Kara Lennox - A Second Chance

“I’m fine, Zara,” she assured her daughter again. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m the mom, you’re the little girl. I get to worry. You don’t have to.”

“I can’t help it.”

She sighed, set Zara’s snack down and joined her at the table. “I know, sweetie. You’re a very caring and concerned person, and that’s good. But you’ll have plenty of chances to worry when you grow up. I just want you to enjoy being a little girl.”

“I’d rather be a grown-up,” she said candidly. “Then no one could tell me what to do.”

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Loretta said. “Sometimes, when you’re grown up, you wish someone would tell you what to do.” If some wise person had been looking after Loretta’s interests, maybe they would have told her to be more careful when it came to giving her heart away.

Her heart. No, it wasn’t that serious. She’d made love with Luc three times and gone out with him once, not counting the trip to New Orleans. She hadn’t had a chance to actually give him her heart. It was all physical at this point; it shouldn’t be that big a deal to walk away now.

But it was. She had to face the fact it was going to be hard as hell to get over this. She would have a difficult time ever trusting herself when it came to men. Maybe she was meant to be alone.

“My birthday’s coming up,” Zara said.

Thank God, a nice, safe topic of conversation. “That’s right, it’s less than a month away.” Loretta had been so fixated on the music festival-and Luc-that she hadn’t given Zara’s birthday a single thought. “Do you have any idea what you might like?”

“I have lots of ideas, but I think I want a fishing pole.”

“A fishing pole?” What happened to dolls, and stuffed animals, and all that girlie stuff Zara usually drooled over whenever they went to a toy store?

“For when I go fishing with Luc.”

“You’re not going fishing with Luc.” The words were out of Loretta’s mouth, sharp and final, before she had a chance to soften them.

Zara’s eyes widened. “But you said-”

“I’ve changed my mind. We really don’t know Luc well enough for you to go fishing with him.”

“But Kiki goes-”

“I don’t care what Kiki does.”

She expected Zara to run crying from the bakery, which was her usual reaction on those rare occasions when Loretta was sharp with her or denied her something she wanted badly. Instead, she studied her mother with unnerving intensity.

“You’re not being fair.”

“Life isn’t fair. And the sooner you learn that lesson, the better.”

Zara pushed her plate away. “Did you and Luc have a fight?”

Oh, why did her daughter have to be so perceptive? “I can’t talk about it, Zara. You’re going to have to take my word for it for now-Luc Carter is out of our lives.”

“Why?”

“You don’t need to know why. Just accept it.” No matter how angry she was with Luc and the secrets he’d kept from her, it wasn’t her place to reveal that he was a criminal. She remembered how painful it was years ago when news of Jim’s arrest for robbing a convenience store had spread all over town like wildfire.

Now Zara showed her temper. She pushed her chair back so hard she almost toppled it and stomped out of the bakery.

“Zara, take your backpack-”

But Zara ignored her. Loretta knew she shouldn’t allow her daughter to show her temper and act disrespectfully, but she was in no mood to correct her. She was still raw with her own anger, and she would probably just make things worse if she tried to talk to Zara now.

Luc was going to be a sticky subject for weeks to come-for Zara and for Loretta herself. Zara would bounce back, eventually. Loretta wasn’t sure if she ever would.

CELESTE PUTTERED AROUND her family’s old summer cottage, her mind awash with memories. She’d been a very different person as a young girl. Wealthy, very aware of her own beauty and the power and influence of her family, she’d enjoyed being the center of attention in her social circle.

A lot of young men had shown interest. The most passionate of them all, the one who’d challenged her the most, was Michel Landry. Although close to her own age, he’d seemed older somehow. More mature, more seasoned than so many of the boys she had dated. Perhaps it was the fact he hadn’t come from a privileged background. He’d had to work for a living from the time he was sixteen. He’d also served overseas during World War II, a fate many of her class avoided through various strategies. His years in the service had given him a certain maturity.

He’d been in love with her, of that she was sure. But he’d also been very aware of the games she played-and he hadn’t fallen for them. Despite his lack of social status, he hadn’t kowtowed to her or indulged her every whim.

He’d stood up to her, making it very clear that if they were to end up together, she would not be pulling his strings. He’d also been pretty firm about the fact that, once he graduated from medical school, he wanted to open a practice in Indigo rather than New Orleans.

Although her family had liked Michel, Celeste’s mother had advised her to marry a man of her own class, so that she could maintain her rightful station in New Orleans society. And Celeste herself had decided her life would be easier if she married a man she could control, instead of one who challenged her in every way.

It was a decision she’d regretted almost every day of her life, but especially recently as she’d watched her daughter and granddaughters fall in love and marry for love.

When she first got the idea to come to Indigo, she’d told herself it was solely to look after her family’s property and see for herself what Luc was doing with it.

But deep down, she knew there was more to it. She and Michel had kept in touch over the years, even if it was only to exchange Christmas cards. He’d been hurt when she’d turned down his marriage proposal, but he’d never held her decision against her. And when she’d felt the need to keep tabs on Luc, Michel had been the one she’d turned to.

She’d been terrified to actually call him on the telephone, her heart racing as she punched in the numbers, just as it had done when she was a teenager. And then she’d heard his voice-rough with age, but still undeniably, unmistakably, Michel Landry, and the years had melted away.

She’d been shocked to discover he was widowed-for almost three years. She supposed that was when the idea had crept into her mind that the embers of their decades-old romance might be rekindled.

So now here she was, and Michel had been courting her with the ardency of the young man he’d once been. The years had dissolved as they’d enjoyed cocktails on the veranda every afternoon.

And then last night…oh, my. She’d had no idea she still had it in her.

But what to do now?

She reached into the bottom of the box she’d brought with her from New Orleans and pulled out a small, framed family photo. It wasn’t one that was really appropriate for the display at the opera house because it was a bit blurry. But she’d always loved it.

It showed a group of young people enjoying drinks-probably mint juleps-on the veranda here at the house, circa the mid-1940s, just after the war. Michel had his arm around her waist, and she was laughing up at him. They looked so in love, it made her heart ache.

There were no such pictures of herself and Arnaud Robichaux.

She set the photo on the mantel, along with a couple of other family-oriented pictures. She didn’t think Luc would mind, and she hoped Michel would notice it and remember how close they had once been. Although he’d clearly shown his interest in her recently, he hadn’t said anything about love. Or the future.