Bayou Beloved

Butterfly Bayou, Book 6

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About the book

When a woman returns home to Louisiana's Butterfly Bayou, her high school crush finally notices she exists, in a small-town contemporary romance from New York Times bestselling author Lexi Blake.

Quaid Havery always planned to follow in his father’s footsteps. He went to law school and then came home to take over his dad’s legal practice. Being the only lawyer in small-town Papillon, Quaid is pretty sure he’s seen everything. After all, he was once asked to sue an alligator for defamation of character. He’s prepared for anything the town can throw at him, until he encounters Jayna Cardet. She’s gorgeous, smart, funny, and unlike any woman he’s met before...Except he has.

Jayna never thought she’d return to Papillon, but when her life gets turned around she must learn to live in the close-knit community again. She certainly never dreamed she would practice law in her little town, but she finds herself in the courtroom, and the opposing counsel is her former high school crush, Quaid. It wouldn’t be so bad if the man had developed a beer belly, but Quaid is more handsome than ever. And instead of ignoring her like he did in high school, he’s made it plain that he wants to get to know her.

Thus begins a courtship destined to end in a wedding or a war. Either way, the locals are popping some corn and eagerly awaiting the outcome.

Excerpt

Chapter One

Jayna Cardet glanced down at the watch her grandmother had given her the day she’d graduated from law school and frowned. “Your Honor, it’s ten twenty. The trial was supposed to start at ten. I move for you to make a decision based on the fact that the defense didn’t bother to show up.”

“I’m right here.” A thin man in his mid-forties stood, holding up a hand. He was the owner of the gas station and the man who’d made her client’s life a living hell.

At least that was the way she was going to argue the case. She firmly intended to make the world understand that taking down that tree on the land that ran up against her client’s home had been not only rude, but negligent. And she would make that case as soon as the defense counsel bothered to show up. Or perhaps Mr. Abbot could be convinced to defend himself. She could eviscerate the man’s argument in five minutes or less and then she would be free to make a whole bunch of calls that would likely lead to nowhere. Certainly not to a job. “Excellent, then we should get started.”

“But Quaid’s not here.” Abbot looked at her like she was some kind of idiot.

Yeah, she got that a lot these days. Once she’d been the up-and-coming queen of the New Orleans legal scene. She’d been justice in high heels, wielding a designer bag like a shield.

This morning her momma had shoved a PB&J, an apple, and two tiny chocolate chip cookies in a plastic bag from the Fast Mart, and handed her a thermos of instant coffee because only rich people had coffeemakers, and hot water and off-brand caffeine crystals had been good enough for her momma, so they were good enough for her.

How the mighty had fallen.

“Yes, Your Honor, that’s my point.” She gestured to her client, eighty-four-year-old Geraldine Oliver. “If Mr. Havery can’t be bothered to show up on time, then we should either move forward with the trial or you could simply hand down a judgment in favor of my client.”

“Whoa,” Abbot said with a frown. “That doesn’t seem fair. We didn’t even get a chance to tell you what happened. Shouldn’t we have that chance? Quaid’s just running late, like always.”

“Mr. Havery is taking up the judge’s valuable time,” she pointed out. If they’d been in New Orleans, she would already have her judgment and be off to the next client. She would have billed another couple of hours before heading to some fabulous restaurant for lunch where she would schmooze with the bigwigs and bring in even more money.

“My time is not that valuable right now,” Judge Brewer said with a yawn. “Can’t fish today. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment this afternoon, and if I have to cancel that because Quaid’s late, it’s fine with me. Why a man can’t be left to die in peace, I have no idea. Besides, it looks like Geraldine is having a nice nap. Wouldn’t want to wake her.”

Sure enough, her client was snoring quietly in the chair beside her. “Your Honor, you can’t mean to sit here and wait for defense counsel.”

“What else would you have me do, young lady?” The judge’s brow had furrowed. Judge Andy Brewer had been the only judge in the parish for over thirty years. He was a thin man with a head of silver hair and thick glasses. “Besides that unfair judgment thing. I’m not going to penalize Mr. Abbot here because Quaid lost track of time. That might fly in New Orleans, but we are different here in Papillon, and you would do well to remember it. Now, if you’re bored, we could play a game of some kind.”

