogany counter. “Alice, she has trust issues with men.”

“You don’t say.”

Jimmy nodded. “Right after the storm when things were so bad around here, she fell for a contractor who was passing through. He took on work—remodeling and such—and he also took off with some of our hard-earned money in the process. Never finished the work.” He shook his head. “And the worst of it—Alice believed in him, thought he’d come to help us. But he was just a greedy man who’d come to take advantage of us. He took advantage of Alice’s good graces, too. He had her up to the altar, ready to marry him, probably just so he could get his hands on her inheritance. But she got wind of his shenanigans and questioned him minutes before the wedding. He denied all of it, then he blamed her for not believing in him. He left, just like that. On to the next town, I reckon. Left that pretty little bride heartbroken and humiliated. She’s not over that yet. Might not ever be over it.”

Jonah pushed the rest of his sandwich away. Alice had said as much. She’d said they’d all been taken advantage of. That some of them had been hurt.

And she was the one who’d been hurt the most, from the way she’d acted today. And no wonder. A jilted bride. Jilted by a man who’d offered her hope while he swindled everyone in town. Just as Jonah had offered her hope today with all his big plans.

“It’s worse than I thought,” he said, staring into his cold coffee. “She must think I’m like that. But I’m not. Not at all. I could never leave my bride at the altar.” Especially if she sparkled with life the way Alice did, part fire and part flowers.

Jimmy patted his meaty hand on the counter, his words full of sympathy. “Yep. A woman scorned. It ain’t good, that’s for sure.”

Jonah paid Jimmy and bid him good-night. Then he walked out and stared down the long main street of Bayou Rosette. And he wondered what was going through Alice Bryson’s mind right now.

Was she thinking about him? Or was she thinking up ways to stop him before he ever got started, just to prove a point about some idiot who’d done her wrong? And why did he care, anyway? He’d get the job done. He’d build his community. He wanted to do this. Had to do it, for more reasons than he could explain or even justify to himself. But he’d never factored in that the woman who’d inadvertently caused him to come down here on this crazy whim might also turn out to be the very one who’d put a crimp in his plans. Maybe he should just go back to Shreveport.

You’re not a quitter, he told himself. You’ve dealt with much worse than a jilted blonde with an ax to grind. And he’d always done things on his own terms, even though Aunt Nancy had urged him to turn to God for guidance.

But Jonah didn’t need God’s help on this. He just needed Alice Bryson to play nice and let him do his job. And he hoped while he was here he could find the truth at last. He wasn’t concerned so much about Alice. He’d get around her and build his new community, one way or another. But he was concerned about those questions he’d had all his life. What if he didn’t like the answers?

Maybe that was why he was so worried he hadn’t been able to finish eating the best crawfish po’boy he’d ever tasted.

Alice Bryson was just one person. One very forceful person. He’d worked for months on clearing the way for approval so he could get the whole town in on this renovation. He’d make them believe he could do this. He had to. Because he needed to do this. He’d come on this quest, this journey, to fulfill his creative need to build things, but the main reason he was here was to fill that empty place deep inside his soul.

He didn’t exactly want to call it a “God moment,” as some of his friends back home might say, but it sure had seemed that way when he’d stumbled across Alice’s intriguing story. He had to help Bayou Rosette. Because he was pretty sure he came from the Mayeaux family and that this was the place where his biological mother had been born and raised, right across the bayou from Rosette House.

And somehow, while he was here he had to find out why that same mother had abandoned him and never looked back.




Chapter Three


“I don’t understand why you were so rude to the man.”

Shoving her floral tote bag and her purse into her yellow vintage Volkswagen, Alice closed her eyes and counted to ten to drown out her sister’s voice. How could she explain to Lorene that Jonah Sheridan reminded her of all she’d lost? She’d placed her heart in a stranger’s hand once before and look where that had gotten her. Jilted and tossed aside, left embarrassed and bitter.

“Alice, are you listening to me?”

Alice turned at the door of her car. “I hear you loud and clear, Lorene, and I’ve tried to tell you how I feel. The man has this lofty plan. It just sounds too good to be true to me. And I wasn’t rude. I just didn’t get all giddy when he went on and on about building a new community across from us.”

“Not right across,” Lorene reminded her. “I think a park would be wonderful across the bridge. “I could take the baby for walks over there.”

Alice shook her head. “I knew better than to tell you anything. You can’t go spreading that around. Everything he told me was off the record.”

