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easily caught up in what was
sure to be a heartbreak. Yet, the music played on lulling her to
sleep after a time.
    *****
     
    Paul stood outside the expensive suite of
offices, his heart pounding. He thought that he had prepared
himself for this moment but now knew differently. What would his
grandmother say if she were living? Marguerite had been a proud
woman who faced difficulty with a determination not to be defeated.
She had supported herself and Paul's father with a variety of back
breaking jobs. When she married Henry Honorè, Paul's father was two
years old. Henry raised Charles with the same love and strict
discipline he gave to the six other children they had. So much so,
that Paul was shocked to learn that Henry was not his natural
grandfather.
    "Hello, I'm here for a meeting with Mr.
Singleton. Paul Honorè." He stood nervously while the blonde
receptionist called to tell Singleton's secretary that he was
waiting.
    "Have a seat, Mr. Honorè. He'll be with you
shortly."
    Paul sat down in a comfortable leather chair.
He stared at the prints on the wall and tried not to get any more
jumpy than he was already by the nerve wracking wait. Although it
had only been fifteen minutes by his watch, it had seemed longer.
Finally, an older and more conservatively dressed woman came to the
reception area.
    "Mr. Honorè? Come this way. Mr. Singleton is
sorry for the delay; a long distance conference call took longer
than he had anticipated." She ushered him into a conference room
with a large oval-shaped oak conference table. He sat down and
began taking out his notebook.
    "Good to see you, Honorè. So we finally meet.
Have some coffee. Rose, you forgot to bring in the coffee." He
barked in irritation at his secretary, but to Paul, Kyle Singleton
was as ingratiating in his manner as he had been at their two
previous meetings. His dark brown hair was badly cut; his expensive
suit was a little too tight around his portly frame."No thanks, I'm
fine." Paul nodded a greeting at a second, younger man already
seated in the conference room.
    "Well, you just make yourself to home then.
Oh, where are my manners. This is my vice-president of operations--
ah, here you are." Singleton looked over Paul's shoulder.
    The second man walked into the room with the
air of one who felt he belonged no matter where he was. Tall and
distinguished, he stood erect despite his years. Paul guessed he
had to be at least seventy-nine, yet he had a thick head of silver
gray hair. His suit was just as expensive as Singleton's, but the
fit was perfect.
    "Claude, this is the young man who will
conduct what I'm sure will be an objective and unbiased assessment
of the site for our new treatment facility." Singleton's toothy
smirk implied that he wanted anything but that. "Paul Honorè,
Claude Trosclair."
    "How do you do? Kyle." Claude clapped
Singleton on the shoulder.
    "Oh yes, this is his grandson Quentin, our
senior vice president." Singleton grinned.
    With that simple greeting, Paul reached out
and shook hands with his grandfather and cousin.
     
     

Chapter 3
     
     
    Savannah stood gazing out of the shop window.
The leaves on the pin oak and sycamore trees had begun to turn
lovely shades of dark red and yellow. Mixed in with some of the
still green vegetation, the colors were a beautiful blend of
nature's best early fall redecoration. Bright sunshine spilled over
the lovely landscaped little downtown of Beau Chene. Typical for
southern Louisiana, late September had begun to foreshadow the
splendor of the change of seasons; not just from the change in the
leaves, but by the cooler nights. The temperature dropped only by
as little as five or ten degrees, but drop it did. Just as she had
done as a little girl when deep in thought or troubled, Savannah
absent-mindedly twisted a thick lock of her hair. Her return home
had much smoother than she had hoped, but she felt restless and
uneasy. The conflict over the Big River plant loomed on the horizon
like dark storm