Please Remember This (9 page)

A shaft of light shot across the floor, interrupting him. The door had opened. “Ned?” It was a man’s voice. “Are you here? I saw your truck. Are you stealing more tables?”

“This is my brother, Phil,” Ned told Tess. “Come meet him. He’s the one to blame for all the development outside.”

Phil Ravenal was taller than his brother. His face was narrower and his hair a richer, more golden
color. He was wearing crisp gray trousers and a white business shirt. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up, and the collar was open. The fit of his clothes appeared better than the fit of Ned’s, in part, no doubt, because Phil’s posture was better. Ned introduced them.

“Lanier?” Phil touched Tess’s arm with his left hand as he shook her right. “You must be one of us.”

One of us.
Tess had never, not once, heard anyone use that phrase to describe her. She had always been the different one, the one raised by grandparents.

Phil Ravenal was handsome. There was no other word for it. His features were even, his cheekbones were strong, and his jaw was firm. It might have taken her twenty minutes to realize that she liked Ned, but with Phil … her reaction was immediate. He was an extremely personable man.

“So Ned has been telling me,” she said. “I didn’t know I had family on the riverboat. It’s very exciting.”

And if the family history was exciting, what about this pair of brothers? She couldn’t help finding them interesting too. She glanced first at Phil’s left hand, then at Ned’s. Neither one of them was wearing a ring. Was it possible that both were single?

“Don’t get too excited,” Ned cautioned her; presumably he was talking about the riverboat. “Your people were cabin passengers—that’s like first-class. They had staterooms on the upper deck, and Eveline explicitly says that all her jewelry and such were in her cabin. The boat’s upper structures would have been broken up and carried away by the current. There’s not a prayer that we’ll find any of that.”

“How can I be disappointed? I’ve only known about these people for thirty minutes.”

“Then what does bring you to town?” Phil asked. “Do you have three hundred dollars sewn into your petticoat? Are you here to buy the Lanier Building and restore your family name to its rightful place in Fleur-de-lis?”

Tess didn’t answer.

The men stiffened at the same instant. Phil took a step forward.

Tess cursed herself. She should have been paying more attention. She shouldn’t have been thinking about the way the hair on Phil’s forearms glinted in the sunlight slanting through the open door. Now nothing she could say would rid them of the impression that she was interested in buying the Lanier Building. Ned looked curious; Phil was intent and alert.

“Let us show you around town,” Phil said. His voice was suddenly deeper. He had something to sell her. “Some interesting things are happening.” He touched her arm, leading her outside.

Immediately across the street from the Lanier Building was another limestone building, the former courthouse, now the Riverboat Museum. “How about this for American optimism?” Phil joked lightly. “Ned opened the museum even before he’s started to dig.”

“Ned
opened it?” Ned queried. “That’s not exactly how Ned recalls it.”

“What do you have in it?” Tess asked.

“An exceptionally professional display of the town’s
history,” Ned answered, “or at least as professional as I could make it in the two weeks
he”
—Ned jabbed his brother in the side with his elbow—”gave me to slap it together. Next week the local quilters are putting on a show. We’re letting anyone use the space.”

Tess would have liked to see the quilt show. She was glad to hear that there were women in town who sewed. She wondered how good the local fabric stores were.

The courthouse building itself looked very good. The yellowy-gray stone seemed fresh; the lawn was green and edged, the foundation bushes trimmed, the front walk replaced. The Lanier Building could be made to look like this.

“Once a year we get more than six thousand out-of-towners here for the Nina Lane Birthday Celebration,” Phil was saying. “Since we know how to handle those crowds, we’re thinking of adding a Renaissance Fair and, because of the historical connection to New Orleans, some kind of Mardi Gras festivity—although our weather and our liquor laws mean that it would be somewhat different from the real thing.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement,” Ned added.

They were walking down Main Street. The stores were closed, but Tess could see that the new ones were geared to the tourist trade. She halted in front of one. Celandine Gardens.