“I understand,” Lorene said, holding the water hose out to send a spray over her geraniums and mums. “I won’t say a word. But I’m sure the whole town is speculating about what he wants to do, since I’ve had phone calls all day about it.”

“And that’s just it,” Alice replied, getting in the tiny convertible. “It’s all speculation and I’m tired of speculators and curiosity seekers and people thinking they can just come in and take over and make things better again. They can’t make it better and we both know that.”

Lorene dropped her hose and came to stand by the car. “Alice, you need to work on your negative attitude. You’ve got to look at the bright side. Our house was spared. We’re okay. And everybody in this town did what they could to help each other. What’s wrong with someone else coming to help, too? We need some new ideas around here, or we’ll keep on suffering. I just don’t see what’s wrong with that. And even though you went through the worst before, this is different. It’s a little bit of hope. Real hope.”

“I’m fresh out of hope,” Alice countered, wondering how Lorene would feel if Jay had left her high and dry at the altar. But then, Jay Hobert was not that kind of man. He had integrity and he loved Lorene. Cranking the car, she waited for it to sputter to life then looked up into Lorene’s disappointed face. “I’m sorry, Lo. I should be more like you, but I can’t see the bright side of this.”

Lorene leaned in close, as close as her growing stomach would let her. “Honey, he read your story. That means your words made a difference to someone, and this particular someone isn’t a fly-by-night drifter out to do us in. Didn’t you write that story so people would remember Bayou Rosette and all that our ancestors did to make this a good town, and to make people more aware that we’re still alive and kicking around here?”

Alice looked out over the garden, remembering her parents sitting in the old swing, smiling and giggling. The yard was becoming dormant now, shutting down for fall and winter. She wished she could just shrink away and hibernate, too. Why was she being so stubborn about this? “Yes, I did write about our history to attract visitors. I just wanted people to see us, to notice us.”

Lorene rested her hand on her stomach. “Well, somebody did. And I say more power to the man.”

“Power—that’s what scares me,” Alice replied. Then she patted her sister’s hand. “I’ve got to get to work. I’m sure Dotty will be all over this like a duck on a june bug. I might not like the man, but if anyone gets this story, it’s gonna be me. I have to convince Dotty of that.”

“You’ll do it justice, I know,” Lorene said. “You’re always fair. Just try to have an open mind, okay?”

“Okay, all right,” Alice said as she shifted into Reverse and backed the car out of the driveway. “I’ll behave, I promise.”

Lorene didn’t look so sure. Alice had given her sister plenty of reason to doubt over the years since their parents had died in a car wreck out on the interstate. Alice had been thirteen, Lorene eighteen, when it had happened. They had clung together and refused to leave their home even though friends and relatives from around the state had offered them shelter. Lorene had finished high school, but instead of going to Tulane as she’d always dreamed, she had taken classes at a nearby community college so she could stay with Alice. Then she had worked it out so that a retired aunt could come and help out with Alice while Lorene worked at night at a local restaurant. Somehow, between the modest inheritance their parents had left and their combined work money, they’d managed to hang on to their house and land—even through a major storm and even through Alice’s devastation after Ned Jackson’s lies.

So much sacrifice. Lorene had worked at night to make extra money, just so they could keep Rosette House and so Alice could get the degree at Tulane that Lorene never had the chance to pursue. Between her scholarships and her own job, Alice had managed to get through college, but she came home the minute she graduated, armed with a journalism degree and a restless spirit. She didn’t want to be anywhere else, she reminded herself now. She owed her sister so much. Maybe she could try to change her attitude, for Lorene’s sake, at least. And to remind herself that she’d come home hoping to make changes, hoping to create her own niche here in the place she loved.

What if Jonah Sheridan could help her do that? Would that be so wrong? Alice didn’t have the same strong convictions as her sister. She prayed, same as Lorene, but she wasn’t so sure her requests were always as pure as her sister’s. But in spite of her doubts and her cynical nature, Alice still held out hope, too. She didn’t like to admit that, but if she looked closely she knew she’d find a little glimmer of hope somewhere deep inside her bruised heart. How else could she have written that story only months after Ned had broken her heart? She wasn’t so sure she was ready to nurture that hope, though.



“We need to follow up on this, Alice,” Dotty Tillman said later that morning. “You need to follow up on this. So why are you sitting here?”

Alice lifted an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting I stalk the man, Dotty?”

