Unmasked (15 page)

“A
UNTIE
C
HARLOTTE
!
Make a wish.”

Charlotte turned just as Daisy Rose barreled into her skirt. She leaned down to help extricate her from the yards of blue satin, then straightened her niece’s wings. “Are you sure you have any magic left in that wand,
chérie?
”

“Tons,” Daisy Rose said. She whipped the end back and forth. The gold-painted star turned into a glittering streak. “See?”

Jackson slipped his arm around Charlotte’s waist. “Sure looks to me as if it’s still loaded. What are you going to wish for, Charlie?”

“Now that’s a tough question. What don’t I have?” She pursed her lips and laid her finger against her cheek. “Maybe another day off?”

Daisy Rose tapped the wand against Charlotte’s arm. “Your wish is grannied.”

“Grannied?”

“She means granted,” Sylvie said, squeezing through the crowd to join them. She took a tissue from her sleeve and squatted to wipe a smear of chocolate from Daisy Rose’s mouth. Sylvie’s gown was made from the same spangled yellow tulle as her daughter’s, and both of them looked as if they floated on air. “I didn’t think you two were going to make it.”

“If either of us knew how to cook, we might not have,” Jackson said. “But since Robert and Melanie went to all this trouble, the least we could do is help eat.”

Charlotte laughed and dug an elbow into his side. “Don’t listen to him. We wouldn’t have missed this celebration for anything.”

“We do have a lot to celebrate,” Jefferson said as he extended his hand to help Sylvie up. “This is one Mardi Gras none of us will forget.”

Sylvie gave a private smile to her fiancé before she turned back to Charlotte. “You look fabulous. That gown is so…you.”

“Genevieve’s a true artist.” Charlotte pinched a fold of the skirt and swept it toward her niece so the feathers at the hem tickled her nose.

Daisy Rose giggled and whipped her wand back and forth again.

“Better grab her before she reloads that thing,” Jackson said.

Jefferson took Daisy Rose by the hands and twirled her toward him. “Climb on,” he said, guiding her to step onto the toes of his shoes. “I believe this is our dance.”

Charlotte leaned her head on Jackson’s shoulder and swayed to the beat as Jefferson waltzed off with Sylvie and Daisy Rose. The music was a lively blend of fiddles and accordions—Renee had settled on a Cajun band in honor of their father’s roots. It had been a good choice. The upbeat tempo wove through the crowd as effortlessly as laughter.

There was plenty of that in the room tonight. The hotel was full to capacity, and the guests were enjoying themselves almost as much as the Marchand family. Renee’s crew had transformed the event rooms into a fairy-tale meadow, straight
out of Charlotte’s favorite book. Strings of tiny lights twinkled from the ceiling, and fanciful painted plywood creatures watched from the greenery. A miniature castle, complete with turrets and a drawbridge, had been assembled in the far corner, while a fog machine sent wisps of enchantment curling along the floor.

The walls of the Hotel Marchand were once again echoing with good memories.

Only a week ago Charlotte had been dreading this ball. She’d thought that things couldn’t have gotten any worse. Now she couldn’t imagine them getting any better.

Jackson rubbed his thumb along her midriff. “Do you still want one of those?”

“What?”

“A child.”

Her eyes filled. Oh, yes. Things could indeed get better. She tipped her head back to look at Jackson. “I realize this is what I talked about twenty years ago, but I’m forty years old now.”

“I don’t think dreams come with an expiration date, Charlie. We’re living proof of that.”

“The chances aren’t that good.”

“After everything we’ve been through, are you really going to pay any attention to the odds?”

She smiled. “Unless you want me to start crying again, we’ll have to talk about this later.”

He moved his hand to the satin over her hip as he guided her to the dance floor. “I look forward to doing more than talking.”

“So that’s what this is about,” she said on a laugh. “You just don’t want to bother stopping at the drugstore to buy another box of—”

“Charlotte Anne.”

