Chapter Ten
Grace Thibodaux’s bedroom, Sweet Dreams
Grace woke and stretched. One glance out the window told her the morning was well advanced.
Physical weariness had helped her sleep soundly.
Most of the time, she’d been sleeping less than even the short amount she’d become used to during the scandal in Boston.
Due in large part to the spate of unsettling events occurring at Sweet Dreams—most recently, the unsettling conversation she’d had with DeLille in his capacity as sheriff.
DeLille had said he’d take the men to the Orleans Parish Prison, but he’d warned her they’d most likely be released the next day. He’d been about to leave with the two trespassers, when she’d asked about pressing charges.
“Why in the world would they be released, when I intend to bring charges?” The very idea infuriated her.
“You can do that Miz Thibodaux.” He enunciated each word carefully, as he would when speaking to a child or an idiot.
Does he think I’m an imbecile?
“You got the right,” DeLille continued. “However, those two men got rights too. They say they weren’t trespassing. Davy, the one who got his eyes injured, he was here the day before, helping to deliver supplies.”
“I remember him clearly.” More clearly than she wished.
“Well now, he’s considering a civil suit against you for the damage to his eyesight.”
“I did nothing to his eyes.” Grace had called on all her patience to remain polite.
“I’m sure you didn’t. Nonetheless, the statutes regarding a landowner’s liability to folks on the property…”
“Even trespassers?” Incredulity escaped her.
“Even them. Those statutes are changing. Used to be that the landowner had no liability to someone illegally on his or her property. However, the new statutes say if the property isn’t well-maintained, the landowner may be liable for any injury suffered by anyone.”
She bristled. “I haven’t been at Sweet Dreams long enough to maintain the property in any consistent way.”
“I understand, Miz Thibodaux, but the statute doesn’t take time in residence into account.”
“But…”
The sheriff stopped her with a raised palm.
She wanted to stamp her foot at being stymied.
“You can go ahead and press charges, you might even win and put them two boys in jail for a long time. Howsomever, you’ll probably get sued, and because you aren’t a local gal, Davy’ll probably win,” the grocer cum sheriff said.
“That’s outrageous.” Grace glared; all semblance of civility gone.
DeLille shrugged. “I don’t make the statutes, Miz Thibodaux. I just enforce ’em.”
“Have I no other recourse?”
“That’d be a question for a lawyer.”
Experience had taught her lawyers were expensive. She could afford one, but did she want to sacrifice the time and energy a trial would consume?
To say nothing of the added stress. Technically, she herself wouldn't be on trial, but she was an outsider. Even so, Grace had had enough of courtrooms and the associated notoriety to last her several lifetimes.
“Can you, as sheriff, put the fear of God into those two men and assure me they’ll never come near me or Sweet Dreams?”
DeLille puffed up his chest and smiled. “Miz Thibodaux, you been a good customer. I will do everything in my legal power to see those two men stay far away from you and Sweet Dreams. I’ll even put a word in Guidry’s ear for you, seeing as how they work for him most of the time.”
“They work for Guidry?” Rage surged up from her gut, and tight fists formed at her sides. “I should give him a piece of my mind.”
The older man put a hand over one of hers. “You leave that to me, Miz Thibodaux. I told you before, Guidry has no manners. Well, he’s got even less common sense and is kind of bull-headed. If you make him angry, you’ll have more misery than a couple of trespassers coming your way.”
She blew out a breath, and took the sheriff at his word. Confronting a threat, even when she was upset might not be the wisest or most effective thing to do. Her contentions with Captain Flynn hadn’t produced the desired result.
However, DeLille offered to face Guidry for her. She wanted never to see the tavern owner again. “Thank you, I’ll accept that offer and wish you good day.”
“Good day to you, Miz Thibodaux. You let me know as soon as you need to place your next order for delivery.”
“I will do that.”
With his retreat, exhaustion consumed her, driving her back to her bed and sleep.
The clock at her bedside informed her it was nearly one in the afternoon. She hurried to the kitchen. Time had gotten away from her, so her plan for the day was shot. She wouldn’t get half of it done.
At the bottom of the servants' stairs, Grace halted just inside the door.
For a moment the terror and frustration of dealing with trespassers consumed her and her vision grayed.
