Chapter 6
Don’t get used to it.
Holly repeated this mantra in her mind, which was better than repeating, "Don’t fall in love," over and over. She was afraid that if she did, the idea would become ingrained and she’d obsess over trying to free her thoughts of love, a house with a picket fence and half a dozen children playing in the yard.
It didn’t help that she’d agreed to go house hunting with the man.
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up at the address the realtor had texted to Simon.
A sleek, black SUV was parked in the driveway.
As Simon brought his truck to a halt, a tall, dark woman emerged from the house dressed in a cream-colored pantsuit that complemented her sultry dark skin.
Standing on the top step in three-inch, shiny gold stilettoes, with a chunky necklace and belt that matched her shoes, she looked like a model from a fashion magazine.
If it were anyone else but LaShawnda Jones, Holly might have been intimidated.
“LaLa,” she called out and hurried up the stairs to hug the woman. “Simon didn’t tell me you were his realtor.”
“Mr. Sevier didn’t tell me he was bringing my sweet Holly Lolly.” LaShawnda returned the hug, then straightened and held out her hand. “And you must be Mr. Sinclaire Simon Sevier. So nice to meet you in person.”
“Oh, you two haven’t met?” Holly asked.
“We spoke on the phone,” Simon said and shook LaShawnda’s beautifully manicured hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“Oh, please, darlin’, don’t call me ma’am.
Makes me feel decades older. And I’m not ready for that travesty.
” She released his hand and stared from him to Holly.
“You said you were looking for a modest home. Not too big, not too little. That leaves your options open for just about anything. I’ve lined up a few properties, but it would really help if you could narrow it down a bit. ”
“I’ve never bought a house,” Simon said. “I’ve only ever lived in apartments and now the boarding house. I’m not even sure what to consider.”
“It’s always good to get the opinion of the woman with whom you will be sharing your abode.” She tipped her head toward Holly. “You’re one step ahead of some by including your woman in the decision-making process.”
Holly shook her head. “Oh, we’re not buying a house together.”
“No?” LaShawnda raised a beautifully arched brow. “What a shame, Holly Lolly. He’s such a delicious specimen. Still, a woman’s opinion is always good to have in choosing a home. If you follow me, I’ll show you the first on our agenda.”
She led them through the midcentury modern home, which had been remodeled with new wood flooring and an updated kitchen with gold accents and hardware. It was stark, a little masculine and cold.
By the time they stepped back out on the porch, Holly had made up her mind. But this would be Simon’s home, not hers, so she waited to get his take.
“So, Mr. Sevier,” LaShawnda waved a hand toward the home. “What did you think?”
“It’s a house. I liked its clean lines and updated flooring. The yard’s a little smaller than I would like.”
“It is small if you want a dog or a few children.”
Simon turned to Holly. “What did you think?”
She really didn’t want her opinion to sway his decision, but he had asked.
“I liked how they combined the old style with more modern sleekness, but it reminded me more of a posh doctor’s office than a home.
I would feel like I couldn’t relax in a place like that.
But that’s just me. You might feel perfectly comfortable here. ”
Simon stared at the house, his eyes narrowing. Then he turned to LaShawnda. “What else do you have?”
She smiled and waved a hand toward the stairs. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you.”
They visited three more homes, each having pros and cons. None felt like home to Holly.
“I’ll find more for our next visit,” LaShawnda said. “Will you be available tomorrow for a couple of hours in the morning?”’
Simon frowned and met Holly’s gaze.
“I don’t work tomorrow. If you want to look for a house, I can go along with you again. Although I don’t know that I’ve been much help.”
LaShawnda tilted her head and cocked an eyebrow. “Did you find a house today that made you feel at home?”
Holly shook her head and transferred her gaze to Simon. “Did you?”
His lip pressed together. “I’m not sure what that feels like anymore.”
“It’s simple,” LaShawnda said. “Did any of the houses make you want to go in, kick off your shoes and let go of the breath you’ve been holding all day?”
Simon laughed. “No.”
The realtor clapped her hands together. “Then we’ll keep looking.
I’ll line up a few more for tomorrow. In the meantime, you two should come up with a list of what you think of when you think of a home.
Go through each room in your mind. What makes you think of home in a living room?
What in a kitchen gives you warm fuzzies?
Do you need a soaker tub to make your bathroom complete? ” She smiled. “You get the idea.”
Holly could envision all those things, but she didn’t want to remind LaShawnda that her opinion didn’t matter. This would be Simon’s house. Not hers.
