The Legacy Read Free Page A

raised a good chunk of the money we need to finish the restoration and get it opened again. But we’re a long way from being able to buy it. None of the Valois heirs before him stood in our way. They were happy to see the space being used instead of going to waste. But now that Sophie’s moved the antique shop into Maude’s cottage, the opera house is just sitting there, not bringing in income—or anything else.”
    “Yeah, but the new location has really helped business for Past Perfect,” Cally said. “Sophie’s on cloud nine, even if she is being pulled in three directions at once, between commuting to Houston, the shop and her pregnancy.”
    “Not to mention keeping her new husband happy,” Marjo added. “Despite all those commitments, she’s been a big bonus to the restoration and the CajunFest committees. Her fund-raising experience helped us bring in some outside support for the festival. But then she got so busy, she needed to find some way to cut back. I told her the committee would be fine, that she should just see to her new family.”
    “You don’t have to take the whole thing on your shoulders, Marjo,” Cally chided. “And before you argue with me, you and I both know that’s what you tend to do.”
    “I’ve got the committee.”
    Cally’s pursed lips said she disagreed, but she didn’t say anything further.
    “Either way, Paul Clermont can’t just sell the opera house to become some office building or boutique.” Marjo rocked back in the chair. “I can’t let the opera house disappear, Cally. It may not be part of my family, but it’s a part of Indigo. And we need to preserve our history.”
    There were days when it seemed Indigo, and its past, was all Marjo had left of her family. Tante Julia lived in a nursing home in New Iberia. Marjo had a bachelor uncle who had moved to Lafayette, but in Indigo, there were no Savoys besides her and Gabriel. But it was more than that. After her parents had died, the people of Indigo had become her family, wrapping their sheltering arms around young Marjo. They’d been there whenever she needed them tohelp her raise Gabriel and continue the family funeral home business. They’d helped her get used to the adult shoes thrust on her at a young age.
    “Maybe it’s time to move forward, Marjo, instead of looking back.” Cally’s voice was soft, tinged with care. Marjo knew her friend meant more than just the opera house. The past year had been one of standing still for Marjo, when she knew she should be moving forward. It had seemed so much easier to embrace the status quo than add another element into an already precariously balanced life.
    “Sometimes keeping the past around reminds you of what’s important,” Marjo countered, running a palm along the arm of the rocker. “My mother loved that opera house.”
    “She did? I never knew that. Did she sing?”
    “No, but she loved music. She was from the city, born into a monied family, and she always missed that life. Whenever she went to a performance at the opera house—back then, there was the occasional musical by a local church, things like that—she felt like she had stepped back in time. For just a moment she could return to her old life and leave the bayou behind. She loved my father, but she hated Indigo.”
    “Why didn’t they ever move? Was it because the family business was here?”
    “Partly,” Marjo said. “But mainly because my mother couldn’t go back to what she had left. The minute she married a Cajun, her family cut her off—financially, physically and emotionally. It’s funnythat a hundred and fifty or so years after Alexandre and Amelie, a family would still sever blood ties because their daughter had married a man they found unsuitable.”
    “You never saw your grandparents?”
    Marjo shrugged. “I don’t think they even know Gabriel and I exist, assuming they’re still alive.”
    “And you haven’t wanted to contact them?”
    Marjo glanced out the window at