The court reporter was maybe twelve years old and so shiny it hurt to look at her. She clapped her hands together. “How about Hangman? I could go get the white board, PawPaw.”

Okay, so she might be in her twenties, but Jayna still stood by her assessment. She was too cheery. And apparently, she was the judge’s granddaughter. The nepotism shouldn’t surprise her. Papillon hadn’t changed at all.

“Oh, that sounds like fun.” The owner of the Last Chance Gas Stop looked enthusiastic.

She should sue him for the name of that business alone. It wasn’t the last chance at gas. Not even close. The Fillin’ Station was two miles down the road, and they served chicken-fried steak, too. The only last chance one got at Abbot’s station was the chance to get overcharged for a bag of chips. She’d heard Abbot had selected the name to scare the tourists into buying from him since the chicken-fried steak brought the locals into the other station. “Your Honor, you can’t mean to take up the court’s time with word games.”

“In my opinion, that’s all lawyers do. Take up time playing word games,” the judge said with a sigh. “We might as well have some fun with it. Wally, would you help Britney grab that white board?”

The big bailiff walked out with the court reporter, who reminded Jayna of an overexcited toy poodle or one of those other yippy dogs who always looked like squeaky toys for bigger dogs.

Like her Grand Pyrenees, Luna, who was definitely too big for her mother’s double-wide trailer.

Sometimes she wondered if Luna wished she’d been left back in New Orleans with Todd. Threatening to fight for custody of her dog had been Todd’s way of getting Jayna to give up what little had been left to her after the prenup had stripped her of almost every dollar she had. Still, he’d liked Luna and probably would have hired someone to take care of her. If she’d stayed with Todd, there would have been a yard for her to run around in. Had she been selfish wanting to keep her?

“Miss Cardet,” the judge began, “you’re Lissa Cardet’s youngest, right? Sienna’s sister?”

“Lissa has two kids?” Abbot asked, scratching his nearly bald head. “I thought Sienna was her only one.”

She got that a lot, too. Apparently walking away from one’s hometown and not walking back in for almost fifteen years had an effect on one’s memorability. Somehow the people who could remember family members’ names back to before the Civil War couldn’t seem to recall the high school valedictorian of Armstrong High.

“Melissa Cardet is my mom,” she replied. She should have known it would be like this, should have known that Papillon law would be some weird balancing act of family relationships, popularity, and the barest adherence to normal legal protocols. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t be here long, that living with her mom was temporary while she tried to find another job and got her license to practice in Texas. “Sienna is my sister.”

“Aw, that Sienna is a ray of sunshine,” Abbot said with a big smile.

The judge nodded. “Yes, Sienna is an amazing young woman. After all she’s been through, she’s still smiling, and her heart is full of joy.”

Her sister’s heart was full of denial. She was twice divorced with two kids and working at a diner, but yes, she was the Cardet family success story because she was beautiful and smiled even when she should be stabbing someone. That was the Cardet way. At least for the women. The men didn’t smile, but had been known to stab people from time to time.

“Your Honor, you can’t possibly mean to hold up the court for an attorney who doesn’t bother to show up.” She was shocked. Not that Quaid Havery would be so arrogant he kept the court waiting, but that the judge would put up with it. Quaid Havery had enough arrogance to serve every single person in the world a double helping of self-confidence.

She absolutely had not been thinking about him when she’d put on her best suit and the only Chanel necklace she hadn’t pawned. The one decent pair of heels she hadn’t sold weren’t on her feet because she needed to look her best for her high school crush. Nope. She’d done it all because wearing these clothes made her feel professional. And spending extra time on her makeup was a thing she always did before appearing in court. It had nothing to do with him.

She hoped that man had a nice pot belly and had lost all that hair he’d had in high school. Quaid had been the prom king and she’d been the nerd who’d tutored him in French. He’d been the rich kid, the one whose family had all the connections, and she’d had two uncles and a cousin in the Louisiana penitentiary system. Her father had only avoided prison because he’d been friendly with the sheriff at the time of his arrest.

Quaid very likely had blown through a couple of trophy wives by now and had a whole bunch of kids who resented the hell out of him just like he’d resented his own workaholic dad.

The judge waved off her concern. “Quaid’s real busy. It’s hard to be the only lawyer in the whole parish. He’s like his daddy before him, always up to his neck in work. He probably forgot. I’ll have Brit call his secretary to remind him. Don’t worry. His office is right across the town square. He’ll be here soon.”