Dotty stuck her pen into the thick auburn-colored bundle of wiry hair surrounding her café-au-lait face, then looked down through her pink bifocals. “Isn’t that what a good reporter does?”

Alice was suddenly having doubts regarding her abilities to remain neutral about Jonah Sheridan. “But…by the time our story comes out next month, he might be long gone anyway.”

Dotty again looked through her bifocals, a hand moving in the air. “Okay, kid, what’s really going on? You come in here and tell me about this Jonah Sheridan person and how he’s out to rebuild practically the whole town, but you don’t have that enthusiasm I like in a reporter. In fact, you seem downright depressed about this scoop. Spill it, Alice.”

Alice sank back in her chair then glanced out the front window of the tiny cottage where the Bayou Buzz offices were located on Bayou Drive. Everything around here seemed to have the word bayou in it, one way or another. Maybe because all the people around here had bayou blood running through their veins. She could see the Bayou Belle Inn across the square.

The blue Victorian house that had become an inn and restaurant over twenty years ago sat back from the road, surrounded by ancient live oaks and tall magnolias on the street side and bald cypress trees and trailing bougainvillea vines on the bayou side. Leaves from the nearby red oaks and tallow trees floated by in graceful symmetry each time the fall wind blew. Alice shivered, feeling that wind like a warning inside her soul.

“I guess I don’t buy it,” she finally admitted. “He just shows up one day all gung ho about a place he’s never even seen before. I don’t trust this man.”

Dotty let out a huff of breath. “Suga’, you don’t trust any man, not since—”

“Don’t remind me,” Alice said, getting up to pace around the square office, where her own big desk behind the reception counter served as her home away from home. “I don’t want to make the same mistake twice, Dotty. I vouched for Ned. I convinced people to hire him. And even though Jonah Sheridan seems like the real deal, I just can’t get excited about this. Maybe I am being too negative, but it’s hard right now.”

Dotty dropped her glasses on Alice’s desk. Her gold hoop earrings shimmied as she shook her head. “We all make mistakes, you know. Especially when it comes to men.”

“Is that why you’ve never married?” Alice asked, hoping to glean a bit of information from her tight-lipped boss. No one really knew much about Dotty, except that she had grown up in Texas and lived in New Orleans until a few years ago. She’d started a multicultural magazine there, but something had gone wrong and she’d wound up here. A blessing for Alice, since she’d needed a job, but a mystery for the whole town. More fat to chew, more fodder for bayou legends. “Dotty?”

Dotty’s exotic chocolate-colored eyes widened. “We were talking about you, kid, not me.”

And that was as far as she usually got with lovable, stubborn, opinionated, exotic Dotty. No denial, no explanation. Dotty didn’t talk about Dotty. But she lived to write the truth about everyone else.

“I’ll get the story. You know that,” Alice said, wishing Dotty would allow other human beings close. Her boss was a loner. And she never darkened the church doors. Dotty didn’t seem to need God in her life. And that made Alice sad. And determined to help her friend and mentor.

“I want the story, no doubt,” Dotty said, getting back to business. “But I want a good, solid story. Not just some notes and an attitude. Get to the bottom of this, Alice. Find out what’s behind Jonah Sheridan’s driving need to come to a town he’d never even visited and help us rebuild. Does he have some gold stashed away to help the poor and needy? Or does he have some other reason for wanting to do this? You need to find out, because we both know there’s always more to the story.”

“I will,” Alice said, but her heart hammered like loose tin hitting against a barn roof, fast and steady. “I didn’t say I had to like the man to get to the truth.”

“No, you sure didn’t,” Dotty replied, her expression smug and sure. “You didn’t have to. Apparently, our Mr. Sheridan got to you in a big way.”

Alice shook her head. “No, he didn’t. He did not. He just got my feathers ruffled with all his pie-in-the-sky talk.”

“And maybe with his crisp brown hair and lady-killer smile?” Dotty asked, staring beyond where Alice stood with her back to the window. “Or maybe the way he walks all loose-limbed and laid-back?”

“You’ve seen him?” Alice wanted to bite her tongue. She’d just verified that she agreed with Dotty’s spot-on description by blurting out the question.

“Yep,” Dotty replied without missing a beat. “Up close, too.”

“When?”

“About two minutes ago, when he started walking across the street toward our front door.”

Alice whirled around in shock just as the man himself opened the door and looked up to find her staring at him.



Jonah’s surprise caused him to inhale a deep breath. “Uh, hello, ladies.” He could tell they’d been discussing him, since one looked guilty and the other one looked amused.

