A Bad Boy is Good to Find

chapter 25

“So let me get this straight.” Lizzie was almost delirious with exhaustion and happiness. She, Con, Danny, Maisie, and scattered crew members were gathered in the big living room back at the house at two in the morning. Mercifully Dino and his camera were absent, probably up in Gia’s room. “Thomas Milford was not his grandfather, but Marie Ancelet, his wife, is Con’s real grandmother and she’s the original heir to the property?”

“Yes.” Maisie, flushed with excitement and chocolate martinis, had Danny’s big tattooed arm wrapped around her shoulders. “She was a famous circus performer. Called herself La Zoringa. She traveled all over the U.S. and Europe with a bunch of wild animals she’d trained. Snakes, crocodiles, that kind of thing.”

“It’s in the blood, bro.” Danny grinned.

“She appeared at Radio City Music Hall in the 1950’s and went on The Ed Sullivan Show three times. She made a lot of money and she’s the one who put together the collection of classic cars we saw yesterday. She was famous for driving them from one engagement to another, and she liked to work on them herself.”

“See what I’m saying?” Danny raised an eyebrow at Con and Lizzie.

“She sounds like quite a lady,” said Raoul, sitting on the sofa in his Japanese robe. “I’d like to have met her.”

“From what I gather she was estranged from her family,” Maisie continued. “Eyewitness News dug up some old newspaper articles in the New Orleans Times-Picayune. They didn’t approve of having a female snake charmer for a daughter in the thirties and forties, but her two brothers died in World War II, so she inherited the house when her mother died in 1956.”

“Do they have any idea who our real grandfather is?” asked Con. “If it’s not Thomas Milford.”

Maisie shook her head. “Not that I’ve heard. She married Thomas Milford in 1958. He was a respectable local businessman. Apparently, she wanted to settle in and join local society and he was her ticket into that rather closed elite.”

“I guess he wasn’t enough of a ticket to ride in the bedroom.” Raoul winked.

“Or maybe she just had a hard time getting pregnant by him.” Maisie shoved a strand of sweaty blonde hair out of her face. “She was nearly forty by then, and he was even older.”

“So she had to find a hot young stud to breed with.” Raoul pursed his lips.

“Raoul, would you keep your licentious thoughts to yourself?” Maisie glared at him. “Anyway, she died of a stroke when her daughter, Katherine, was only seven. The girl was left all alone with Thomas Milford and tutored at home because the local schools weren’t the right sort of place for a proper young lady—”

“No wonder she ran off with a handsome bad boy at the earliest possible opportunity.” Raoul blew on his nails.

Maisie rolled her eyes. “Listen to this. It’s kind of bizarre, but Louisiana succession law dictates that property descends to children—not to the spouse of the deceased. Even if there’s no will.”

Lizzie’s jaw dropped. “So even if Milford was her father, it was Con’s mother’s property the minute her mother died?”

“Exactly. Which could explain why Thomas Milford never opened the letters. He pretended Katherine was dead. As long as she was “missing” he had a right to keep the property for her. But if anyone learned she was alive, or if she came back claiming her rights…”

“She never knew she had any rights.” Con stared at Maisie. “And he wanted to make sure she never found out.”

“And Eric Stapleton wanted to make sure you never found out,” said Lizzie. “He wanted to cheat you out of your inheritance the way Thomas Milford cheated your mother. The house has been legally yours since the day your mother died.”

Con shook his head and blew out some air.

Lizzie squeezed him around the waist with her arm. “It really is yours.”

“I guess so.” He shrugged. “Still doesn’t feel right, but I think my mom would have been glad to see me get it. I guess fate works in mysterious ways.”

“Fate? I’d like some credit here.” Lizzie put her hands on her hips. “I had to fight you every step of the way. I guess I just knew you were born to be lord of the manor.”

“I don’t know about that, but I’m glad my grandma was a snake-charming car freak. That feels kind of natural somehow.” He flashed her a gator grin.