“He’s not the only attorney in town. Not anymore.” She might not be here for long, but while she was, she intended to show the town what she’d learned.

A brow rose over the judge’s eyes. “You’re staying in Papillon, then?”

It wasn’t like she had anywhere else to go. If she could be anywhere else in the whole world, she would be. “For the time being. From what I understand, Mr. Havery represents the more privileged people of the parish. If I hadn’t been around, Mrs. Oliver wouldn’t have been able to secure counsel and wouldn’t have been able to press her legal claim. So I think I should be a welcome addition to our legal community.”

The judge sighed. “If you hadn’t been around, Quaid would have already handled the problem and none of us would be here. It’s what he does. He settles problems so they don’t ever have to reach the court system and I can fish more. I’m not getting any younger, as I’m sure Lila LaVigne will remind me if I have to go in for my yearly physical.”

She was going to lose an entire day because the judge wanted to avoid a lecture on his cholesterol.

Geraldine’s snoring reached a new, far more audible level, and Jayna realized the woman had left her teeth out. She tended to shove them in the big bag she carried and only put them in when it was time to eat.

Jayna chose to focus on the problem at hand. “Judge, in all seriousness, Mr. Havery should never be negotiating without other counsel present. He’s legally required to look out for the best interests of his client, not those of the opposing party. He’s not supposed to be a mediator looking out for both people.”

“Of course he is. Quaid’s a nice guy. He can do both,” the judge insisted.

“Legally he cannot,” she argued. How long had it been since the judge had gone to law school?

Dear lord. Had the judge gone to law school? It was Papillon. Anything was possible. One year there were a hundred write-in votes to make Otis the mayor. Otis was the gator who hung around Guidry’s Bar and Grill parking lot. There had been real worry that the gator would win, and there was nothing in the town charter that eliminated reptiles from serving in government positions.

It was an oversight.

The judge studied her for a moment. “Now I do recall Lissa having a younger child. You were a smart one, very dedicated to your studies if I remember.”

“I still am. I went to Loyola for undergrad and UT Austin for law school, where I was first in my class.” Her education was the one thing she could still take some pride in.

The judge nodded like he’d expected her reply. “Yes, I remember you now, Jayna. Your momma was so proud of you. She said one day you’d come back and you’d help people like her, people who couldn’t afford Quaid. But that was a long time ago.”

She felt her skin warm, a flush of embarrassment running through her system. “I always meant to leave Papillon. I wanted to practice in a city. I worked in New Orleans for ten years. My mom knew I wanted a different experience.”

“Well, that’s the thing with mommas. They always have hope,” the judge said. “I have six grandchildren. Four of them now live in either Houston or New Orleans. My youngest grandson is in the Navy and likely won’t leave until he retires. Britney is the only one who stayed, and she’s a sweet girl. Not the brightest, though. She barely made it through court reporting school, and sometimes I swear she loses track and makes stuff up. But she needed a job and she stayed here. So many of our bright young people leave us behind. It’s why a town like ours never changes. The people who could change things in Papillon for the better go to a city where they have a much harder time having their voices be heard. It’s a small town’s catch-22. I suspect you’re licking your wounds and once you feel strong enough, you’ll head right back to the city. Divorce?”

All right. The judge was smarter than she was giving him credit for. “Yes, I recently got divorced.”

Divorce seemed like the right word. Divorced from her husband, from her job, from her life.

Exile was a good word, too. She’d been exiled from the life she’d built.

“Well, you’re a smart young woman who will likely bounce back quickly, and when you’re out in the big city playing by all those rules and getting everyone wrapped in red tape because their lives are so busy and important, Quaid will still be here taking care of the people of this parish. He’ll still be trying his best to settle some of the most ridiculous arguments you’ve ever heard and doing it all with goodwill toward everyone. So we’re going to wait for him because he would do the same for us.” The judge looked up as the door to the courtroom opened again and his granddaughter charged through with a bright grin on her face.

“We found colored markers,” she announced.

“Are they permanent? Because that’s a dry erase board, darlin’,” the judge said.

Britney’s eyes widened. “Is that bad?”

The judge sighed. “Yes. You can’t erase the permanent markers. I’ll see if I can find the right ones. Maybe you should grab a snack, Ms. Cardet.”