The guilty one—the one with the blond curls dancing around her high cheekbones—sank back against a cluttered desk. “What brings you to see us, Mr. Sheridan?”

“It’s Jonah,” he said, leaning against the tall receptionist’s counter. “I came by to see if we could talk.”

The amused one got up and came around the desk to extend her hand. “I’m sorry. Our receptionist is out on an errand. I’m Dotty Tillman, publisher and owner of the Bayou Buzz. And you’re just the man we wanted to see.”

He smiled, thinking this was a very good sign. He’d thought about how to deal with Alice Bryson, and he’d decided to gain her trust before she decided to delve too heavily into him and his past and his future. He had to keep her close so she wouldn’t dig too deep. “Great, because I wanted to see you, too.” He shook Dotty’s hand but he kept his eyes on Alice. “If you’re not busy.”

“We are,” Alice said, folding her arms across her midsection in a hostile stance.

“We are not,” Dotty replied as she cut her gaze to Alice. “Come on back and have a seat, Jonah. Maybe you can fill us in on all these rumors. Tell us a little bit more about your plans for this area.”

Seeing the perturbed look on Alice’s face, Jonah walked past her and settled down on a high-backed floral chair. “That’s why I’m here, actually. I plan on giving the local weekly paper an interview, but I wanted to offer y’all the chance for an all-out, in-depth exclusive on this project. That way, your story will hit at just about the time we get things going on the property.”

Dotty grinned big, her dark eyes beaming with glee. “Funny, that’s exactly what we were talking about. I just assigned Alice to cover you—I mean, to cover your project. I wanted her to find out all she could so our readers will get the big picture on this.”

“I’m willing to allow that,” Jonah replied. This was going better than he’d imagined. “I want y’all to understand the importance of this plan.”

Alice didn’t move. She didn’t even seem to be breathing. She just stared at both of them as if she were caught in some sort of trap. And maybe he was entrapping her. She wanted a story and he wanted her approval. This seemed the best way toward achieving both.

“Alice, you heard the man,” Dotty said. “So what’s the plan, Jonah?”

He leaned forward, cupping his hands together. “I think it would be a good idea for Alice to shadow me while I’m here over the next few weeks.” He met her heated gaze with a determined look. “I’ll give you full access to my reports, my blueprints and my construction plans, then you can decide what kind of spin you want to put on the story.”

“And you won’t force me to sugarcoat it?”

“Not at all. I’m sure you’ll be so impressed that you’ll want to write a glowing report.”

“Mighty confident, isn’t he?” Dotty asked with a wink.

“Yes, mighty.” Alice sliced him with her glare. “What’s the name of your project?”

Surprised at that question coming out of the blue, he said, “I haven’t really given it a name yet. I wanted to come down here first, get a feel for things.”

“Uh-huh. And what are you feeling so far?”

Jonah couldn’t answer that question right now. Because he was certainly feeling things he’d never experienced before with any other woman—a sense of confusion, a little bit of awe and admiration, and a whole lot of attraction. He swallowed, noticed the room had grown quiet and warm. “I want to name this development something unique and different, something meaningful. I guess it’ll come to me sooner or later.”

“I need to know what to call it—for the article,” Alice replied, obviously oblivious to the buzz of electricity that seemed to hiss through the air around them. “And right now, I’m feeling either Pipe Dream or Scam City. How does that sound?”

“Alice!” Dotty’s shrill voice broke the tension in the room. “Do you want this story or not, ’cause I can assign it to Scooter if you don’t.”

Alice scowled at Dotty. “Scooter? He’s an intern. He couldn’t do this story justice if it came to him complete in a dream.”

“Exactly. But he might have a more professional attitude, if you get my drift.”

Jonah was getting her drift, all right. Dotty looked as tough as nails in spite of her bright-colored, abstract silk blouse and pink fingernail polish. But Alice seemed every bit as formidable in her white sweater and blue button-up shirt and crisp khaki work pants. Coupled with that chip on her shoulder, of course.

“I’m sorry,” Alice said, looking contrite. “I’ll do the story,” she added, her blue eyes tinged with fire. “But I want all the details, everything. I owe it to the people of this town to give them the truth. And I do mean the whole truth.”

“You’ve got it,” Jonah said, reaching out to shake her hand. “I’ve got nothing to hide.” At least work-wise, he had nothing to hide.

