Page 7 of The Match
“Yeah, I’ve heard about that. Skip to the most recent info. I don’t need her entire life story.”
“She worked in the Deveraux company for about eight years after graduating, right until she got married. After that, she immediately quit her job. Unless you count attending social events as a job. That was all she did for the past few years. Four of them, to be exact. Then she and Roger Cointreau divorced. She started a skincare company last year, after the divorce. If you ask me, it’s more of a vanity project.”
“You don’t know that,” I said, cutting him short. I didn’t like the tone he was using.
“Fair enough. I didn’t have time to dig into financials or anything.”
“Is she working with her brothers in any capacity?”
“Not that I could find. Honestly, I think she’s just a socialite who wants to look good.”
That got under my skin. Marcel was good at what he did, but lately he was pissing me off. I was paying him for information, not opinions.
“Is her company self-funded?”
“Yes. No investors. Then again, with the Deveraux name, it would’ve been impossible to get any.”
I agreed with him on that. It was a simple fact. They were the black sheep of the city.
“Thanks for all the info.”
“Anytime. You want me to dig more into the financials?”
“I’ll let you know if that’s necessary.” I didn’t want to waste too much time with this because I wasn’t going into business with her.
I arrived at the ranch a short while later. There was already another car in front of the fence. I immediately got out, grabbing the box of pralines that I’d gotten some time ago for Gaston and Felicia. During my first call, they told me how much they liked the LeBlanc & Broussard pralines, and I took the hint.
This place had good bones. The property was huge, with trimmed grass that butted up to the bayou that flowed at the edge of the property. There were horses outside, leisurely moving around, and several cabins spread about where they hosted patients during camps.
Even from this distance, I could tell that the cottages had seen better days. Several shingles were missing from the roofs, and the wood on the front porches needed improvement.
I jogged toward the main building and immediately saw a stunning brunette next to an elderly couple who I assumed were Gaston and Felicia. I could only see her profile, but it was impressive. She was wearing a tight skirt and a fancy blouse. Her dark hair reached to the middle of her back. As I approached, I noticed that she had thick dark eyebrows and red lips. I glanced down and cocked a brow. Who in their right mind would show up to a ranch in stilettos?
A few seconds later, I made the connection. This had to be a Grace Deveraux.
“Hey, everyone. Sorry I’m late,” I said. “I’m Zachary.”
Gaston waved his hand. “Don’t you worry. Ms. Deveraux just arrived also.”
“I’m Felicia,” his wife said, and I shook hands with them both.
“These are the pralines I promised,” I told them, holding out the box.
“Oh, aren’t you a delightful young man,” Felicia said, grabbing it from me.
Then I turned to face Grace Deveraux. Her features were striking. I was certain that I’d never seen her before in my life because if I had, I would’ve remembered her. She didn’t smile as she held her hand out to me.
“Nice to meet you,” I said in a cool voice.
“Likewise.”
I shook her hand briefly, and then she pulled it back—yanked it almost. I cocked a brow. This was an interesting start. Obviously she wasn’t happy that I was here.
“Let’s go inside so we can tell you a bit about what we do,” Felicia suggested.
“Why don’t we go see the stables first and look around the property while the sun’s still up?” I suggested.
“Son,” Gaston said, “the humidity is even worse out here in the bayou than in New Orleans. We’d be cooking. We can chat first, and then when the sun sets, we can go. I’ve got good mosquito repellent.”
