Sweet Mystery by Lynn Emery Page B

around here.” That was obvious, but it
made her move just a bit more toward him.
    “For sure.” Rae looked into his eyes. For a
moment neither spoke. “So how bad do you want it?” she asked.
    Her face was so close that Simon could count
the thick lashes framing those clear, brown eyes. “I, uh...” He
tried to focus.
    “The price, Mr. St. Cyr – what are you
offering me?”
    Simon steadied his breathing. “The property,
yes, the land.” He cleared his throat. “Five thousand an acre.”
    Rae gave a low whistle. “Not bad. Not bad at
all.”
    “This is waterfront property near a historic
town. After all, Belle Rose is about to celebrate one hundred and
sixty-seven years since its founding.”
    “I’ll need to discuss this with my brothers,
of course. By the way, I want to keep five acres at least. My dad’s
old dance hall is located a ways down the road from the house.” Rae
stood up. “That’s if I sell at all.”
    “No problem. That leaves us with twenty acres
– exactly what we need.” Simon rose, too.
    “You said ‘we.’ You have a partner?”
    Simon thought for a split second before
deciding to lay his cards on the table. “There is my grandfather.
He’s a silent partner in my business. And Darcy Jove and I are
working together to bring Pantheon in. His property is adjacent to
yours.”
    Rae’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need to discuss
this with my brothers. Forget it,” she said in a voice taut with
anger.
    Simon was afraid this would be her reaction.
“Ms. Dalcour, we’ve formed a corporation. Darcy won’t own the
land.”
    “You must think I’m seven different kinds of
fool. The Joves have been trying to take our property for over
fifty years,” Rae snapped and turned to go.
    “We’re offering to buy it at a fair price.
And you’ll still own five acres.” Simon blocked her exit. “Darcy
only owns fifteen percent of the company. If anyone ends up with
the land, it would be me. And we can draw up an agreement that I
have to give you first shot at buying it back if ever I want to
sell it.”
    “Oh, great, the St. Cyrs, another family that
trashed my grandfather’s name, would own it. That makes a big
difference.” Rae gave a grunt.
    “Listen, if it means anything to you, I never
heard Papa Joe say one bad thing about Mr. Vincent in all the years
I was growing up.” Simon was sincere. In fact, Papa Joe had been
careful to point out that there was no proof of Vincent Dalcour’s
guilt in the theft.
    “Yeah, well....” Rae looked at him, the scowl
on her face softening a bit.
    “You know, Papa Joe even tried to help your
dad. Of course, Mr. Lucien told him no.” Simon took one step toward
her.
    Rae chuckled. “Very diplomatic. Daddy told
him to kiss his you-know-what.” She lifted a shoulder. “Okay, so
the St. Cyrs didn’t exactly spit on us.”
    Simon took this as an encouraging sign.
“Look, I realize your family was put through a lot. But unless you
have plans to use all that land, why not hold onto a sizeable
amount and still make a profit?”
    Let me get back to you.” Rae studied him for
a moment. “The corner of her full mouth lifted. “You’re not a bad
pitch man at that.”
    “I want you to feel like I’m dealing with you
honestly. That’s all.” Simon felt a tingle at the small
compliment.
    “I appreciate it. I know I’m a bit prickly
about all this, but....”
    “Sure, I understand.”
    “See ya ‘round,” said Rae, putting on her
sunglasses.
    Simon’s heart sped up at the sight of her
about to leave. “Ms. Dalcour, maybe if we walked over the property
together, you’d get an even better picture. To explain to your
family, I mean.” He could not see her eyes behind the dark lenses.
“We could have lunch afterwards.” There, he’d said it. The seconds
beat out like hours while she stood considering his invitation.
    “Friday good?” she asked.
    “Yes, sure. I’ll pick you up around
ten-thirty.”
    “Okay.” Rae nodded and sauntered