Page 5 of The Unseen

S ATURDAY MORNING WAS SUNNY, BUT NOT OVERLY HUMID, A PLEASANT spring day. As Aunt Rachel had suggested, last night, she and Sean had Ubered from the art show back to Belle Reve. Sean had wanted to stay a little longer, but he loved his aunt, and he knew she would be tiring.

My brother’s growing up, Nicole thought. Becoming the man he was meant to be.

As she brewed a pot of coffee, she thought of the opening, which had been a tremendous success. Even two of her dark pieces had sold.

She’d been surprised to see Lucas Devereaux there. He looked almost as good in his beige, lightweight summer jacket and brown slacks as he had in jeans and a body-hugging black T-shirt. Almost. But it was his eyes that intrigued her.

During his brief confrontation with Christian Villard, Lucas’s warm golden-brown eyes had turned so dark they looked nearly black. Beneath his polite facade, she had sensed a danger he kept carefully controlled.

That he rode a badass motorcycle no longer surprised her. Perhaps it was a way for him to release the darker side of his nature. Whatever it was, the combination of intelligence, compassion, and an edge of danger drew her to him—as a man hadn’t done in a very long time.

Nicole didn’t think Christian Villard was a threat, but she wasn’t sure about Lucas Devereaux.

Still, spending time with him last night, her attraction to him continued to grow.

When he’d stood next to Christian, she couldn’t help comparing the two.

Christian had taken her out to dinner a couple of times, but she’d found him a dull conversationalist who talked far too much about himself.

He had pressed her to sleep with him, actually driven her to his apartment and tried to convince her to come inside, but Nicole had never felt any physical attraction to him.

She had told him earlier that night that she wasn’t interested, but to Christian, no did not mean no. Which really pissed her off.

He had called her last week and apologized, promised to behave himself, and asked her to go to a party at his father’s estate in Baton Rouge. Phillipe Villard was a wealthy real estate developer, a direct descendant of Pierre and Therese-Louise Villard, the original builders of Belle Reve.

Though the Villards had sold the property to the Belmonds long ago, Phillipe seemed to feel as if it should still belong to him. He wanted to buy Belle Reve and turn it into a high-end resort.

Rachel wasn’t interested.

Still, Phillipe continued to press the issue, determined to end up owning the old estate.

Hearing footsteps, Nicole looked up to see Sean wandering into the kitchen. He was dressed in a navy-blue T-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts, with bedhead hair, yawning and scratching his chest.

He shuffled over to the refrigerator, took out a Pepsi, and popped the top.

“You did good last night,” he said. “Sold a lot of paintings, right?”

She smiled. “I sold more than I thought I would. Even some of the dark stuff.”

“That stuff is cool. I mean, they aren’t like your regular paintings, but I really like them.”

“Thanks.” She glanced at the stove. “I’m making oatmeal. You want some?”

“I’ll just have some Mini-Wheats.” He grabbed a bowl, filled it, added milk, and carried the bowl over to the breakfast table.

“Coach came over and talked to me at the gallery last night,” Sean said as he sat down and started to eat.

Nicole glanced in his direction.

Sean shoved in a mouthful of cereal and talked around it. “I think he likes you.”

Nicole kept stirring the oatmeal. “You think so?”

“Maybe. He isn’t married, you know.”

“I didn’t think so.” She had read in the newspaper he was single, but the way he was looking at her last night made it clear. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

“I heard some cool stuff about him the other day.”

“Oh, yeah?” She turned off the stove and poured the oatmeal into a bowl. “Like what?”

“You know he was a priest, right? Remember I told you people used to call him Father Luke.”

“You might have mentioned it—only about a dozen times.”

“Yeah, well, when he was a priest, he learned how to do stuff. He used to do exorcisms. You know, like when people get possessed by the devil? Father Luke could get rid of the evil.”

“That’s crazy.”

Sean shrugged. “That’s what Monty Holcomb said. Monty says sometimes Coach still does it. I guess you have to be a special kind of person, but if you are, the Church will let you do it even if you aren’t a priest.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“I do. Monty says he knows someone who knows someone who asked him to get rid of a demon and he did it.”

“I still don’t believe it.”

“I’m going to ask him.”

She glanced up. “I don’t think that’s a good idea—unless you think you’re going to have a run-in with the devil in the near future.”

Sean laughed. “No, but I’m still gonna ask him.”

Nicole just smiled. Sean had homework to do; then he planned to work on his model cars.

Her brother loved cars, especially fancy sports cars: Ferrari, Lamborghini, Porsche, Maserati.