Maisie leaned forward. “So now the papers are all signed, sealed and delivered, there’s no further risk of Eric Stapleton getting his claws into the property, which he was dangerously close to owning. Eyewitness News is doing a thorough investigation into all his business dealings, and Leeza tells me they’ve already raked up a good deal of muck. He was trying to gain title to the cars by setting up some kind of dummy corporation.”

Con perked up. “So the cars are mine?”

Maisie nodded. “All yours to do what you like with. You could probably sell them and live off the proceeds for years.”

Lizzie felt Con stiffen, probably horrified at the blasphemous thought. She chuckled. “I won’t make you sell them,” she whispered in his ear.

“Danny should get half of them. I don’t care what the will says, this stuff is every bit as much his as mine.”

“I have everything I need, bro. Grandma Marie would have wanted you to have her cars.” Danny leaned down and grazed Maisie’s neck with his teeth, causing her face to turn bright pink. “Only one thing I want right now, and it tastes like chocolate.” Maisie melted like chocolate as he settled his mouth on hers for a hot and heavy kiss. After a solid minute of smooching with no regard for the gathered audience, Danny swept a limp and breathless Maisie up in his arms. “See y’all tomorrow morning for the wedding.”

The wedding! A surge of fear and excitement made Lizzie wonder if you could just explode with joy. They were going to do it for the cameras after all. Why not? Right now she wanted to share her happiness with everyone on the planet.

“I’m going to carry you up too, babe.” Con wrapped his arms around her.

“Maisie probably weighs about ninety-eight pounds soaking wet. I’m more of a challenge.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I enjoy a challenge.” Con flashed a dark glance at her. “As you know.” She shrieked as he slid his arm under her thighs and hoisted her into the air.



The sun was high in the sky by the time everything was ready for the ceremony next to the glittering bayou. Lizzie’s gown had been let out enough to allow deep breaths, which was lucky as she needed them to steady her nerves. Her feet had protested the pointy-toed shoes so vigorously that she’d decided to go barefoot, and the grass felt cool and crisp under her relieved feet. Her heavy, pearl-encrusted skirt trailed behind as she strolled down the lawn toward the bayou like a splendid faery queen.

Con, dressed in a trim black Valentino suit, looked excited, cheerful and breathtakingly handsome. He grabbed Maisie’s arm as she whisked past with her clipboard.

“Are you sure it’ll be legal? I want it to be really legal.”

“Conroy.” Maisie clucked her tongue and tossed her freshly blow-dried hair. “Do I ever do anything by halves? Of course it’s legal. We had all the permits in place before we even flew down here. Now, if you want it to be recognized by the Catholic Church, we could use the priest I suggested, but Raoul’s certificate from the Universal Life Church is every bit as good as far as the law is concerned and Lizzie keeps insisting—”

“We definitely want Raoul,” cut in Lizzie.

“My ears are ringing!” called Raoul, striding down the lawn, looking only slightly more elegant than Con in a double-breasted white suit with a matching cravat. “Are you ready for the sacred event, my children?”

“Yes,” said Con and Lizzie at once.

“You’ll be my third wedding. My first between a man and a woman.” He beamed proudly. “What are we waiting for?”

“Dino, are we ready?” yelled Maisie. Dino had a bank of equipment set up under a canopy. Tripod-mounted cameras ringed the white arbor set up for the ceremony. The arbor itself was festooned with a bright mix of flowers Gia had hastily bought from every florist within a twenty-mile radius. The resulting riot of color fit the occasion far better than Sven’s minimalist roses. In the background the bayou sparkled lazily under a bright blue sky.

“Danny!” yelled Maisie, making Lizzie jump.

“Yes, sugar?”

She startled again as Danny materialized a few feet away, sprawled on the ground in a shady copse of trees.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were right there.” Maisie flushed. Lizzie didn’t think Maisie had ever blushed—or shown emotion of any sort—before Danny turned up. Life was full of strange surprises.

