* * *
The sun peeked over the morning horizon in pastels of shy pink and timid yellow. Callie and her crew arrived at Fleur House just as the shimmering rays filled the tall pines and ancient cypress trees along the bayou, casting out a path of light that seemed to absorb the stone-encased walls of the looming house and give them new life.
But she had to wonder if this house would ever feel alive. She didn’t think the lone man inhabiting it really knew about real life. But she’d decided not to dwell on Tomas Delacorte and his mysterious ways today.
Pulling her cranky old truck up underneath a just-green tallow tree, Callie got out and waited for the work van full of a half-dozen workers she’d hired to help her oversee this project.
“Gather around,” she called, smiling at Pretty Mollie and several younger teens from the church youth group. “Okay, we’ve talked about your pay and how many hours I’ll need y’all. Weekends and after school, of course. This is our first Saturday together, so I wanted to remind everyone of how this works. We’ll be here most of the day. My sister Alma will send out lunch so you won’t starve. But please remember to behave and work hard. The faster we get this done, the sooner you can go on home and get on with your Saturday-night plans.”
“You got any plans, Miss Callie?” one of the teens asked, grinning, his brown eyes twinkling.
Callie had known the kid since his birth, so she was used to his good-natured teasing. “No, David Lee, I don’t. Other than finding a quiet spot and reading a good book.”
“That sounds boring,” blonde-haired, blue-eyed Hannah said, one painted fingernail clawing at her spiral curls.
“You should try it sometime,” David Lee retorted. “Reading makes people smart. Oh, I mean some people.”
Hannah stuck out her tongue at him. “Then obviously you don’t read much yourself.”
Everyone laughed at that, except David Lee, of course.
Ah, young love. Callie remembered that. She and Dewayne had sparred and flirted in just such ways when they’d been in high school. And they’d married right after high school and moved into the tiny little house where Callie still lived not far from her papa’s house. Life had been good for a few years, but...life had a way of changing pretty fast.
“Let’s get to work,” she said, turning to open the tailgate of the truck so she could hand out shovels, picks and rakes. “I have a grid that we need to follow. “David Lee, why don’t you and the other boys start unloading these plants.” She pointed to a spot she’d already tilled and fertilized. “Set them right there and I’ll show you the grid once we get our tools in place.”
David Lee and the boys started doing as she’d asked while Callie and the girls gathered the tools. “We have a water jug,” Callie called out. “And drinking cups. Put your trash in the bag I brought, okay?”
The teens all mumbled and went about their various duties, and soon Callie was knee-deep in mud and manure and magnolia bushes. She tried not to look toward the house, toward that big window where Tomas usually stood. She hadn’t seen him since the meeting Wednesday night, but she knew he was somewhere in that big house, making plans for his future empire.
Hannah shoveled soil and shifted on her old tennis shoes. “I’ve heard a lot about Mr. Delacorte.”
“Me, too,” one of the other girls said. “My daddy says he’s gonna fire everybody down at the shipyard.” She stared up at the imposing mansion. “I guess he’s filthy rich if he lives here. Daddy says Fleur will never be the same since he moved in.”
Callie had thought the very same thing, but she refused to engage in idle gossip. “Girls, we’re here to plant not to stir up.”
“Is that a joke, Miss Callie?” Hannah asked, a smug look on her face.
“No, it is not,” Callie retorted. “Let’s talk about something else besides the man who’s paying us to do this.”
“My daddy said you’d take up for him,” the other girl replied. “Since he’s paying you so much money and all.”
Callie stopped shoveling and stared over at the sassy teen. “Your daddy needs to keep quiet since he has no idea what I’m being paid. I have to work for a living, and Mr. Delacorte needed a gardener.”
“Well, your sister works for him, too,” the girl said, anger coloring her words. “And she’s engaged to that other man, Nick. So my daddy might just be right about you defending him. It’s like your whole family is depending on him or something.”
“Enough.”
They all turned toward the masculine voice that echoed out over the trees and water.
Tomas was standing about ten feet away.
And he was not smiling.
Chapter Six
Both girls lowered their heads and went back to digging dirt, but Callie dropped her shovel and walked toward Tomas. She didn’t need him running interference or scaring away her workers, even if they had been talking about him.
“They’re just confused,” she said. “Don’t be angry at them.”
Tomas walked right past her to the girls. “Excuse me. Could I have a word with both of you?”
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