The Legacy Read Online Free PDF Page A

walls were white, the trim and floorboard wood-dark. The quilt—something he thought might be called a coverlet—was white, the pillows pink. Two small antique reproduction chairs flanked a dresser, complete with an ornate mirror and water pitcher. If he closed his eyes, he could easily believe he had stepped back in time, at least a hundred years.
    There was a knock at his door, followed quickly by another more insistent one. Paul got up to see who it was. There were none of those security peepholes in this building, which had to be nearly as old as the opera house. He pulled open the door, hoping whoever it was would go away fast.
    Marjo Savoy.
    He groaned. Not again.
    “Doc Landry downstairs was right,” Paul said.
    “Right? About what?”
    “You are as persistent as a tick on a hound dog.”
    He saw her bite back a retort, then suck in a breath. “I’m here to make peace.”
    “Peace, eh?” He arched a brow.
    “Well, sort of. I want to ask you to dinner.”
    For a second, the idea of going to dinner with the fiery Marjo intrigued him, but then he realized she wasn’t here to ask him on a date. “So you can introduce me to the local gumbo, or sell me on the idea of keeping the opera house? Sorry. Not interested.”
    She parked a fist on her hips. “You’re a photographer, right? For World magazine?”
    “How do you know that?”
    “Nothing stays a secret in the bayou. Soon as Slim Broussard’s wife saw a car she didn’t recognize driving around town, she was working the phone chain, finding out who you were.”
    “Well, I won’t be here long enough to make the society pages, I assure you.”
    She didn’t listen. “In your job, what do you take pictures of?”
    The question caught him off guard. “People, mostly. I’ve done pieces on a reindeer herder tribe in Siberia, an Incan mummy, modern-day pirates.”
    “Stories, you mean.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Then meet me at the Blue Moon Diner at five o’clock and I’ll tell you a story that will change your mind about leaving.”
    He put up a hand. “I really—”
    “ I’ll be there. And if you’re not, I’ll find you. Doc Landry forgot to mention that I also have the tracking ability of a hound dog.” She tossed him a grin, then left, leaving Paul wondering what the hell had just transpired.
    And how a woman like that could run roughshod over him so easily.

CHAPTER FOUR
    F IVE O’CLOCK came and went. Five-fifteen. Five-twenty. The waitress at the Blue Moon Diner finally stopped asking Marjo if she wanted to order and left her alone, except for the occasional ice-water refill. Marjo waited, patiently—well, as patiently as she could, considering she wasn’t sure she possessed the patience gene—for Paul Clermont to show.
    Earlier that Sunday afternoon she’d gone to work at the funeral home. There’d been no appointments, no funerals in progress, so she’d had a few minutes to get some work done and to also go online. She’d typed Paul Clermont’s name into Google, trying to find out who she was up against. Marjo was a woman who liked to be prepared, who wanted to know the odds—so she could beat them.
    What she’d seen had impressed her. Paul Clermont’s photos were more than just visual records. He captured the spirit—maybe even the soul—of his subjects. She felt as if she were part of his pictures, in the wilds of New Zealand, the refugee camps of Africa, the Appalachians of West Virginia. Surely theman who had photographed a rare albino gorilla in the Congo and a hidden pyramid chamber in Egypt could have some understanding of the historical importance of the Indigo Opera House.
    And if he couldn’t, well, she’d have to tie him up and keep him hostage in her back bedroom until he did.
    At five twenty-five, Paul entered the Blue Moon, looking so darn handsome she had to hate him on principle. He paused a moment in the doorway, framed by the setting October sun, which burnished his dark hair with gold. He had the broad