The thought twisted his gut, but he was self-aware enough to see the truth in his friend’s words. He might start out with all the goodwill in the world, but what happened a year from now when he was lonely in a new city and his girlfriend was right there and wanted to be with him, too? It would be easy to convince himself that she could finish up college later, transfer to a school close to him, and then when he moved again, another. Or it would be easy to slip up one night and start the family he wanted someday.
She could find someone else. She was beautiful and kind and funny. Any number of men would step up for the right to be with her.
“If the two of you are meant to be together, you’ll find your way back,” Dre said softly. “Let it happen when you’re both ready.”
His mother had married his father at the age of thirty-five. She’d seen the world, had adventures, gone to school, and worked as a professor before she’d settled down and had him. It had been an odd situation back then, but his mother hadn’t given in to societal pressures. Shouldn’t Sylvie have the same opportunities?
Was he ready for a real relationship? Or clinging to what he knew? He cared for Sylvie, but he wasn’t sure he was capable of real love.
“I’ll talk to her tomorrow. I’ll tell her it was a mistake for me to make a move on her before I go away.” He hadn’t meant to kiss her, but then it had felt right.
Dre stood and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I think it’s for the best, and I also think that somewhere down the line, who knows what can happen? Now come on. I’ll buy you dinner this time. But that means we’re eating fast food because I’m not a moneybags like you.”
Rene sighed but managed to smile at his best friend. “Absolutely not. We’re getting a proper meal. I’m leaving soon and I’m going to miss this place.”
Miss the place. Miss the food.
God, he was going to miss the girl.
chapter one
PAPILLON, LOUISIANA
Ten years later
Sylvie Martine sat in the small conference room and reflected on her life choices. It was barely noon, but it had already been a long day.
“He had no right to do what he did,” Leonard Denmore said, anger in his tone. “That was my friend he evicted. And with no cause.”
Justin Hardy’s eyes narrowed. “I had plenty of cause. Let’s talk about your friend trashing my property. Have you even read the lease you signed?”
“I signed that for your daddy, who would never, ever have forcibly evicted a good friend,” Leonard retorted.
They continued on, but the world had sort of faded into the background because she had bigger problems, and they all had to do with the upcoming wedding of her best friend’s brother. Seraphina Jefferys was one of her two best friends in the world. Her younger brother, Zep, was getting married in less than two months, and Sylvie didn’t have a dress or a date. How many weddings had she been to since she graduated from college? Seven. She’d been to seven weddings. She’d been a bridesmaid four times. She hadn’t even come close to putting on a wedding dress, hadn’t gotten a hint of an engagement ring. And Zep Guidry . . . Papillon’s player, never-kiss-the-same-girl-twice . . . was getting married.
Sylvie was facing down thirty. All her friends were married and having babies and building their families and she . . . she was stuck.
“You still have to do things right,” Leonard insisted. “There are protocols for eviction. I should have been able to hire an attorney.”
“Like you have money for an attorney,” Justin replied with a huff. “You can barely pay your rent. You’re lucky I’m not trying to evict you.”
People were starting to notice. If she’d stayed in DC, she would be just one more ambitious woman trying to make her way in the world. No one would question her single status. In fact, they would consider her young to think about settling down. Here in Papillon, she was practically an old maid.
Which shouldn’t matter. But it did.
Sometimes she wondered if she should run. Pack a bag, catch a plane, and disappear. Her momma would worry, but she could send her a postcard every now and then, letting her know she was all right and sane.
“How am I supposed to present a raccoon with an eviction notice? It can’t read,” Justin replied. “I would love to see you get that raccoon a lawyer. That would go over great with the judge. Although, who knows, maybe you people have raccoon court. It wouldn’t shock me.”
Sane was important. Sane would be nice. Sane was hard to find here in Papillon. Somewhere outside this little bayou town, there was a whole world where mayors were respected figures who were far more likely to deal with the press than to be forced to handle a conflict between a landlord and a tenant over a raccoon.
Come home, they’d said. Take over the mayor’s office. It’ll be easy, they’d all told her. It’s mostly ceremonial.
No one had talked to the citizens of Papillon about that, and it wasn’t like any of them would Google the word mayor and learn what a mayor’s actual duties were. They kind of treated her like a queen on a throne dispensing justice. But without any power at all. No crown for Sylvie.
Just endless meetings with citizens who all thought their problem needed to be solved immediately, but with absolutely no logical solutions at hand.
She’d taken to having this biweekly meeting where citizens could bring concerns to the mayor’s office. They only had city council meetings every six weeks, so she’d thought it would be great to have listening meetings with the citizenry. She’d envisioned herself truly communicating with the citizens and coming up with innovative plans to help out her hometown. At the time she’d been ready to show them all what she could bring to the table by having big conversations.
Nope. It was mostly complaints. She’d once listened to an entire group of protesters upset over Dixie’s Café changing their pancake recipe.
She’d gone to Tulane for this.
“Leonard, you have to see that you can’t keep a raccoon as a pet,” she began.
Leonard was eighty-three and stubborn as the day was long. He’d also lost his wife of fifty-two years six months before. Sylvie felt a deep well of compassion for the man.
“Brian is not a pet,” Leonard corrected. “He’s a friend.”
“He’s a potential source of rabies.” Justin owned the fourplex where Leonard lived. He also lived in one of the units. He’d recently inherited the property from his father and moved to Papillon to take over running the business. His father had been in the community for years, but Justin had rarely visited and didn’t seem to be fitting in. “I’m honestly not sure it doesn’t have rabies now. It threw grapes at me. And they were half eaten. I was perfectly in my rights to have it removed.”