“So, tomorrow? Same time?” the realtor asked.
Simon met Holly’s gaze.
Holly nodded. “Sounds good.”
“I’ll text our starting address.” LaShawnda hugged Holly. “I’m glad you’re home.” Then she held out a hand to Simon. “You two will find the perfect house. I’m sure of it.”
Then she was gone, leaving Holly and Simon standing in front of the last house they’d toured.
Simon sighed. “House hunting is more painful than low-crawling through a mud pit.”
Holly grinned. “At least it’s not as dirty. Let’s go see Madam Gautier. Maybe we’ll be more successful countering my curse.”
After they climbed into the truck, Simon turned to Holly. “Your grandmother lives on an island in the bayou?”
“She does,” Holly said. “We can borrow a skiff from Mitch at the marina. My grandmother has her own, but it’ll be with her, whether she’s home or out visiting sick neighbors.”
Simon drove to the marina and parked the truck in the parking lot.
Being summer, the lot was full of people coming and going.
Inside the marina store, Holly found Mitchell Marceau behind the bait counter, fishing minnows out of a tank to fill a plastic bag for a customer. The scene was exactly what Holly would have expected, except for who was holding the plastic bag.
Principal Joyce Ashcraft glanced up and grinned. “Well, good morning, Holly,” she said. “Mitch is showing me how to package bait. He’s promised to teach me how to fish later this evening when he closes up shop.”
“You’ve never been fishing?” Holly asked.
“I know. Sounds incredible.” Joyce’s grin twisted. “I’ve lived so many years on the bayou and have never gone fishing.”
Mitch shook his head. “She hasn’t even dropped a line from a cane pole while standing on the bank.”
Joyce shrugged. “My dad died when I was young, and Mom wasn’t much for the outdoors. But Mitch has agreed to show me the ropes. We might even go frog-gigging.” She grimaced. “Though I might let him handle the frogs.”
Mitchell wrapped a twist tie around the mouth of the plastic bag and handed it to the man waiting patiently. He wiped his hands on the apron he wore, came around from behind the tank and met Holly’s gaze. “What can I help you with?”
“I need a skiff to get out to Mémère’s house. Do you have one available?”
“All my rentals are out, but you can take mine,” Mitchell said. “You remember where I keep it?”
Holly smiled. “I do. Thanks, Mitch.”
His brow furrowed. “I heard you had another message on your vehicle last night.”
Her smile slipping, Holly nodded. “Yes, sir. Writing on the window and a voodoo doll on my passenger seat.”
Mitch’s frown deepened. “Voodoo isn’t something to play around with.”
“You believe Voodoo is real?” Joyce asked Mitchell.
He nodded, solemnly. “I didn’t until Holly’s grandmother helped me break a curse one of the Fontenots put on my marina a decade ago.
Almost lost everything until she did her thing and turned my life and business around.
I owe that woman.” He tipped his head toward Holly.
“You be careful, now, ya hear? You, Gisele and Madam Gautier are good people. So were your parents. God rest their souls.”
Holly’s heart swelled, and tears burned her eyes. “Thank you, Mitch.” She hugged the older man. “I’ll be careful with your skiff and bring it back before this evening’s fishing lesson.”
He waved a hand. “No worries. I can always take one of the bass boats if you’re not back soon enough.”
“I have to be back for work anyway. I’m glad you’re going to teach Ms. Ashcraft how to fish.
I always loved fishing with my dad. Something about floating along the bayou with a fishing pole in your hand…
It doesn’t get better than that.” Especially when it was with someone you loved.
Her heart hitched at the memories of her and her father fishing at dusk, listening to frogs and cicadas making music in the bayou.
“Simon,” Mitchell held out a hand, “I’m glad to hear you’re looking after our girl. She’s special, like her grandmother.”
Simon shook the man’s hand. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”
Holly led the way out onto the dock to the far end, where a small skiff was tied to a piling.
Simon looked at it suspiciously. “Is it big enough for both of us?”
She laughed. “Yes, of course. I’ll get in first, if it makes you feel better.”
“It does.” He waited for her to step into the small craft and settle on the back bench. Once she was in, he eased into the boat and took a seat, without rocking it too badly.
“See? It’s fine,” she said and pulled the line to start the engine. The outboard motor roared to life. With her hand on the tiller handle, she steered the boat away from the dock and out into the bayou.
“How long has your grandmother lived on her island in the bayou?” Simon asked.