“Celeste never talks about the family she came from.”
That’s because Aunt Celeste was the grand dame of Papillon and she liked to forget that she came from a working-class community outside Dallas. She liked to pretend her mother hadn’t cleaned houses and her father hadn’t worked on cars for a living. “Well, you know how it goes. She moved away and started a family here.”
It was only because Celeste hadn’t abandoned her younger sister in her time of need that Harry had come when she’d called. Celeste had visited occasionally, always staying at some ritzy hotel in Dallas and inviting them out for lunch. She’d never come to the home he’d grown up in, the tiny two-bedroom apartment in a lower-class neighborhood. But when his father had passed, Celeste had been the one to sit beside his mom and promise her everything would be all right. Celeste had covered the funeral expenses and made sure they had food on the table.
His aunt had a heart, though sometimes it was hard to see through all the designer wear.
“Well, I knew Ralph’s mother, and anyone who could survive living with that mean old lady would have to develop some thick skin,” Helena said.
He was rapidly coming to realize that everyone knew everyone else here in Papillon and they liked to talk. It was interesting to try to figure out this family of his. “I never met my aunt’s husband. He was obviously a successful man.”
“His family was successful,” Helena corrected. “Ralph’s father was an oilman back in the day. His family once owned a big ranch in Texas, but back in the thirties they found oil underground, and that’s where the wealth came from. He married a woman from New Orleans and settled here. I think they liked it here because they could rule the town. Still do. Not a lot gets done here without either Celeste Beaumont or Rene Darois having a say. The Beaumont and Darois families have run this town for a long time. The rich always seem to get their way.”
“I don’t think having her son die was my aunt’s way. Or Uncle Ralph having a heart attack a year later.” His aunt wasn’t the warmest person in the world, but she’d been through a lot.
“Of course.” Helena had gone a nice shade of red. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”
“Takes a lot to offend me, but it’s good to remember we all have pain. Money can’t fix everything.” It was one of the lessons he’d learned. His cousin Wes had everything going for him. He’d had money and connections and a bright future he’d traded for a deadly accident in the desert half a world away from home. Harry hadn’t had anything material growing up but he’d managed to survive. Death, he’d learned, was the great equalizer.
“Yes, it is good to remember,” Helena agreed. “How long are you going to be in town? I heard you’re working on that beautiful old gazebo.”
It would be beautiful once he’d torn most of it down and replaced it with not-rotting wood. His cousin Angela wanted the gazebo as the focal point of what she called her “rustic elegance” theme for the reception. It was a rich people problem, but then he was good at solving those. “I’ll be here for about six weeks. I’ll stay for the wedding.”
And then he would roam for a while. It was what he’d done since he’d gotten out of the Army. His mother had passed and he’d found himself without a home to return to. He couldn’t seem to stay in one place for long, so he moved around, doing odd jobs, visiting with old friends. At first he’d told himself it was only until he’d gotten his head straight, but he was going on two years now and it was beginning to be normal to sleep on a friend’s sofa, and he knew every cheap motel in the Western United States.
Lately he’d started to think it might be nice to settle down somewhere, to find a job, to start his life. He just wasn’t sure how.
Helena started to lead him down the hallway. A heavenly smell hit his nose and his stomach growled, reminding him that he’d skipped lunch to work on this project at the church. His aunt kept strict mealtimes. He would need to hit a restaurant if he wanted to eat before the six p.m. supper.
“Well, if you need anything at all, you call me. If you need someone to show you around, I’ve got a granddaughter who knows the town very well. She would be thrilled to familiarize you with our Papillon. She works at the courthouse, knows all the best places to eat.” Helena had her keys in hand, but it looked like someone had left the door to the parking lot open. “I guess the reception’s started. We had a service for poor Irene Guidry today.”