Kara Lennox - A Second Chance

“I’ll try not to.” The words came out barely a whisper.

LORETTA KNEW she’d done the right thing. But then why did it feel so awful? She had more on her plate right now than she could possible deal with. Maybe Luc was right and she was entitled to a social life, single mom or no. But not now, and not with a man who kept so many secrets.

When her mother found her a few minutes later, she was still standing in the driveway, staring after Luc’s car, lost in thought.

“Loretta?”

She snapped to awareness. “Oh. Guess I was daydreaming.”

Adele put an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “About Luc?” she asked hopefully. Adele would have been more than happy to see Loretta settled down with a nice son-in-law and a few more grandkids.

“No,” Loretta said quickly, then laughed at herself. “Okay, yes, I was thinking about Luc. What do you suppose it is about me that craves something different? Why was Jim so alluring when the local boys left me bored to tears? Why does the mysterious man from out of town have such appeal?”

“Lord, Loretta, you can’t compare Luc to Jim. They’re like two different species. Luc is responsible, stable. A businessman. There’s nothing wrong with Luc.”

“Except that I don’t know anything about him. And he has a girlfriend.”

“He’s Celeste Robichaux’s- He has a girlfriend? Who?”

“Someone out of town. He says they’re not committed. He was all mysterious about her. I don’t need that. I don’t want mystery or intrigue or adventure. I don’t want a man, period. I have enough to keep me busy.”

Adele chuckled. “Sometimes what we want and what we get are two different things. He’s awfully handsome. And he’s very good with Zara. Not every man gets on with children, you know.”

“Mama! Don’t encourage me. I’ve only just made up my mind to leave it be, and you’re weakening my resolve.”

“I’m just saying, is all.”

WHEN LUC GOT BACK to the B and B, he found Doc on the veranda with his guests, two elderly sisters from Baton Rouge. They were all drinking mint juleps and seemed to be getting along very well.

“Luc,” said Isabel, the older sister. Or maybe it was Ernestine. He got the two mixed up. “You didn’t tell us about the complimentary cocktails on the veranda. What a delightful surprise!”

How did he tell Isabel, or Ernestine, that the mint juleps were as much a surprise to him as to the guests?

“And such delightful company,” said Ernestine, simpering a bit. “Are you and the doctor related?”

“Uh, no.”

“But I knew his grandmother quite well,” Doc said with obvious fondness. “She and I used to sit on this very veranda when we were hardly more than teenagers, and sip mint juleps just like these.”

“Those were different times,” said Isabel dreamily. “When men were gentlemen.”

“Speaking of being a gentleman…” Doc pushed up from his rocking chair. “Excuse me, ladies.” He motioned for Luc to follow him inside. They entered the parlor, but neither of them sat down. Doc gave Luc a hard stare. “How was your day?”

Luc sighed. “You were right. Loretta doesn’t need a man in her life, and I’m not sure she’d let one in, anyway.”

“What happened?”

“I did exactly what you told me not to do. And it was a mistake.” Luc paused. “I made her cry.”

“Why? How? Damn it, Luc-”

“Chill out, I didn’t do anything wrong. I just stirred up some feelings she wasn’t ready to deal with.” He set the box of honey on the table. “Don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson. From now on it’s strictly hands off. Not that I don’t wish it could be otherwise.”

LUC TRIED TO RECONCILE himself with that decision. He tried hard. But there was no way to avoid Loretta when she delivered baked goods to his home every morning and talked to him at least twice a day regarding the VIP dinner, which would be staged at the town’s almost 200-year-old opera house.

She kept their conversations businesslike-overly so, in fact-and he got the idea she was every bit as uncomfortable as he was. But she was bound and determined to make the dinner a success and raise money for the opera house renovation, so talking with him was a necessity.

When the phone rang just after lunch on a Wednesday the week after their trip to New Orleans, Luc fully expected it to be Loretta, and he braced himself for his reaction. Just the sound of her voice did provocative things to him these days.

“La Petite Maison,” he said into the phone.

“Luc. What are you doing to promote the bed and breakfast at the Cajun music festival?”

“ Grand-mère. How nice to hear from you.” And how typical of her not to start the conversation with any pleasantries. She never minced words, his grandmother.

“I just heard they’re expecting thousands of people at the festival. People who will drive all that way to hear a bunch of fiddle-playing would also be interested in our bed-and-breakfast. The Hotel Marchand is an official sponsor now. I don’t want La Petite Maison to be left out.”

“I was planning on having plenty of brochures printed up-”

“Not good enough. We must have a presence. Our B and B is one of the most visible, profitable businesses in Indigo.”

“Ooookay.” Actually, some of the ideas Adele Castille had mentioned were swimming around in Luc’s brain. He was always looking for ways to give his customers added value, so they would want to come back-and tell all their friends. “We can sponsor historic walking tours of Indigo. This town is packed with history.” The tragically romantic story behind the opera house was a doozy. “I can recruit some of the local teenagers to be guides.”

“Go on,” Celeste said, indicating neither approval nor disapproval.

“We can advertise our bayou cocktail cruises.”

Long silence. “When did we institute cocktail cruises?”

“We haven’t yet. We need a boat.”

“Mmm-hmm. What else?”

“Loretta, the woman who provides our baked goods, will have a booth,” he continued reluctantly. “She’s offered to share her space with me. She’s giving away free samples of her breads, which would be great advertising for the B and B.”

“How much does this booth cost?”

He named the very modest price.

“Get two. Or three. I want you to proceed with these ideas, Luc. Both Robichaux and Blanchard used to be important names in Indigo. We can’t simply let others lead the way. Do what you must, within reason, to ensure La Petite Maison is visible. I’ll send you some things you can use to decorate your booth. You can make it like a little museum. And look around for a boat. We used to have one when I was a girl, and all the young people would pile in for moonlight rides…” She halted the dreamy memory abruptly. “I want a progress report in a week’s time.” Not waiting for Luc to agree, she hung up.

“Oh, boy,” Luc muttered. As if he didn’t have enough to do helping out with the VIP dinner, he had shop for a boat, print up more advertising brochures-and turn an ordinary festival booth into a museum.

Celeste didn’t ask for much.

His first order of business was to call Loretta, a task he couldn’t help but look forward to. He took the cordless phone to the laundry room. Sheets and towels were in constant need of attention, and Luc had gotten into the habit of throwing in a load when he was on the phone. He dialed Loretta’s number from memory. Not that he’d had occasion to call her often, but he’d unwittingly memorized everything about Loretta. He even knew the license plate on her car.

“Indigo Bakery.”

“Loretta.” He loved saying her name, and he couldn’t help that he spoke it like a lover.