The voice smothered her laughter as quickly as a wet towel. She automatically straightened her spine. “
Grand-mère
. I’m so glad to see that you decided to attend.”

In spite of the party going on around her, Celeste Robichaux appeared to stand in a circle of calm. She was a small woman, yet her bearing carried a presence that set her apart. Dressed in purple damask, her silver hair coiled in her trademark French roll, she gestured toward Jackson with the tip of her cane. “I was told that you had returned.”

Charlotte knew that Jackson wasn’t the same insecure boy he’d once been—he didn’t need to prove anything to Celeste—yet she felt herself bristling at her grandmother’s disapproving regard.

Before she could say anything, Jackson stepped forward and kissed Celeste on both cheeks. “You’re looking well, Miss Celeste.”

“Thank you. We have certain standards we must maintain on occasions such as this.” She swept Jackson with a disdainful glance. “Your face is bruised like a common prizefighter’s.”

“My apologies,” Jackson said smoothly. “I meant no offense. I’ll do my best to keep my appearance from frightening the children.”

Celeste’s mouth twitched. She pinched her lips together and stacked her hands on her cane. “I understand you saved my granddaughter’s life.”

“Charlotte and I worked as a team. I’d say we saved each other.”

“I’ve also learned that you saved my grandson’s life yesterday.”

“I did what I could to stabilize him. The surgeons at the hospital did the rest.”

Celeste dipped her chin in a regal nod. “It appears your education was put to good use.”

“I plan to put it to use here from now on,” he said. He smiled at Charlotte and laced his fingers with hers. “I’ll be staying in New Orleans permanently.”

Celeste’s hand fluttered on her cane as she looked at the two of them. “Then is it true, Charlotte? You and this…this…”

“Yes,
Grand-mère
, this Bailey boy and I plan to stay together for good.”

Beneath the purple damask Celeste’s shoulders seemed to droop. “Very well. Since all of your sisters have decided to become engaged, it’s proper that you do, too, since you’re the eldest. But I will not apologize. I acted in your best interests.”

Charlotte felt Jackson tense. She squeezed his fingers gently. “Perhaps you’d better explain,
Grand-mère
.”

“You two were completely unsuited to each other, so I did what was necessary to separate you.”

“Miss Celeste,” Jackson said. “What exactly did you do?”

The tiny woman lifted her chin quickly. “You didn’t actually believe that a full scholarship to a prestigious institution such as Harvard would fall into your hands out of the blue, did you? The dean of admissions was an old friend of mine.”

This was the last thing Charlotte had expected. And from the shock on Jackson’s face, it had surprised him, too. She took a step toward her grandmother. “Are you claiming that you had something to do with Jackson’s scholarship?”

Celeste’s sharp gaze was defiant. “I provided fifty percent of the funds.”

Charlotte swayed forward. “How dare you! You deliberately manipulated—”

Jackson wrapped his arms around Charlotte’s waist and pulled her back to his chest. “Thank you for your generosity, Miss Celeste,” he said. “You are a truly gracious and insightful lady. May we consider that an early wedding gift?”

Celeste’s mouth twitched again. She rapped her cane against the floor, muttered a caution against being cheeky and swept back into the crowd. Charlotte watched her go, seething inside, until she felt the tremors in Jackson’s arms. The moment she twisted to look at him, he burst into laughter.

“It’s not funny!” she said. “My grandmother meddled in our lives. She deliberately broke us up.”

He kissed her nose and whirled her into a waltz. “We did most of that ourselves, Charlie. But this only proves we were meant to be together.”

“But—”

“Surviving the Corbins and Mike Blount is lucky enough. Saving your hotel, getting back the use of my hand, that’s unbelievable. But to foil Miss Celeste—that’s
really
beating the odds.”

She couldn’t help laughing. “I see your point.”

“This was how things were meant to happen all along.”

“It wasn’t irony, it was fate.”

“It was love, Charlie.” Jackson smiled as they danced past the castle. “Makes you almost believe in magic, doesn’t it?”