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  Confederate jasmine climbed the walls and twined around the pillars and windows. The scent was so heady, Darby felt light-headed as she and Ben moved toward the front door. The lobby, while huge, held only a circular desk, where a lone man sat with an open book, a phone console, and a computer. Ben walked toward the desk, his stride swift and sure, his shoulders stiff with resolve. He reached for the open registry, scrawled his name, then waited while Darby wrote her name. Somehow or other, Darby found her hand in Ben’s. It felt right. Later she would think about that moment.

  The receptionist looked at the signatures and nodded. “Take the elevator to the eighth floor. I’ll call to tell them you’re on your way up, Mr. Gunn.”

  A young man, probably a summer intern, judging from his eagerness, greeted Ben and Darby the moment they stepped from the elevator.

  “We want to see Mr. Bodene. Russ called him Bo,” Darby whispered.

  The intern stopped at a door whose nameplate said it was the office of Eric Lampton.

  “No, not this office,” Ben said. “We want to see Mr. Bodene.” Authority rang in Ben’s voice. The intern stepped back, flustered.

  “I don’t think that’s possible. Mr. Bodene never sees anyone without an appointment. I’m sorry.”

  “Even if that ‘anyone’ is someone named Gunn? I don’t think so. Where is Mr. Bodene’s office?”

  The intern’s eyes flicked toward the end of the hall as he said, “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that.” The grim look on Ben’s face told the younger man that all hope of employment after his internship was up had just become out of the question.

  “Don’t worry. I can find Mr. Bodene’s office on my own. I’ll be sure to tell Mr. Bodene you tried to stop us.” Still holding Darby’s hand, they walked briskly down the hall. Out of the corner of her eye Darby saw the young man snap his cell phone open.

  Eric Bodene opened the door just as Ben put his hand on the knob. His expression said he didn’t like the intrusion, even though his voice was welcoming.

  “Ben Gunn,” Ben said, holding out his hand. “This is Darby Lane, a personal friend as well as executrix of my brother Russell’s will.”

  “It’s nice to see you again, Benjamin. And it’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Miss Lane. Let’s see, the last time I saw you, Benjamin, you were about eleven years old.”

  “That sounds about right, Mr. Bodene. We need to talk with you. We have questions, and we need answers.”

  Eric Bodene adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead and receding hairline even though it was ice-cold in the elegant-looking office. He was a rotund little man who huffed and puffed as he waddled across the carpet to take up his position behind his shiny-topped desk.

  Behind Bodene’s desk was a solid row of plate glass with a magnificent view of the Mississippi. Pictures of the same river dotted the mahogany-paneled walls. Luscious green plants thrived in the light. His was a high-profile office even though the man behind the desk looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy.

  “Please, sit down. Can I offer you some coffee, perhaps some sweet tea?”

  Both Darby and Ben shook their heads.

  Bodene took the initiative. “I’ve been expecting you, Miss Lane. I tried calling you several times but only got your answering machine. I since learned that you were out of town. I’m sorry we’re meeting under these sad circumstances. However, it’s nice to see you again, Benjamin. Now, what can I do for you?”

  Darby moved forward on the seat of her chair. Her voice was ice-cold when she said, “You can tell me, Mr. Bodene, how you allowed Russell’s organs to be donated when it was his express wish in his living will that nothing like that was to happen. I have a copy of his will, and I also have the video, as does the foundation. I am his executrix. I was with Russ the day he signed his will. I know for a fact he dropped it off here at your offices when he returned home the day we both finished up our master’s programs. He said his father insisted on his making the will. Now, how did this happen?”

  Eric Bodene leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of his face. “Tragic, simply tragic. I was in New Orleans on a probate matter that day. Actually, I was on my way home. Russell died at around four o’clock. The police notified Mr. and Mrs. Gunn immediately. The reports say Russell died on his way to the hospital. Mrs. Gunn was at the hospital when the ambulance arrived. She’s the one who made the decision to donate Russell’s organs. She has Marcus’s power of attorney, so she was able to do what she did, and she did it quickly. I heard about it on the six o’clock news. I rushed to the house immediately, but it was already too late.” The lawyer’s eyes behind the wire-rimmed glasses implored them both to understand his position. Darby and Ben just glared at him.

