What She Doesn't Know by Beverly Barton Page A

him. Yvonne admired him. Over the years, she had watched him mature into Louis Royale’s right-hand man and had witnessed his protective caring nature when it came to his mother, his sister, and even to Clarice. He took his obligations seriously. During the past five years, when Louis’s health had begun to deteriorate, Max had taken over the bulk of responsibilities for the businesses and the family.
    Regardless of what others might think of Max, Yvonne had the greatest respect for him. He was accepted by the leaders of Mississippi society only because Louis had demanded it. Max had always been an outsider, an outcast who wasn’t a true blue blood. She understood bigotry, whether it was directed at people because of the color of their skin or because of their lack of pedigree.
    Despite the speculations of a few townspeople twenty years ago that perhaps an eighteen-year-old Max Devereaux had killed the Desmond sisters in order to clear the path for his mother to marry Louis, she had never taken those whispered innuendoes seriously. She believed in Max’s innocence as strongly as she believed in her brother Lemar’s innocence. Those rumors had died down less than a year after the murders, only to resurface again when Max’s wife, Felicia, had mysteriously disappeared nine years ago. Her body was found months later by a couple of fishermen in a swampy area of lowland near the river. Felicia’s murderer had never been caught and speculation had run wild in Sumarville that summer.
    “Quite a circus event they’ve got going on here,” Theron said, as he came up beside his mother. “I can just imagine what tomorrow’s funeral will be like.”
    Deep in thought, Yvonne hadn’t noticed her son approaching. She gasped softly, then grabbed his arm. “Thank you for coming.”
    “I’m here only as a favor to you. Otherwise, I’d steer clear of this sideshow.”
    She tugged on his arm. “Come with me. I want you to speak to Clarice and pay your condolences to Georgette and Mallory and Max.”
    Theron groaned, then glanced around the huge ornately decorated Magnolia Room. “So, Jolie didn’t show up. Smart woman.”
    “It’s not eight yet,” Yvonne said. “There’s still time for her to—”
    “Why would she come back? What’s here for her now?”
    “Her family.”
    “Only Clarice. I’m sure she doesn’t think of her stepmother, stepbrother, and half sister as family.”
    “No, she probably doesn’t. She couldn’t accept Louis’s marriage to Georgette so soon after Audrey’s death, but you’d think that once she grew up, she could have found it in her heart to forgive her father and at least come for a visit now and then.”
    “Louis Royale made his choices.”
    Yvonne sighed. “That’s something you and Jolie have in common—your inability to forgive.”
    Yvonne led her son through the milling crowd that lingered in the Magnolia Room. Despite the air-conditioning, a stifling warmth permeated the area. Too many people crammed into a small space. Too much body heat on a hot June night.
    “There’s Clarice.” Yvonne leaned closer to Theron as she whispered, “You be on your best behavior with her. Do you hear me? She’s mighty fond of you and doesn’t deserve anything from you but love and respect.”
    Clarice’s face beamed the moment she saw Theron. She held out her hands. Yvonne nudged him in the ribs. He took Clarice’s small lily-white hands in his big dark hands.
    “Thank you for coming.” Clarice squeezed his hands. “You’ve neglected to come around and see me since you’ve moved back to Sumarville.”
    “Yes, ma’am. Sorry about that, but I’ve been pretty busy getting settled in and setting up my practice.”
    Clarice removed one of her hands from Theron’s grip and reached out to the tall muscular man beside her. “Nowell, this is Yvonne’s son, Theron. He’s a brilliant young lawyer and he’s come home to Sumarville only recently.” Clarice turned to Theron. “My dear