“Do you know Sierra’s products?” Phil asked. “She’s going to open in time for Ned’s groundbreaking, and she’s making one special batch of soap that she’ll only sell that weekend. That alone will bring people into town. Do you want to see her shop?”
Phil tried the door. It was locked. “There’s probably a key around here somewhere.” He reached overhead and was feeling along the top of the lintel.

“No, no,” Tess protested. “I don’t want to go in if she’s not there.”

She had to speak to Sierra Celandine. She knew that, but she had no idea what she would say.
Thank you for changing my diapers … I’m sorry I was abrupt with you … what do you want from me?
She didn’t want to compound the awkwardness by trespassing.

A candy shop was already open, and a new candle-and-stationery store would also be opening at the groundbreaking. Two small antiques shops were trying to upgrade. A third of the storefronts were vacant, but Phil treated that like good news. Last January it had been half.

“We’ve really been pushing people,” Phil said. “We need to have as many businesses as possible open by Labor Day. We need to make a great first impression. Some people think we’re rushing, but if we try to build slowly, we’ll miss the Christmas shopping season.”

“I don’t see a fabric store,” Tess said. Fabric stores were important to her. “Is it in another part of town?”

“There isn’t another part of town,” Ned said. “Or a fabric store,” Phil added. “We don’t have one.”

They were at the end of Main Street. Facing one of the side streets, but visible from Main, was a big, white, beautifully restored Victorian house set in the middle of a green lawn and surrounded by a
wrought-iron railing. It was a restaurant, The Cypress Princess, and its parking lot looked to be full.

“The
Cypress Princess
was the steamboat the
Western Settler’s
passengers took up from New Orleans,” Phil explained. “That’s why Wyatt and Gabe used that name. You’re probably wondering how such a small town can support a fine-dining restaurant—”

It had never occurred to Tess to wonder about that.

“—and the answer is that we don’t. But for years this was the only place in western Missouri or eastern Kansas to get authentic Cajun and Creole cooking. Wyatt is from New Orleans, and Gabe’s not local either. They came to town with those people who hung out with Nina Lane. The two of them and Sierra are the only ones left.”

“If you get fine-diners from out of town on Friday and Saturday nights, shouldn’t the shops be open then too?” Tess asked.

“We’re working on that.” Phil glanced at his watch. “Tess, I have to apologize, but I must run. Ned, why don’t you go see if Wyatt and Gabe can give the two of you a table for dinner? It’s still early. They might have space.” He looked at Tess. “You’re at the Best Western? Will you be here for the rest of the weekend? I know our mother would love to have you to the house for dinner, but I need to touch base with her. Can I get back to you?”

Tess blinked. Sometimes during her childhood when people had been rude or unfriendly, Grandma’s lips would tighten and Tess would know that she was thinking that things had been different in Kansas. This must be what she had meant.
One of us.
Tess
was
one of us.
“I don’t want anyone to go to any trouble.”

“Then you shouldn’t have come to this town,” Ned said. He had a more direct, down-to-earth style of speech than his brother. “That’s what we do here, go to trouble for other people, and you have to consider what kind of trouble Phil will be in if he
doesn’t
invite you. Mom will kill him. So she either makes dinner for you or goes to prison for the rest of her natural life.”

“He’s not far off,” Phil said and lifted a hand in farewell, promising to leave a message for Tess at the motel. Then he set off down the street. Tess glanced at Ned.

“I’m game for this if you are,” he said.

His wording might not be gallant, but the good will behind his invitation was unquestionable. “Am I dressed up enough for this place?” She was still wearing the ankle-length linen skirt that she had traveled in.

‘You’re fine. Nobody around here dresses up anymore.”

There were people waiting on the restaurant’s front porch, and the host threw his hands up when he saw them. “Ned, please, I don’t have a thing.”

Ned seemed to have expected that. “It’s August, Wyatt. What business do you have being so successful in August?”

“We can’t help it,” the host said. “And it won’t be August for another week.”

Ned laughed and directed Tess back out the door, careful not to touch her.

“We’ll go pick up sandwiches at Kmart,” he said,
“and eat in the park. That’s not as gruesome as it sounds.” He started giving her directions.

