Downtown Debutante

Marvin had sensed that lack in her life. He’d known exactly what to say, how to look at her, how to listen to her, to make her believe he valued her as a person and recognized her intelligence and talent.

Intelligence. Right. She’d been a real smart one, letting a weasel into the chicken house.

“Brenna, let’s go,” Heath said impatiently. “We have a lot more shops to check in the French Quarter alone.”

Brenna realized she’d been lost in thought as she gazed at an aquamarine brooch in the shape of a dragonfly. She could do dragonflies, she realized, sleek, modern critters that would look as if they’d lit for an instant on a scarf or jacket lapel, shimmering with pavé diamonds.

She shook her head to clear it. “Sorry. Can we stop and get something to eat?”

“Two lunches weren’t enough?”

“It’s almost four o’clock. Teatime. Come on, I’ll treat,” she said as they cut through the colorfully named Pirate’s Alley to Jackson Square, where the living mosaic of sidewalk artists, musicians and mimes took Brenna’s breath away.

Heath seemed not to notice any of it. Not even a child doing an energetic soft-shoe dance while another little boy played the banjo could coax a smile out of the stoic agent.

Brenna tossed a few coins into the kids’ banjo case. Then she spotted the Café du Monde, which she’d just read about in a brochure at the Magnolia Guest House.

“This way.” She could already smell the rich coffee and chicory, not to mention the beignets.

“How are you going to treat?” Heath asked. “I thought you were broke.”

“I have a little bit of money,” she hedged. She didn’t want to tell him about the twelve thousand dollars in the lining of her suitcase. With Cindy eloping to Italy for her honeymoon, she would never be able to prove where she’d gotten so much cash.

They lucked out and found a table near the edge of the café, where people-watching was at its best. Brenna dug into her order of beignets, which were light-as-a-cloud, doughnutlike pastries drowning in powdered sugar. They melted in her mouth—she’d never tasted anything so exquisite. She polished hers off in no time, washing them down with the rich coffee, then noticed Heath had only taken a couple of bites of his.

“Don’t you like the beignets?”

He made a face. “Too sweet.”

“There’s no such thing as too sweet.” She batted her eyelashes at him, which had the desired effect. He pushed his plate toward her.

“Go for it.”

“Thanks.” As she savored the last few bites of pure fat and carbs, she pondered her new partner. She was grateful he’d joined forces with her. The prospect of abandoning her pursuit of Marvin had depressed her. But Heath Packer wasn’t nearly as much fun as Sonya and Cindy had been. At least with Sonya she could dish about men and clothes and makeup. And Cindy had been just plain fun, with her baby and her puppy and her straightforward way of talking and looking at things.

Heath hardly said a word. He was always at attention, those blue eyes of his darting around on constant alert, as if bad guys were going to accost them at any second.

They would have a lot more fun if he would loosen up a little.

“So where are you from?” she asked. “I know you’re not from Texas because of the way you talk, but I can’t quite place the accent.”

“Most recently from Baltimore.”

“What brought you to Dallas? That’s where you work out of, right? Dallas?”

“I was transferred there.”

“Why? Was it something you requested, or does the FBI move people around arbitrarily?”

“It was a mutual decision.”

Brenna’s nose quivered. She sensed a story there. “I bet there’s a woman involved.”

He looked at her sharply. “What makes you say that?”

“Men don’t just move halfway across the country for no reason. So, you’re running to something or away from something. I doubt it’s anything work related, since you appear to be conscientious about your job. So it must be a woman.”

He gave her a look that said she was out of her tree, but he neither confirmed nor denied.

“Okay, I won’t pry. I’ve never been to Baltimore. Is it nice?”

“Yeah, it’s a nice city. Pretty harbor. Nice old row houses. Fancy ballpark.”

“But not your hometown.”

“What makes you say that?”

“There’s no passion in your voice. If you’d been born and raised there, you’d either love it or hate it.”

He took his time responding, but he finally did. “St. Louis.”

Brenna snapped her fingers. “Of course. You’ve got a midwestern accent, which to me sounds like no accent at all. I spent four years in Kansas City, at the Art Institute. I should have guessed.”

“You went to the Kansas City Art Institute?” He seemed surprised.

“I not only went there, I graduated,” she said proudly. It was her one tangible success, her single piece of evidence that she wasn’t a complete screwup. Her parents hadn’t come to her graduation. They hadn’t understood what a big deal it was. They thought art school was insignificant compared to law school or business school.

She and Heath lapsed into another silence, and Brenna flipped through a jewelry magazine she’d picked up at one of the stores they’d visited. Suddenly she stopped turning pages. Her heartbeat accelerated. “Oh, my God.”

“What?” Heath looked around, his right hand reaching inside his jacket for his gun.

“Back down, there, Mr. FBI man. It’s not a physical threat. Take a look at this.” She turned the magazine around and showed him the ad that had so captured her attention.

“Synthetic emeralds by mail?”

“Not that ad, this one.” She tapped impatiently on the one she meant. “Big gem-and-bead show. This weekend, right here in New Orleans. If I were wanting to unload some hot jewelry fast, that’s where I’d do it.”

“You think Marvin will be there?”

“I’d bet on it. It’s one of those shows where anybody with the money for a booth can exhibit anything they want.”

“We’ll go, then. The doors open this evening.” He paused, regarding her thoughtfully. “How come you didn’t know about this show before? You’re in the business.”

She shrugged. “There are so many shows these days I can’t keep track. Besides, once I got accepted to the IJC show, I totally forgot about everything else. I needed all the time I had to get ready for New York. I get a ton of jewelry-trade magazines, but I haven’t cracked one in weeks.”

“Guess Marvin blew your chances to make a big splash in New York, huh?”

She sighed. “I’ve been thinking about it. If I pull out of the show, they’ll probably never invite me to come back. The IJC is run by a bunch of snobs—cream-of-the-crop designers who want to protect their own positions as top dogs. On the other hand, if I show up with a less-than-stellar collection, they’ll also never ask me back.”