Maybe she should go grab the tardy opposing counsel. “Sure. That sounds great, Your Honor.”

Geraldine shifted, her mouth coming open as she began to snore like a water buffalo.

Jayna straightened the blazer she wore and strode out.

It was time to let Quaid Havery know he wasn’t the only game in town anymore.

“He’s not telling you the truth,” Gwen Mallory-Giles insisted. “My mom wanted me to have them.”

Stephen Mallory shook a finger his sister’s way. “She wanted me to have them. You ignore them. You don’t pay a bit of attention to them and you never did.”

There were days when Quaid Havery wished his father had been a doctor. A surgeon, perhaps, the kind who spent five minutes talking to a patient and then another two explaining how the surgery went. The rest of the time would be spent in blissful silence.

If his father had been a surgeon, Quaid would have dutifully followed in his footsteps and then he wouldn’t be listening to a couple of ornery septuagenarians arguing over a collection of antique dolls.

Unfortunately, he was a lawyer, and he’d been the one to write the last will and testament of one Imogene LouisaMallory, who had been very specific about every aspect of her estate with one exception.

Some really creepy dolls. There were four of them, and until he managed to negotiate a truce between the siblings, the dolls lived in his office and probably attracted the absolute worst karma because they were obviously cursed.

“Have we considered splitting up the dolls? There are four of them. You could each have two,” Quaid offered.

Both siblings gasped as though he’d offered to murder them and post the video online.

“You can’t separate them,” Gwen sputtered. “How could you even suggest such a thing? What is wrong with you, Quaid Havery? Your daddy would never have thought to do something so heartless.”

This was why his daddy had taught him to keep a bottle of Scotch in his desk. “I would never want to be heartless. I can, however, be very ignorant. Why exactly can’t we split up the dolls?”

“They are a set,” Stephen insisted. “What you are looking at is a perfectly kept set of Loveland Dolls created in the early twentieth century and painstakingly handcrafted by Idella Loveland. She is considered a master.”

Of the dark arts, perhaps. He would believe that. He wanted to ask if Idella had maybe channeled any evil deeds she’d done into those dolls, but he knew better than to ask about the religious practices of his clientele. That tended to open doors he didn’t want to walk through.

“Momma always told us you can’t separate them. They would be lonely,” Gwen insisted. “Carmen keeps everyone’s spirits up while Justine is the pragmatic one. Shelby, well they couldn’t get on without Shelby.”

“And Laurelin is the heart of the sisters,” Stephen said with a smile. “She’s the one who got them all through the war, you know.”

Gwen turned to her brother, a fond smile on her face. “Oh, I remember that. Momma used to tell us the best stories about the sisters.”

Stephen dabbed at his eyes. “When our daddy was deployed, we would be scared sometimes at night, but Momma would tell us stories about the dolls and how they would watch over us.”

Quaid wouldn’t be able to sleep if those damn dolls were in the room with him, but he had to be tolerant. They obviously meant a lot to the siblings.

Gwen had married but was now widowed. Stephen had never married. Neither had children.

What they had were those dolls.

“Have you considered what you’re going to do with the house?” A plan was playing around in his head. The siblings had argued over their mother for years before her death, with Gwen insisting that Stephen wasn’t taking good enough care of her. Gwen hadn’t lived in the house with her mother. The majority of their mother’s care had been provided by her brother.

Was Gwen too proud to ask for what she wanted?

Stephen frowned. “Well, it’s my home. I wasn’t going to do anything with it.”

“It’s half mine,” Gwen pointed out. “Momma left me half of everything, including the house. How are you planning on giving me half the house, Stephen? Have you thought about that at all?”

“You want me to sell it?” Stephen had gone pale at the thought. “We grew up in that home. I’ve lived in it all my life. I can’t sell it and go live in some apartment. What would I do with the cats? I don’t think those sad apartments will accept ten cats. Mittens is eighteen years old. She can’t handle a shelter. You are killing Mittens, you mean old crone.”

Gwen’s eyes went wide. “How dare you.”

He needed to shut this down and fast. “What if Gwen moved home to help you with the cats? I imagine Mittens requires a lot of care.”

Stephen seemed taken aback at the suggestion. “Well, yes. Yes, she does. She’s on seven separate medications and needs a special diet. I have to make sure the others don’t get in her food. They can be a jealous lot, you know.”