  “You have to understand, there was a very small window of time.”

  In shock, Ben sputtered, “My father knew my brother’s wishes?”

  “Ah, yes, your father knew. The question I suppose you are posing is, did Bella know your brother’s wishes? She said she didn’t even know Russell had made a will. I tried talking with Marcus, but he’s…in another world.”

  “Bella oversees this foundation the way she oversees everything associated with the Gunn name. How could she not know?” Ben snapped.

  The attorney mopped at his perspiring forehead. “I don’t know, Benjamin. Perhaps you should talk to your father. I cannot tell you how sorry I am about this tragic turn of events. If you can find it in your heart to think kindly about any of this, think that your brother saved many lives by Bella’s donating his organs. People who otherwise would have died.”

  Ben was on his feet, his hands slapping down on the glass-topped desk. “It’s not what my brother wanted. He was so adamant about it, he made a video stating his wishes. The way I see it, it was your duty to see that my father and my stepmother knew about my brother’s wishes. You failed in your duty to my brother.”

  Eric Bodene glared at both Ben and Darby. “I don’t like what I’m seeing on your face, Benjamin. What are you going to do?”

  “Do? I’m going to take matters into my own hands, that’s what I’m going to do. Make no mistake, I willtry to talk to my father. If that fails, then I’m going to go to the newspapers and tell them what Bella did. And how ineffectual you were. Thank you for seeing us, Mr. Bodene.”

  “Benjamin, wait! What good will that do? You could set the transplant program back years and years. It’s a wonderful thing, please don’t ruin it. Start thinking with your mind, not your heart, and forget the bad blood between you and Bella. For your own sake, think before you act.”

  Ben again reached for Darby’s hand. Together, they left the office, neither saying a word. Outside in the hot, humid air, they looked at each other. Ben spoke first. “At least we now knowhow it happened. I don’t think Bodene was lying. Everything he said can be checked. It brings it all right back to my father and Bella’s doorstep. Where do you keep the will and the video, Darby?”

  “At home in the safe. Why?”

  Ben’s eyes narrowed. “I think you should make another copy and put it in a safe-deposit box. You know, just to be on the cautious side. I bet you five bucks Bodene was on the phone to Bella the minute we left his office. Knowing that, do you still want to go to my father’s house?”

  “Damn right I do.”

  Ben smiled. He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back. She looked at Ben out of the corner of her eye. She could see a smile tug at his lips. In spite of her mood, she found herself smiling.

  Something was happening here. To cover the confusion and what she was feeling, Darby climbed into the car, buckled up, and squirmed until she was comfortable. “I feel like all I’ve been doing is getting in and out of cars today,” she mumbled.

  Ben, his eyes on the road in front of him, maneuvered the car up and down side streets until he was on the main road again before he spoke. “Do you know what I miss about this place?” Not waiting for a response from his companion, he continued. “I miss
the river smell and the aunts. That’s it. Sad, isn’t it?”

  “No, not really. You left a long time ago and made a new life for yourself outside of Baton Rouge. That’s not a bad thing, Ben. It would have been nice, though, if you had come back once in a while. The aunts missed you. A phone call isn’t the same as a visit in person. Birthday and Christmas cards don’t quite cut it. I missed you, too. Russ talked about you a lot. Just about a month ago, he told me you were involved with someone, and he said he thought it was serious.” Darby was stunned at how flat-sounding her voice was. She looked out the window wondering how the good-looking man sitting next to her was going to respond.

  Ben’s knuckles gripped the wheel tighter.Oh, shit. “I was seeing someone. It wasn’t serious. That was brother talk. Thezing wasn’t there, if you know what I mean. Listen, would you like to go to lunch? It’s after twelve. Is Soupy still in business?”