His favorites were McLaren and Bugatti. She had helped him make a sort of workshop from an old outbuilding where horses and wagons were kept.

She and Sean had built a wall to close off a portion of the building. There was an electric heater and a window air conditioner so he could work out there year-round. He’d made it comfortable with an old leather couch, a discarded Formica-topped table, and a couple of wooden chairs.

Until his sentence was over, the teen’s movements were restricted. It was tough on a kid his age to be cooped up in the house all day. Nicole tried to make sure he had something to do to keep himself busy and out of trouble.

As for her, with the beautiful weather, she figured today was a good day to start a new painting. She collected the stuff she would need and was ready to go, but first she needed to check on Rachel.

As she crossed the gravel drive, Nicole hoped her aunt had enjoyed the gallery opening last night, since Rachel didn’t go out that often. Walking up on the porch, she gave a quick knock to let her aunt know she was coming inside, then reached down to open the front door. It was locked.

Finally. For weeks, Nicole had been trying to persuade her aunt to keep the house locked up. The modern world was dangerous. Sad as it was, bolting your doors at night was simply the wise thing to do.

Pulling her keys out of her pocket, Nicole opened the door and stepped into the entry. Ahead of her, the sweeping staircase climbed to the second floor. From there, a smaller staircase led up to the third floor, once the servants’ quarters and the nursery.

“Aunt Rachel?”

No answer. Nicole continued past the staircase, into the kitchen, then outside to the terrace overlooking the garden, but no one was there.

Rachel wasn’t in the dining room. A glance across the hall into the once-elegant front parlor, past the tall grandfather clock, and Nicole spotted her aunt sitting on one of the faded velvet settees that faced each other in front of the hearth. A book sat open in her lap.

“I guess you didn’t hear me calling you.”

As Rachel glanced up, her face looked paler than usual, and there were smudges beneath her eyes.

“Are you all right?” Nicole asked.

“I’m sorry. I must have been engrossed in my book.” Rachel’s smile looked forced.

“How are you feeling?” Nicole asked. “You were out later than usual last night.”

“I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep very well.”

Nicole sat down on the settee beside her. “Maybe you shouldn’t have stayed at the gallery so long.”

“It wasn’t that. Sean and I got home at a reasonable hour. It was just … I don’t know … I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. My mind kept wandering around in the past.” She managed another wan smile. “I’m sure I’ll sleep the sleep of the dead tonight.”

With her aunt’s poor health, Nicole would have preferred a different metaphor. “If you want, Sean and I could come over and spend the night. We could make popcorn and watch TV.”

A room off the kitchen, formerly the maid’s quarters, had been converted into a den. Unlike the rest of the house that suffered from years of wear and neglect, the den had a coat of fresh paint, a big flat-screen TV, and a comfortable leather sofa and chairs, furniture Nicole had purchased.

Oddly, it was the original rooms of the house her aunt preferred.

“I appreciate your offer,” Rachel said. “But after being out last night, I’m looking forward to a quiet evening to myself.”

Nicole nodded. “That’s probably a good idea.

” Her gaze ran over the threadbare Persian carpet, then moved to the pale pink walls that desperately needed painting.

The heavy rose damask draperies would fall apart with any attempt to clean them.

The gilded mirror over the fireplace’s ornate marble-mantel needed to be resilvered.

Phillipe Villard wanted to buy the mansion and remodel it completely, build condos out back and turn the entire property into a luxury resort.

The local historical society had expressed an interest, but they didn’t have enough money.

Sooner or later, Rachel wouldn’t have any choice but to take Villard’s offer.

Nicole’s insides tightened. She loved the old house almost as much as her aunt did.

“I better get going if I’m planning to get any work done,” she said, rising from the settee.

“What are you working on?” Rachel asked.

“I’m starting something new. I think I’ll just walk around, see what’s out there. I’ve done quite a few paintings of Belle Reve, but maybe I’ll see something new that will inspire me.”

“I’m sure you will. You have a wonderful eye. Perhaps some wildlife for a change. Birds or something.”

“Maybe.” She had always stayed with landscapes, but she was keeping an open mind. “Why don’t you lie down for a while, catch a nap?”

Rachel’s smile looked a little brighter. “Yes, perhaps I will.”

Nicole left her in the parlor and returned to the carriage house to collect her easel, a fresh canvas, and painting supplies. She spotted Sean leaving the house on his way to his man/boy cave, as Nicole thought of it.

With the blank canvas tucked under her arm and a basket of supplies, she managed to give him a wave and kept walking, excited to see what discovery she might make.