Bayou Beloved

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 potbelly 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."