Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 02 - Skeletons of the Atchafalaya Read Free Page A

over Pa’s coming back home. Still,
I had three days. Time enough to take Mom aside and point
out the hundred reasons not to take him back.
    For the next thirty minutes or so, I waded through a sea
of boisterous nephews and nieces, smiling cousins, laughing aunts and uncles. I lost track of all the Broussards, the
Millers, the Venables, the Thibodeauxs, and the Melancons.
But I made it around to all of them, those down under the
trees on the lawn and those in the cool shadows of the
verandas that encircled each of the three floors. I paused in the kitchen to grab a slice of ham and make a sandwich
with Aunt lolande and sip some tea with Cousin Kay, all
the while trying to sort my feelings about Mom’s announcement.

    I hated leaving Leroi and Sally alone, but Giselle was
with them, and from the veranda, I noticed that some of
the Thibodeaux and Miller clans had joined the three.
    Aunt lolande came up to stand beside me in the front
entrance as I gazed with nostalgia at the familiar interior
of the old mansion I had known since I was a child. Directly in front of me was the grand staircase. To the right
of the stairs were the library and kitchen. Just before the
kitchen was the open dining area where we children were
never allowed to play.
    To my left was the living area, and adjoining it in the
far corner of the first floor was the parlor, a small intimate
room easily heated, and consequently widely used in the
colder months.
    In her black jeans and white blouse with the ruffled collar, Aunt lolande looked twenty years younger than her
sixty-something age. She wore her hair in a neatly coiffed
bouffant despite the fact that the style was fifty years out
of date. Maybe there was a fountain of youth somewhere
in the single life. “A.D., he make this old house right pretty,
don’t you think so, Tony?”
    She was right. I hated to admit it, but Uncle A.D. had
done a fine job restoring the old mansion. The floors were
hand-crafted center-cut pine planks polished to a high luster, and the furniture was Victorian cherry wood. The focal
point of the living area was the glittering crystal chandelier
suspended from the thirty-foot ceiling by what appeared to
be velvet ropes that disappeared into a glittering silver bubble on the ceiling, and then emerged from the bubble to
drape down to a silver cleat fastened to the wall next to the
liquor credenza in the dining area.
    When she saw me eyeing the ropes, lolande explained.
“That way, they can lower the chandelier if they gots to. A.D., he wants it just like it was when Garton Thibodeaux,
he buy house.”

    “Impressive,” I replied. And it was.
    “A.D., he want that there chandelier to be right over the
bottom of the stairs. He say it that way in the picture show,
Gone With the Wind.”
    All I remembered about the stairs in Gone With the Wind
was that Rhett carried Scarlet up them. But, if A.D. proclaimed there was a chandelier above, who was Ito argue?
    My cell phone rang. I excused myself and stepped out
on the veranda. It was Janice. Her little Miata convertible
had broken down just before the eastern entrance to the
eighteen-mile elevated span of the Interstate across the
swamp.
    “Don’t worry. I’ll be there in less than thirty minutes.”
After hanging up, I gazed out across the bay. The first-floor
veranda being twelve or so feet above the ground, I could
see a fair distance across the waters that were growing
choppy.
    I told Leroi about Janice. “You want to ride with me?”
    He hesitated, looking down at Sally. She smiled up at
him. “I’ll be fine here with Giselle.”
    Giselle nodded emphatically. “Sure she will. You boys
go on. Just be careful.”
    Leroi pointed to the house. “I’ve got to make a stop in
there first. Too much beer.”
    “Meet you at my truck. I parked next to you.” I hesitated,
then detoured by the washtubs and grabbed a couple cold
sodas, then a third one for Janice. That’s me, always