“Noodles has always wanted anything Mittens has,” Gwen said with a shake of her head. “That one is a handful, and Momma always told me that Sandy and Sparkles should never be left alone together. It must be hard taking care of them all on your own.”

“Well, I could use some help,” he admitted. “But I know how much you love your house.”

Gwen shrugged. “It’s a lot to take care of since Tom died. It’s awfully quiet.”

He was so close to the finish line. He could taste it. He might even be able to fit some writing in before he was due in court if he could get them out of here soon. “You know, you could avoid a lot of problems if Gwen moves in with you, Stephen. You wouldn’t have to sell the place to give Gwen half the money. The cats would get to stay in the only home they’ve ever known. The dolls could stay in their cases. You could maybe even write down those stories about the dolls if you helped each other out.”

Gwen’s expression went dreamy. “Oh, I always thought those stories Momma told would make a wonderful book.”

“We could photograph the dolls so everyone would see how lovely they are.” Stephen reached for his sister’s hand. “I’m sorry we’ve been estranged. I’ve missed you, sister.”

Yes, he might get to finish that chapter if they left right now. He was already planning his hero’s next steps when he heard the bell on the office ring, and winced.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Gwen squeezed his hand. “Let’s go to the café and talk about this. Quaid, you’re a good boy, like your daddy. We’ll come back for the dolls. You take good care of them.”

He let out a sigh of relief. The bell had probably been his secretary coming back from her coffee run.

He could write away for the next . . .

Quaid got a good look at the time and realized he was late. So late.

He reached for his briefcase as the door to his office came open. “Cindy, you were supposed to tell me . . .”

That wasn’t Cindy standing in his doorway. No. The woman there didn’t at all resemble his sixty-five-year-old legal secretary who wore bulky cardigans even in the heat of summer because she weighed about ninety-five pounds soaking wet and was always cold.

This woman wasn’t close to cold. She was hot.

Dark hair cut in a chic bob that brushed her jawline. Pouty, perfect scarlet lips and dark eyes that seemed to zero in on him. She was dressed in a designer suit and some killer heels. That suit had been tailored to show off her every curve.

His writing could wait. Court could wait. The world could wait.

Please don’t let her be a client.

“How can I help you?”

Those gorgeous eyes of hers narrowed. “You could have helped me by showing up in court on time.” She glanced down at her watch. “Which was thirty minutes ago.”

Not a client, but there was no question the woman was irritated. However, he could be quite charming when he wanted to be. “It’s all right. The judge is very tolerant, and I think he has his yearly physical today so he’ll try to draw things out. It won’t work. I heard his wife telling Lila LaVigne to do the whole physical in his office if he doesn’t show up. Are you Geraldine’s niece? You should understand . . .”

He’d been ready to tell her he already had a plan in place to help Geraldine out since he was absolutely winning this case, but she interrupted him.

“I am Geraldine’s attorney, and we would like the courtesy of your presence in court since the judge won’t do what he should and give us a directed verdict.” Her arms folded across her chest, that glorious mouth of hers turning down into a frown.

That frown should have shut down his libido, but it did not. He kind of liked the thrum that was starting in his system. His life had become a boring cycle of work and family obligations, and a never-ending string of rejections when it came to the one thing he truly loved. This woman had him excited for the first time in years. “Geraldine hired herself an attorney. Now, that I wasn’t expecting. Where on earth did she find you? Houma? I know all three attorneys there. Did she go all the way to New Orleans?”

“I live here for now, though I did practice in New Orleans for years,” the woman said and then her expression changed, eyes widening. “Dare I ask why you have not one or two, but four Annabelle dolls? There is no way those aren’t haunted, and I’m not even a person who believes in those things.”

She might be the only woman in Louisiana who didn’t. He gestured toward the dolls. “They’re part of an estate I’m the executor of. I think I’ve settled that problem.” He needed to get the court thing out of the way so he could ask this woman out. She was new in town, and there were a bunch of men who would take one look at her and try to pounce. He’d like to pounce first and see if this insane attraction led somewhere. He started for the door, briefcase in hand. “I was in a negotiating session over those dolls, and that’s why I’m late for court. I’m Quaid, by the way.”