Alice took his hand and gripped it with all the strength of a vise. “Don’t make me regret this,” she told him, squeezing his fingers together, her smile so pretty no one would know she was trying to cut off the circulation to his arm.

“You won’t regret it,” he promised with a prayer. After Alice released his hand, he said, “I’ll show you I have good intentions.”

Dotty stood up. “Okay then, we have four weeks until we go to print. Let’s get cracking.”

Jonah stood and shook out his fingers. “When do you want to get started?” he asked Alice.

“Now’s as good a time as any,” she said. “Let’s start with those reports and plans you mentioned.”

Jonah nodded. “Want to meet me over at the Bayou Belle Café? I’ll buy lunch.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes,” she said, her look sweeping over him with a dare. “And I’m always prompt.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

He nodded to Dotty—who was still very amused—then stepped out into the glaring fall sunshine. Why did it feel as if he’d just been handed a sentence to be executed?

But when he glanced back through the big window and saw Alice staring out at him with that deadly blue intent in her big eyes, he understood. He was afraid of how this woman made him feel—threatened and exposed and…longing for something he couldn’t have. He was about to share his hopes and dreams with her. And she was all geared up to stomp them flat with her bitterness and her distrust of men coming to town bearing hope. He didn’t need that kind of distraction on top of all the others things he had to deal with right now.

Telling himself to stop being defensive, Jonah vowed to stand his ground. His plan was solid and he needed to concentrate on that. His personal reasons for being here weren’t part of the deal and his life wasn’t any of Alice Bryson’s business. He’d stick to the plan and be professional, show her this was a win-win situation and he’d get the job done.

And in the meantime, he’d hoped he’d be able to find out more about his real mother. Which left him wondering if he’d wind up being the one to regret this.




Chapter Four


The Bayou Belle Café was buzzing with the lunch crowd. The curious lunch crowd.

“We probably should have stayed at the magazine office and ordered in,” Alice said on a winded whisper as she settled into the booth with Jonah. “People are staring.”

“Maybe they’re shocked to see you with me.”

Alice shot him with a lengthy look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His expression went from smiling to red-faced. “I mean, maybe they’ve heard already that you don’t like me.”

Now it was her turn to be embarrassed. “I never said I didn’t like you. I said I don’t trust you.”

“Same difference.”

“No, I like you just fine so far. I just don’t know how I feel about this elaborate plan you have for my town.”

“I’ll show you my plans after we eat. I’m starving.”

She looked him over. “You seem healthy enough. Looks like you get enough to eat, at least.”

“Is that required in men you don’t trust?”

His grin saved her from hitting him with a scathing retort. “Okay, I guess I’ve been a little antisocial with you. And you’re probably right about folks—they’d be shocked to see me with any new man in town. I’m a jilted bride.”

He tried to look surprised, but his expression didn’t quite make it in time to rescue the traces of sympathy and concern in his eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Even his comment was lame and pathetic. Or maybe she was the pathetic one.

Alice shook her head. “And don’t even tell me you had no idea. I love Jimmy and Paulette like family but they sure love to gossip.”

“They just like to make small talk with their customers.”

“Yeah, lots of small talk about big things—such as me standing in a white dress in my backyard, watching the man I thought I was going to marry driving away. He got the impression I was gonna call the police on him.”

“Why didn’t you—I mean, if he did the things I’ve heard he did?”

“I didn’t tell him, but I’d already reported him to the local authorities minutes before we were supposed to get married,” Alice replied, memories moving through her mind with the crackling intensity of those falling leaves outside the big window.

Somehow, Jonah knowing all the intimate details of her sad life didn’t bother her as much as she would have thought. Had she become that numb to feeling things, or was she just glad someone else had spared her the humiliation of telling him herself?

“I told Ned the wedding was off and if he didn’t get out of town, I’d call the sheriff. My brother-in-law, Jay, backed me up on that and then we watched him leave. But Ned was long gone by the time the sheriff got out to our house and we haven’t seen hide or hair of him since. But he’ll mess up one day. He’s a wanted man now and justice will prevail.”

“I sure hope so.” Jonah smiled up at the waitress. “I’ll have the Jimmy burger with all the works. And for the lady—?” He glanced over at Alice. “What would you like?”

Alice greeted the waitress then said, “I’ll have the Cobb salad and iced tea.”

He waited until they were alone again. “I really am sorry about what happened to you. But I’m not a con artist. I came here with a whole different set of goals than those of your runaway groom. Will you hear me out?”

