A Bad Boy is Good to Find(52)

A vision of seed pearls exploding over all the open boxes of shoes and gloves and silk stockings made her afraid to breathe except in tiny sips through her mouth.

All of a sudden the giant blue box hunkered in the corner roared to life.

“Yes!” cried Maisie, like a cheerleader. “They said it couldn’t be done, and I simply insisted they do it anyway. A little determination, that’s all that’s required to accomplish most things in life.”

The machine shuddered and hiccupped and a blast of freezing air shot across the room, sprinkling goose bumps over Lizzie’s arms.

It felt really good.

It wasn’t even all that loud.

Euphoria accompanied the icy air. No more sweat drenching her armpits and pouring down her spine! No more droplets beading her upper lip and wetting the hair at her temples! No more—

The machine shuddered to a halt at the exact same moment all the lights went out and Dino issued a resounding, “Fuck.”

“Power’s dead,” yelled Roger from the other room.

“Someone give that boy a Pulitzer,” growled Maisie. “Get it going again!” she yelled through the doorway. She tapped her foot on the floor for a few seconds. It was encased in a rather frumpy beige pump to match her slim beige suit. “You leave Manhattan, and it’s like you’re in another century.”

Would someone please unzip me? was the only thought on Lizzie’s mind, which felt as squished as her torso. She didn’t voice it until Maisie had stalked out of the room, tut-tutting about primitive conditions and the need for hardship pay.

Gia unzipped her and she sagged with relief.

“I’m going outside for a smoke,” muttered Dino.

“I’m with you,” said Gia, already striding for the door.

Lizzie was left standing on the podium in a too-tight fifteen-thousand dollar dress, towering over a tiny Japanese woman whose name she’d not managed to catch.

This was all your idea.



Con’s blood crept like Arctic ice as he and Lizzie stood in the Parish records office with Dino’s camera trained on him. You weren’t allowed to look in anyone’s file but your own, but the kind young clerk had agreed to check Danny’s file to see if it contained a death certificate.

She pulled a folder from the file drawer and flipped through it. It took all Con’s strength to keep his face calm. He held himself steady as blood pounded in his head and cold fingers squeezed his heart.

“No death certificate.”

He sagged with relief. “Thank God.” Of course it didn’t mean Danny was alive, but there was hope.

Lizzie let out a breath too. She looked almost as nervous as him, twisting her fingers together, her face white. He wanted to hug her, but didn’t.

“Could Con see his own file?” she asked, as the clerk put Danny’s away.

“Yes.” The clerk looked at him. “Would you like to?”

Not really, was the answer that sprang to mind as a queasy sensation sneaked into his stomach.

“Come on, Con. You need to see your mother’s maiden name.” Lizzie put her hand on his arm.

No, I don’t. He didn’t want to know if she was that sad woman in the letters. His memories were sad enough already.

“Okay.” He couldn’t help feeling nothing good could come from digging up the past. Who knew what other skeletons lay rotting in the muck down there? He shivered in the air-conditioned room as they waited for the clerk to come back. Lizzie rubbed his back, and he took a deep breath.

“Conroy Aaron Beale.” The clerk drew out the file. Aaron? How could he not even know he had a middle name? He became acutely aware of the camera on him, like he was being stripped naked. It’s just a piece of paper.

“Can I see it?” His voice sounded disembodied.

The clerk handed it to him, and he pulled Lizzie close so she could see it too.

“Father, Daniel Patrick Beale.” That name still gave him a chill. Made bile rise in his throat.

“Mother,” his voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “Mother, Katherine Marie Milford Beale.”

“It’s her,” breathed Lizzie. “I knew it.”

A hurt deep inside him started to throb.

“Can we see her birth certificate?” Lizzie asked quietly.

“I’m afraid birth certificates are confidential for 100 years.” The clerk’s soft voice was apologetic. “You can only see your own file.”

“Why do you want to see it?” Con asked Lizzie.

“Just to see if her father really was Thomas Milford. But I guess we have our answer in her name. The puzzle pieces fit together. Your mother wrote those letters.”

Con didn’t say anything. He looked at the typewritten name, unwelcome tears blurring his eyes and pain seeping through him. I miss you, Mom.

His breathing became erratic. He shoved the paper back at the clerk. “Thank you.” He needed to escape from the camera, from the punishing fluorescent lights, from the past.

“You really are descended from Louisiana aristocrats.” Lizzie touched his arm, making him flinch.

“Let’s get out of here.” He strode for the door.



Back at the house there was still no electricity, and Lizzie tried hard not to laugh at the exchange taking place in the unlit dining room after a hurried take-out lunch.

“Well, yeah, I probably could, but I don’t have an electrician’s license so it wouldn’t be legal,” said Con to a fierce-eyed Maisie.

“But they said they can’t get anyone out here until the day after tomorrow! That’s supposed to be the day of the wedding! We’re on a deadline here, for crying out loud. I have to be back in New York by the weekend.”

Con shrugged.

“Don’t you understand? There’s no electricity. None at all! The entire main circuit is blown. There are no lights. We can’t cook. We have no water. All the hotels are full because of some zydeco festival. It’s a disaster!”

“A propane range works without electricity, and the bayou’s out back.” Con adjusted his cuff. He looked up at her. “Maybe you could fly out an electrician from Manhattan.”

Maisie stared at him for a second. “You know, that’s not such a bad idea.” She stormed off, punching numbers into her cell.

“So much for our all-expenses-paid vacation in the lap of luxury,” said Con. “Everyone keeps trying to put me to work. They’re going to have me rebuilding the transmission on that van any minute the way Maisie’s running it into the ground.”

“I don’t think she knows how to drive stick either.” Lizzie winked. “Where’s your spirit of adventure?” She punched his arm, feeling strangely cheerful for reasons she couldn’t quite figure out. Maybe because she hadn’t had any time to sit and think.

Probably a good thing.

“I managed to get you an appointment with a local lawyer for this afternoon!” Gia burst into the room. She looked from Con to Lizzie, glowing with excitement.

“Why?” Lizzie wondered if Gia had been smoking something other than Dino’s cigarettes.