  Darby laughed. “Soupy is an institution. Of course he’s still here. In the same spot, too. His grandchildren help out now. Claire and I manage to go there for lunch at least once a week. Sure, I’d like to have lunch at Soupy’s.” Was that a lilt she heard in her voice? Obviously it was, since Ben was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Good. We can catch up on old times. I’d like to hear about Russ, if it isn’t too painful for you to talk about him. Oh, and you, too. I want to know all about the dollhouse business, and I want you to catch me up on the aunts.”

  “I can do that. It’s always going to be painful to talk about Russ, but avoiding discussing him will be worse. I have to put it all in perspective.”

  “Okay. I think we both could use some cheering up, and reminiscing about good times with Russ should do just the trick.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Darby cried out in dismay. “Oh, no! Soupy is closed today. Wait, wait, I forgot, today is Bayou Day. Soupy will have a booth there. Let’s go, Ben. It’s only another fifteen minutes from here. The aunts were talking about it yesterday and trying to decide if they were going to go. You remember Bayou Day, don’t you? You did say you missed the river smell.”

  “Of course I remember Bayou Day. I fell in twice when I was a kid. One time Dodo fished me out. The other time I had to do it on my own. This is so great. Atwofer. Does Bella go?”

  “I don’t know, Ben. I haven’t gone in years. Diddy said it isn’t the draw it used to be. The folks are getting older and the younger ones don’t want to be bothered. The Garden Club sets up a booth and so does the Preservation Society. Some of the stores have dropped out over the years, but it’s still considered an event. There’s not as much entertainment for children like there was when we were kids. They still do the boat ride, though, according to Diddy. I’d like to do the boat ride, but only after we sample some of Soupy’s cuisine.”

  “I’m your man. Makes me feel like a kid again. Did Russ attend?”

  “No, he always thought the bayou was depressing. You know, the snakes and gators. Look, there’s a parking space. Quick, before someone else snatches it,” Darby cried. Ben swerved into the spot, straightened the wheel, and climbed out.

  Hand in hand, the two of them walked along the grassy roadway to where the different booths were set up. “I can’t smell Soupy’s kitchen, can you?”

  “No, but I can see it,” Darby said, dragging Ben along to Soupy’s makeshift kitchen as she dodged a thick strand of Spanish moss swinging from one of the oak trees.

  “Snag a table for us and I’ll get the food,” Ben said. Darby looked around and finally saw a small picnic table that afforded a full view of all the booths as well as the bayou, where the boat sat ready for customers. She laughed when Ben set down two styrofoam bowls of gumbo and two po’ boy sandwiches. “You aren’t going to believe this, but they have orange dreamsicles. Remember those?”

  “I sure do. I also remember the time you snitched six of them from Ditty’s freezer and got sick. You didn’t share,” Darby said accusingly.

  They talked of everything and nothing as they munched and crunched their way through Soupy’s fare. When they finished, Ben carried off the trash and returned with four dreamsicles. “Eat them quick or they’ll melt. It’s got to be in the high nineties today.”

  In the end there was no help for it, the delectable treat dribbled down their chins and onto their clothes. No amount of dabbing and mopping could help. They laughed in delight as they started off. Again, they were hand in hand.

  “Let’s check out everything and do the boat ride last. Is that okay with you?” Darby nodded happily. When she awoke this morning, she had no idea today was going to be such a wonderful day.

  “Uh-oh, look who’s at the Preservation Booth.”

  “It’s Bella!” Darby hissed. “What’s she doing here?” She yanked at Ben’s arm to pull him to the side of a monstrous cypress tree. “This isn’t good. The Society has never accepted Bella and that horrible house she built. They look pretty friendly to me. This can’t be good, Ben,” she repeated. “Russ was on the Preservation board and every year he blocked her plans. That means there is a seat open on the board. Quick, come with me. I have an idea,” she said as she approached the Preservation Society’s booth, heading straight toward an older gentleman who was arranging pamphlets in the booth’s display.

  “Mr. Bourdroux, Darby Lane. It’s so nice to see you here. The aunts send their regards. You remember Ben Gunn, don’t you?”