Every wall of the kitchen was completely painted, and her equipment had vanished. Most of the walls down there had been unpainted. She’d left all her paint and tools neatly stacked in the corner farthest from the stoves. What kind of trespasser did chores?
She suspected she’d find all the gear carefully stowed away in one of the many storage rooms opening off the kitchen.
Perhaps she’d painted in her sleep or something? Wasn’t sleep-walking a sign of stress? But sleep-painting?
The dogs sniffed at the newly white-washed walls. They seemed okay.
Grace gulped down her emotions and did a quick circuit of the ground level, looking in all the rooms. She found the paint and tools exactly where she’d expected. From under the tall stove, the cat yowled.
She hurried back to the main part of the kitchen. She opened the front door, to let in cooler air, and found a honeysuckle plant. She closed her eyes. Plants weren’t threatening. “This has to be a moon-gift. Who left it? Why didn’t you two alert me?” she threw a mock-glare to Mars and Mercury.
Mars thumped his tail.
His white ear dipping toward his shoulder, Mercury tilted his head, as if trying to make out her words.
Grace smiled, and fed them. She fed the cat, too.
“I really need to give you a name, Miss Feline.” Nothing came to mind and Grace shrugged.
“I need to plant that honeysuckle in a sunny spot.” She grabbed an apple, sliced it in quarters, and left for the stables.
While she worked, she puzzled over the events of the past weeks.
The sledge-hammer. The fire. The Voodoo priestess, along with the amulet and dogs.
The fence posts. The Baltimore clipper that could not possibly be where she saw it.
Today, painted walls that yesterday were not. Lastly, the two moon gifts.
I have to be losing my mind.
Was it possible the place really was haunted?
Could a specter dig fence posts and paint walls, all by itself?
Of course not. Nor did trespassers do chores, she reminded herself.
What other explanation is possible?
She’d read about confidence artists who bilked money from gullible people by creating the illusion of ghosts and phantoms. The illusions almost always involved some sort of skullduggery on the part of a second or even third person.
Maybe that’s what those trespassers had been up to?
Who would want to play such tricks and why? That mambo woman? Nonsense, she was too old and frail.
No, Sweet Dreams wasn’t haunted, and Grace wasn’t the target of some unknown criminal. She was simply more stressed than she imagined. Good thing she never hoped for better. Hope brought nothing but misery.
She spent the rest of the day installing rails on the fence.
When she finally made her way to the dock, it was near dark.
Grace had considered taking her rifle, but even if Flynn returned, she didn’t think he was any real danger.
As for predatory night creatures—gators, snakes, and all.
They’d not bothered her to this point, so the dock at this time of night was probably not a part of their routine movements.
That scent—cinnamon and spent powder—filled the air.
“Good evening, Miss Thibodaux.”
Grace glanced to her right. Lucien Flynn stood less than two yards distant.
Where had he come from?
How had he gotten so close without her hearing?
If she wanted any chance to learn the answers, she’d have to invite him to stay. Did she want that?
***
“Would you like to sit with me a while?” Grace gestured tentatively toward the end of the dock.
“Very much, but you mustn’t feel obliged. I could come back another time.”
The corners of her mouth curved downward a tad, and she stared at the boards beneath her feet. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from anything important,” she said after a small pause.
It must’ve taken a lot for Grace to invite him closer, so Luc shouldn’t give in to the urge to tease her.
He chuckled and took a step forward.
She lifted her head, wide-eyed, and backed away one step.
He halted. I’ve been watching over her for days, but to her, this is only our third meeting.
Luc had no wish to frighten her. He needed to be certain she could be comfortable with him.
However, fright was not the only thing he sensed in the ether, where emotions lived as he did when he was ephemeral.
No, her open expression signified quiet but hesitant curiosity.
Perhaps satisfying that would lead to trust.
“You couldn’t keep me here, if I wished to leave,” he continued. “I assure you. Besides, the important thing I had to do tonight was visit with one of the Thibodaux ladies.” He stepped forward again.
That dazzling smile appeared again, and she blushed like a spinster. “I’m a Thibodaux lady.”
What was wrong with the gentlemen in Boston that they could not see how intriguing, how alluring she was?
Their loss was his gain.
“Then you are precisely who I’ve been looking for.”