The directions weren’t complicated, but she held up her hand, stopping him. “You can drive. I’ll ride with you.” She would be safe with him. She was
one of us.

Twenty minutes later they were unwrapping sandwiches at a green picnic table near a nice little playground. There was no one else around. “Nobody’s here in the evening,” Ned said. “The high school kids go outside the city limits to drink, and it’s a little early for that … although in August, who knows when they start?”

Why did he keep thinking that it was August? Probably because he wished it were September so he could break ground on his excavation. “I don’t want to hear that,” Tess said. “This is such a pretty town. I want it to be perfect. I don’t want to hear that the high school kids drink.”

“Well, they do. Some of them do it a lot.”

She made a face at him. “I’m curious about you and your brother. You grew up around here?”

“We did. He’s the older, and—” He broke off. “Why are you nodding your head? Is it that obvious?”

Tess hadn’t realized that she had reacted. “He took over the minute he walked in, and you let him. He’s so obviously the older that I’m surprised he didn’t give you money to take me to dinner.”

Ned looked chagrined. “He wouldn’t do that. Neither one of us is making a dime at the moment.”

Her roommates had occasionally allied themselves with men who didn’t bother with gainful employment, but those men had never admitted it as immediately
as Ned just had. “That’s such an attractive feature in a man.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He had a quick, wry smile. “Fortunately, we don’t have to make money. We have some from our parents. We can’t do this forever, but we’ll be okay for a year or two.”

“So you’re freeloaders? That’s even more attractive.”

“Actually, we’re orphans. We get the pity vote.”

“Orphans?” Tess frowned. “Then I’m confused. I thought your mother was going to invite me to dinner.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

He explained how his parents had died when he and Phil were young. They’d lived with their grandparents until their uncle had married. “And when we moved in with Dr. Matt and Carolyn, we started calling them Mom and Dad, even though technically they are our aunt and uncle. Our three younger sisters are really our cousins, but they abuse us like sisters. Anyway, when we say ‘our parents,’ we usually mean Phillip and Polly. But when we say ‘our folks’ or ‘Mom and Dad,’ it’s Matt and Carolyn, so either you have to pay incredibly close attention or not bother at all. I would recommend the latter.”

Tess noticed the parallels between his story and her own, the absent parents, the grandparents, the money. But there had been no Matt and Carolyn for her.

She folded up her sandwich wrapper and finished the last of her drink. “You’ve certainly rearranged your evening for me. It was nice of you. I do appreciate it.”

“The pleasure was mine, believe me.” He wadded
their trash into the Kmart bag. He looked at the bag, turning it around in his hand. “You’re Nina Lane’s daughter, aren’t you?”

Tess felt her mouth grow dry. A man had asked her that once before.

But Gordon, her college boyfriend, had wanted her to be more than Nina Lane’s daughter. He had wanted her to be Nina Lane.

“How did you know?”

“Your name. I knew that she was a Lanier. I also knew that she had named the baby after the boat, and ‘Tess’ seemed like a reasonable variation of that. You said almost nothing about yourself; that was the big tip-off.”

“I didn’t mean to be mysterious.”

“Well, you have been. I mean, it’s not every Friday in August that women who look like you show up in town. Being Nina Lane’s daughter not only explains why you are here, but it also explains why you’re being so mysterious about it.”

“I don’t have anything to say about her,” Tess said. “I don’t remember her at all, and my grandparents never talked about her. Maybe I am a private person, but I am not mysterious.”

“You’re private?” He was surprised. “You don’t seem like you would be.”

“I’m not shy, and I like other people a great deal. But neither of those is inconsistent with being private, with not needing to share everything with everyone.”
Or never having had anyone to share everything with.

“I suppose not,” he agreed. “But privacy’s not a big concept around here. Are you really thinking
about moving here? Have you ever lived in a small town?”

Tess shook her head. “But it’s not like I take great advantage of the cultural resources of where I do live. Traffic and parking are so bad that Kansas City is as easy a trip from here as downtown L.A. is from where I live.”

“That may be true, but that’s not what I meant. You talked about privacy—our lives are very public here. You need to account for everything you do. Everything needs an explanation.”