Chapter Five

      Brenna sat watching the people of Fleur as they filed into the bright church hall one by one. Of course, Winnie had sent cookies to go with the urn of coffee. Refreshments were always a requirement here in this big, loud room. The Fleur Café, right across the street, was happy to provide them.

      Good thing she brought extra. Tonight the main attraction had drawn a record crowd. Whenever a stranger came to town and wanted a meeting, people came to listen. Especially people who were unemployed or late with last month’s mortgage. Especially people who already had two and sometimes three jobs but could never rest because their families needed food and shelter. Not that Nick came bearing jobs or solutions, but he was here on a positive note. He was taking something they all treasured and admired and making it beautiful again.

      A restoration.

      Brenna let that thought rush through her like sparkling water as she scanned the crowd. Nick wasn’t here yet. Why was she so nervous, so hopeful for this man? What had he done to her to make her see beneath that facade of cool and calm he cloaked around himself?

      “Make it beautiful for me.”

      His words echoed over the boisterous gathering, haunting her with a sweet intensity.

      Did Nick create and re-create lovely aesthetic things because he needed to make the world more beautiful? For someone he loved? Or maybe for someone he’d lost? Was that why he traveled so light and lingered only as long as required? She thought about the young girl in the portrait she’d seen on the internet. What did Jessica mean to him? Was she a friend? Or someone he’d loved and lost?

      Dear Lord, help me to understand this man. Help me to restore his soul to You.

      The plea of that prayer poured over her as people gathered for the meeting. And somehow, Brenna knew that would be the echo she’d hear in her head each time she was around Nick Santiago.

      For now, she smiled and waved to the full house. She spotted Julien’s younger brother, Pierre, along with his girlfriend, Mollie. They were so cute together. Since Julien and Alma had gotten back together, the Blanchard family had embraced Julien’s family, welcoming his mother and his brother as their own. Her father came through the door, Mrs. LeBlanc walking with him. It was funny how several of the widows in the church seemed to be always after her daddy. But Julien’s mother was just a friend. She had made it clear after her husband died almost two years ago she would never fall in love again.

      Maybe Nick had made that same pledge, Brenna thought as she surveyed the crowd.

      Callie came in and waved, then slid into a seat up front.

      Brenna walked over to her sister and dropped her briefcase on the floor. “He’s not here yet.”

      “I’m sure he’s on his way,” Callie said. “Hey, I got a call from Alma. They are having so much fun. The ocean, the beach, the shops, the honeymoon. She might not ever come home from Florida.”

      “She’s in love,” Brenna said, glad for her sister. “Did you tell her about Fleur House?”

      Callie giggled. “Yes, I told her all about your new love interest Nick Santiago, which is what you’re really asking.”

      “I am not. What did she say?”

      “She said good for you. On the job...and the man.”

      “She’s in love. She can be optimistic.”

      “Yeah, that’s true. We, on the other hand, are more cynical. So we have to be cautious.”

      Brenna nodded at that, as sad as it sounded. But when she turned and saw Nick strolling in as if he owned the place, his suit tailored and fitted, his hair combed and shimmering, she wanted to throw caution to the wind. Her heart actually did a backward flip.

      Frances LaBorde, a staunch church lady and one to always notice everything going on around here, leaned up and touched Brenna on the arm. “He’s mighty perty, ain’t he?” She winked at Brenna, then settled back with a look of delight on her puffy cheeks.

      “Yes, he sure is,” Callie whispered to Brenna. “If you don’t go for him, I just might have to.”

      “Go ahead,” Brenna said, inhaling a deep breath. “Ours is a working relationship.” She ignored the little green monsters of jealousy laughing in her head.

      “Yeah, and we all believe that,” Callie retorted. “I was just teasing about my going after him. But the way he looks at you, I think you have a definite shot.”

      * * *

      Nick surveyed the crowd. The tough crowd. He hadn’t expected this many people to show up. But this was a small town with a big grapevine. No need for online networking here. This network moved through clotheslines and crab traps and church prayer chains.

      He was a stranger in a strange land.

      Then he looked up and saw Brenna sitting there on the front row, prim and proper and prepared, wearing a pretty spring dress and cute little blue sweater. She gave him an encouraging, questioning smile.

      Showtime.

      “Hello, everyone,” he said in a loud calm voice.

      The whispers died down as people settled into their seats.

      Nick took a breath. “I’m Nick Santiago. I’ve been here for a while, but I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to talk to very many of you. I’m supervising the renovation of the Dubois mansion, locally known as Fleur House.”

      Applause followed that introduction. Nick grinned at that.

      “I wanted to let you know what this means for your community.”

      “Yeah, what does it mean?” came a shout from the back.

      “Jobs?” someone else asked.

      The conversations started up again, a mixture of English and Cajun-French that turned into chaos. Nick tried raising his hand, but they were off and running, taking his initial explanations and creating little detours that rippled like a swamp wake.

      “Excuse me!”

      Nick watched as Brenna stood up and clapped her hands.

      “Mr. Santiago is doing us a favor by bringing us here tonight. Let’s show him that famous Fleur hospitality by listening, please. He’ll be glad to answer any questions when he’s finished.”

      The room went quiet.

      Nick gave Brenna a grateful glance, then started again.

      “Last spring, my client bought Fleur House and the surrounding gardens. Because I’m an architect and on retainer for this particular client, he commissioned me to oversee the renovations. I’ve been here a few weeks now, and I’ve seen some of you riding by the house. I know you’re wondering who this man is and what’s going on with all the construction.”

      He took a breath and drank a sip of water from the cup Brenna had put on a table. “I can’t tell you who the owner is yet. He’s a very private man with a very public obligation.