He heard the click-clack of her heels on the hardwood floors of his office as she followed him. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

He held the door open for her. “I assure you I would remember if we met before.”

Her eyes were narrow again, her short hair curling on her cheek as she snapped her head around to glare his way. “I’ll take that bet, Quaid.”

She didn’t wait for him as she took off down the sidewalk toward the courthouse.

Had he met her before? He would remember this gorgeous woman. He definitely hadn’t slept with her. He would remember that.

He jogged to catch up with her. “All right, I’m sorry I don’t recall where we met. Were we in law school together?”

“No, Quaid. We didn’t have a random class together.” She could motor in those heels.

“I don’t practice much outside of Papillon, so I don’t think we’ve faced each other in court.” He was racking his brain to figure out how he was supposed to know her and why she was so irritated with him. Even when he won a case, he was polite about it. He wasn’t one of those preening jackasses who felt the need to lord his victory over the opposition. Not that he usually faced opposition in court.

She strode up the steps to the courthouse, and he would bet she spent a lot of time in the gym. He was getting the slightest bit winded keeping up with her.

“My name is Jayna Cardet.”

He did know that last name. “Are you one of Sienna’s cousins?”

That would explain the law degree. That family needed a lot of legal representation of the criminal defense kind.

Jayna reached the top of the steps and turned on him. “I’m her sister, and we literally went to high school together. I’m the only reason you passed French.”

He felt his jaw drop. “No. I’m pretty sure that girl’s name was June and she was . . .”

He’d been about to say June the tutor was a total nerd, but her skin had taken on a level of red that was a warning to any man that he’d stepped on a landmine and it was about to explode and take his balls with it.

“What, Quaid? June—which is not and has never been my name—was what?” Her hand was on her hip, eyes staring him down.

Again, he should not be this attracted to a woman who looked like she would strike him down with a bolt of lightning if she possessed that particular superpower. “I was going to say she was a very nice girl who helped me so much. I’m sorry, Jayna. You don’t look like you did then. You’ve grown up.”

“Well, you look exactly like the same douchebag high school lothario you always were.” She turned again. “Let’s get this over with. I expect your client to pay for all my client’s pain and suffering.”

He followed her as she walked into the courthouse, not bothering to look back to see if he was keeping up. “Pain and suffering? My client took down a tree that was clearly on his property. He had every right. That tree was outside Geraldine’s fence.”

“But her fence was built a foot back from where her property line ends,” Jayna replied, not missing a beat. She turned down the hallway that would lead them to one of two courtrooms. Someone had been optimistic when they’d designed the building. “So the tree was her property.”

Did she honestly believe he hadn’t studied this? She was absolutely giving him big-city lawyer vibes. They always underestimated him. They saw that he was the conservator for haunted dolls and elderly felines and decided he wasn’t up to snuff. Quaid jogged in front of her, getting to the door and opening it like the gentleman he was. “You’re right. Let’s get this over with.”

They had gotten off on the wrong foot. He needed more information because he hadn’t heard the name Jayna Cardet in so many years he’d forgotten it, and that was a mistake.

“Is there an e?” Britney asked.

Britney had obviously talked her grandpa into passing the time with a game of Hangman, and Quaid would bet not a one of the people in the courtroom saw the irony in that.

The bailiff dutifully placed two e’s on the board, and Britney clapped her hands.

A low growl of frustration came off Jayna as she approached the front of the courtroom.

She’d been away from Papillon for way too long if she let something like this get to her. Luckily, he could wrap this up very quickly.

“Your Honor, I’m so sorry I’m late. I was dealing with Imogene Mallory’s estate. Her heirs showed up at my office a couple of hours ago and I lost track of time,” Quaid explained, taking his place behind the defense table.

The judge set the white board down as Britney dutifully took her place behind the stenotype. “Not a problem at all, Quaid. Were they fighting about those creepy dolls Imogene kept? Or was it the cats?”

“It was the dolls. We have it all figured out now. Gwen is going to move back home so the dolls and the cats stay together,” Quaid explained.

“Excellent,” the judge said. “Now tell me what this case is about.”

“You didn’t read the suit I filed?” Jayna stood beside her sleeping client.

Geraldine was getting up in years. She needed her naps.

The judge held up the legal papers that had been given to him. “I glanced through it. Give me the short version.”