  The old man tugged at his snow-white goatee as he looked from one to the other, trying to place them. A lifelong resident of Baton Rouge and the owner of the only antebellum mansion on the river near LSU, Simon dedicated his life and his money to the Preservation Society. No one, not even his wife, ever went up against Simon once he got an idea into his head about what was good or bad for the society.

  “Ah, yes, Mr. Gunn. My condolences on the loss of your brother. He was a wonderful addition to the Society’s board. Welcome to Bayou Day.”

  Darby nudged Ben to keep his eye on Bella while she tackled Simon Bourdroux. “I was wondering, Mr. Bourdroux, if it would be possible to take Russell’s seat on the board.” Darby lowered her voice and said, “I don’t know if you know this or not, but Russell left his estate to me. Hisentire estate. I think I would be a definite asset to the board and would certainly be willing to help with some of the renovations to the older homes. I’m not sure how it all works. Do I have to be voted in or can I just assume Russ’s seat?”

  The old man fingered his goatee. “I have the power, young lady. I’ve been in charge of the Preservation Society for the last fifty years. I think you might be an asset as you say. Would you be willing to do some work to the library?”

  “Absolutely. Just tell me what you want me to do. When is the next meeting? Do you know what’s on the agenda?”

  The old man looked miffed at the question. “Of course. Our next meeting is next week. There is one application pending, by Mr. Gunn’s stepmother, as a matter of fact,” he said, pointing to Bella. “She wants to do some renovations to the two houses in the shoe. I understand she wants tomodernize them. I can’t be having something like that going on.”

  Darby thought she was going to faint. “How do you think the vote will go?”

  “I can’t speak for the others. There will be some squabbling. The vote, as you know, is secret.”

  “What do I have to do to vote this down? Are there forms to fill out? Do I just show up at the meeting?”

  “You can fill out the form when you attend the meeting. The committee will welcome you with open arms. We were just discussing who we could get to fill Mr. Gunn’s seat. That woman,” he said, pointing to Bella again, “has been asking what she had to do to take on her stepson’s seat. I squelched that right at the start. There are others who seem to think the woman would be a welcome addition.”

  “So what you’re saying is, nothing has been decided, is that right?”

  “That’s what I’m saying right now.” The old man motioned for Darby to come closer. “You might want to get your aunts
to do a little…ah…politicking,if you know what I mean.” Darby knew exactly what he meant.

  Ben sauntered back to where Darby was waiting for him. “She’s gone. Now she’s over at the Garden Club booth. Aren’t they the ladies who do the Christmas tour?”

  “They’re the ones,” Darby said grimly. “She’s buttering them up. They’re falling for it, too. Diddy called me last night to tell me she heard at the market that Bella was invited to a tea at Honoria’s house yesterday. You know how gossip is in this town. Now here she is. I guess it’s all true. We have to find a way to stop her from coming into the shoe and ruining it. Ben, can’t you talk to your father? Surely, he won’t allow this to happen.”

  “I don’t know if my father is in any condition to make decisions. I can try, but don’t get your hopes up. Let’s do that boat ride now. I’ve seen enough. Bella looks like she’s going to stay in the booth for a while. She’s spreading stuff out. When ladies do that, according to the aunts, that means they’re going to stick around.”

  Darby laughed all the way to the paddle boat. They were the only two passengers. Jethro Beecher, a thick cigar clamped between his teeth, turned on the engine and they were under way.

  The bayou was beautiful and yet scary and thrilling with the huge cypress trees, the balls of their roots standing out of the water like giant tentacles of octopuses. Slices of sunlight filtered through the trees cloaking the thick clusters of moss dangling from the lower branches in a sickly yellow light.

  Jethro removed his cigar long enough to say, “Don’t be dangling your arms in the water. The gators rise up and snap. Sit in the middle of the seat close together.” Darby was only too glad to obey the suggestion.

  “Do you remember when we were kids and thought pirates hung out here with their treasure? We used to pester the aunts to bring us here to see for sure. I love this river smell. I didn’t realize just how much until right now. I’ve just about made up my mind that I’m not going to go back to Mustang Island.”