Alice watched his face, wondering if her scam-radar was working correctly. The man seemed genuinely passionate about his work. And the way his eyes had grazed over her just now with such a hungry eagerness made her think she might have misjudged him.

“I’m willing to withhold judgment so I can get the best story,” she finally said. “I’ll be objective in the article, but that doesn’t mean I have to agree with you.”

“Fair enough.” Jonah unrolled the subdivision plans. “This is the first phase.”

She shifted on her seat. “You intend to have more than one phase in this thing?”

He nodded. “If all goes as planned, sure.” His gray eyes widened. “There’s a lot of land for sale around here. The families who left here after the hurricane aren’t going to come back when they don’t have anything to come back to. But I hope to market this as a good retirement place, near New Orleans and within easy access to all the major interstates. Small-town living near the big city.”

“What if the neighbors who lived around the bend do want to come back? Several houses were either blown completely away or torn down. Do they have a choice?”

“They have that choice. I’m only buying when lots are available and when I can buy land in volume.”

“You mean you’re not coercing people to sell?”

“No. I don’t operate that way.”

She wondered about that, but she had to stay objective. “Okay, since I’m going to be neutral with this story, I’ll just pretend that I believe you, for now.”

He leaned across the table then flipped the plans around. “Let me explain this and then you can take it back to the office and study it. I’ve got several sets so take your time. I’d like your opinion—and not just for a good story. I’d really like to know what you think.”

That surprised her. Was he trying to flatter her to win points or did the man honestly want the truth? “My opinion? Why?”

“Don’t look so doubtful. You live here and it’s obvious you care what happens to the bayou. I need someone to tell me if I’m on the right track—the style of the cottages, the size of the lots, what kind of trees and landscaping to plant. That sort of thing. I want this to be as natural and pretty as possible while still being environmentally sound. The homes will be energy efficient but comfortable. I want each one to be unique—not just cooker-cutter type houses.”

Alice glanced over the graphs and charts and construction plans. “It was pretty and natural and unique before the storms came. I’d sure like to see that again.” She tapped a finger on the papers. “And even though I kind of denied it the other day, I’d like to have neighbors again, people I can get to know and socialize with. We used to have crawfish boils on the bayou, Christmas festivals right here on this main street with a big bonfire on the bayou, and we always celebrated Memorial Day and the Fourth of July with a lot of parties and get-togethers, and lots of fireworks.” She glanced out the window. “Sometimes, it seems like a ghost town out there. We’ve tried to bring all of that back, but I don’t think people have the heart for it the way they did before.”

She shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, those of us who were born and raised here feel strongly about this place and we celebrate, regardless of the past. But…something is missing. It’s like our heart is broken.” And she should know. Her heart was broken. Broken by lost dreams and empty promises, broken from grief and a hopeless feeling that ached inside her soul.

“I want to change that,” he said, his fingers brushing against her hand as he started rolling the papers back together. “And I need your help to do that.” He tapped one of the house plans. “I’m going to start by building a model cottage right away so I just want to warn you about that. I haven’t quite finished the plans for that one, but I hope to get some inspiration while I’m here.”

Alice took a sip of her tea. “Maybe I’ll get some inspiration, too. I need to be more positive about rebuilding this community.”

He lifted his chin in agreement. “I understand. If things don’t go well, I’ll sell the model and move on. But…I’m hoping people will respond and we’ll be selling lots of land and houses in the coming months. And after that, new business should crop up to support the new citizens moving to this area.”

Alice still didn’t trust him, but he looked earnest enough sitting there with that determined, almost dreamy expression on his handsome face. But that didn’t mean she was ready to give him a full-fledged endorsement. “I’ll help by giving everyone my honest observations in the article, stating both the pros and cons of this venture. That’s all I can offer for now. Take it or leave it,” Alice added with a shrug as their food arrived.

“I’ll take it,” he replied, his eyes crinkling enough to give her a good view of the crow’s-feet etched around them. Had he gotten those crow’s-feet from laughing or from life in general? And why did that make him so endearing to her?

“Just don’t make me regret this.”

“Never.”

When she looked up at him, he’d gone all serious, his eyes a dark, churning gray now, and full of such a sweet sincerity she almost regretted being so gruff and mean to him. He did seem a likable person and he wasn’t bad to look at—all suntanned and rugged and boyish.

Almost. She almost regretted not trusting him. But almost didn’t make things right. She’d almost been married. Her parents had almost made it home. And almost regretting things didn’t make life any better.




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