Jayna’s shoulders went back, her chin coming up. “My client’s quality of life was damaged when the defendant, Mr. Abbot, took down a tree that is clearly on her property. Mr. Abbot owns a gas station behind her home, and now the glare from the back lights flood her house every night. It keeps her awake, and quite frankly, my client doesn’t have the money to put up a tall enough fence to block out the light. I also believe the fact that you can now watch people pumping gas from my client’s backyard has eroded her property value. We ask for a judgment against the defendant of one hundred thousand dollars.”

“I don’t have a thousand dollars, much less a hundred thousand,” Abbot said, a faint whine in his voice.

It took all Quaid had not to roll his eyes. The city slicker was in town, and she thought she could roll over all the bumpkins. She was arrogant, and yet he still wanted to get to know her.

But first she needed to understand he wasn’t someone she could steamroll with her gorgeous looks and obvious intelligence. He pulled out his ace in the hole. “Your Honor, before Jimmy Abbot took down the tree, he informed Geraldine he was going to do it. Here is a copy of the letter my client sent along with an explanation and the proof that while the tree is partially on Geraldine’s property, the majority of the roots of the tree are on his. I measured it. The trunk and visible roots measure twelve feet around, and nine of those are clearly on the gas station property.”

“The tree was partially hers and shouldn’t have been taken down.” Jayna frowned his way before turning to the judge. “And if Mr. Abbot sent a letter, my client doesn’t remember. She’s elderly, and he’s taking advantage of her.”

“I bring her lunch every day,” Abbot argued. “I treat her like she’s my grandma. Those roots were starting to crack the pavement of the parking lot. Can’t she close the curtains?”

“She doesn’t have blackout drapes,” Jayna replied. “And honestly, she shouldn’t need them because she didn’t agree to the tree being taken down.”

“She doesn’t have to agree. This is decided law, Your Honor. As per Hollister v. Klein, whoever owns the majority of the base of the tree makes the final decisions about the tree,” Quaid explained. “You yourself made that judgment in 1995.”

The judge nodded solemnly. “Yes, I did, and it led to a feud that lasted twenty years.”

Abbot stood. “Geraldine don’t have twenty years left in her, and I won’t feud with any of her kin. I will pay for her blackout curtains. I’ll even take her to the Walmart and let her pick them out herself.”

“Ooo, can I get some new pillows, too?” Geraldine had magically awakened at this opportune moment. “And I need a few other things for around the house.”

Abbot sighed, a deeply relieved sound. “Of course. Miss Geraldine, you didn’t need to hire a lawyer. I would have worked this all out with you. I was shocked when I got served with that lawsuit.”

Geraldine stood, stretching and then patting down her helmet of steel gray hair. “Well, this young lady here seemed to need some work. I don’t know. She talked real fast, Jimmy, and I get lonely at times. But that light is terrible. It’s so very bright at all hours of the night.”

“Excellent. Then my judgment is for the defense.” The judge struck his gavel and stood. “Now, I’m going to hide, and we’ll say this took far longer than it did.”

Britney was right on top of that. “PawPaw, I can’t let you do that. I’m supposed to take you down to Lila’s. I’m way more afraid of MawMaw than I am you.”

The Brewer family started arguing while Geraldine made her way to Jimmy Abbot, already talking about what a magical place the Houma Walmart was. Jayna Cardet simply stared as though trying to process how her life had taken this turn.

“Hey, why don’t we go over to the café? I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you, but if you’re going to practice here in Papillon, we should probably talk.”

“I didn’t even get to argue my case.” She took the thick file in front of her and shoved it into her Prada bag. “And I’m pretty sure my client intends to pay me in gumbo.”

That sounded about right. “There’s not a lot of money here, but it can be fun.”

She frowned at him. It seemed to be a theme with her. “You seem to be doing fine, Mr. Havery.”

“Only because I’m the only lawyer in town and I represent the largest businesses in the area. I’ve got more work than I can handle,” he offered. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself and maybe I can hand some of that work over to you.”

“I don’t need charity.” She slung her oversized bag on her shoulder. “I can find my own clients. In fact, I think you’ll find we’ll be right back here in no time, and I won’t lose again. Good day, Mr. Havery.”

“It’s Quaid,” he called out as she walked away.

He was deeply looking forward to their next encounter.

Copyright 2023 Lexi Blake