Gift of Wonder. Lenora Worth

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