Danny winked. Even in his rented gray suit he looked dangerously disreputable. A fun relative to have around. “I’ve got the rings.” He patted his pocket. “How’s my best woman?”

Maisie turned even redder and Lizzie couldn’t help smiling. Danny was Con’s best man, and Maisie was giving Lizzie away. Danny had decided that made her best woman.

Maisie glanced back at the house then hissed. “Let’s get this show on the road before those vultures from Eyewitness News swoop in and try to steal our thunder.”



Con had a big dumbass smile on his face that wouldn’t subside and he didn’t care. Lizzie glowed like a princess, and the sight of her in her wedding gown, with pearls in her glorious hair and bright roses in her cheeks, made his heart jump. He was torn between wanting to enjoy every single second of the ceremony and wanting to get her alone and take her lovingly apart, pearl by pearl.

In his capacity as officiant, Raoul had immediately nixed Maisie’s impressive but stodgy program of events. As the oldest member of the group and the one who’d attended the most weddings, he insisted he would put together the perfect wedding for Con and Lizzie, and at one a.m. that morning no one had the energy to argue with him. By breakfast he had a printed program of music, readings and vows compiled off the Internet that made Lizzie bawl.

Con wasn’t too crazy about anything that made his sweetheart cry, but Lizzie had insisted they keep it exactly as is, and he wasn’t going to argue. He took up his place at the bottom of the steps leading up to the arbor, under the watchful eye of a very serious Raoul.

The music started. Maisie’s planned string quartet had been replaced with a local Dixieland jazz band, who struck up a slow rendition of Louis Armstrong’s “Wonderful World.” There was no arguing with the skies of blue in Con’s mind as he turned and saw his lovely Lizzie walking up the flower-edged aisle on the arm of her cousin.

Their eyes met, hers sparkling. She bit her lip and he hoped she wasn’t going to cry. But if she did, hey, no problem. They were happy tears, right?

When she reached him he took her hand. She squeezed his palm, and he squeezed back as they climbed the two steps to the arbor together and stood facing each other, holding hands as Raoul had instructed.

Raoul himself radiated pomp and ceremony, and quite possibly divine majesty as well. “My name is Raoul Johnston, and I have the privilege of performing this ceremony today for Lizzie Hathaway and Conroy Beale. We’re here to celebrate the love they have found in each other and to witness and proclaim the joining together of these two persons in marriage.

His voice resonated across the lawn, each word ringing with dignity and sincerity. “This is the union of two individuals in heart, body, mind and spirit and is not to be entered into lightly, but reverently, honestly and deliberately.”

Con whispered “Amen!” He’d be eternally grateful they hadn’t gotten married just for show. He couldn’t have forgiven himself for that.

The first reading was from some children’s book and it had made Lizzie go completely to pieces during the rehearsal, so he held her hand tight as Maisie started to read it in her clear, ringing voice.

“‘The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams.

‘What is REAL?’ asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. ‘Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?’

‘Real isn't how you are made,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but Really loves you, then you become Real.’

‘Does it hurt?’ asked the Rabbit.

‘Sometimes,’ said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. ‘When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.’

‘Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,’ he asked, ‘or bit by bit?’

‘It doesn't happen all at once,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get all loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.’”



Lizzie’s breathing got a little erratic in the middle there, so he chafed her hand with his thumb, feeling kind of panicky and raw and very very real.

He wanted to kiss her right now, to lose himself in her softness, but Raoul had been strict about the importance of sticking to his planned order of events so he straightened his shoulders and drew in a long, slow breath.

The next reading was by Danny, who recited from memory, hands by his side. During the rehearsal, Con had recognized the familiar prayer from their mother’s prayer book, but hearing it now, at his own real wedding, he suddenly felt as if his mother was right there, kissing him on the cheek again and giving him her blessing. He squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed by the powerful sensation and by the almost painful joy of hearing his little brother’s voice after so many years not knowing if he was dead or alive. When he opened them, Danny was smiling at him and Lizzie.

“I missed you, bro,” he said. “And I’m not letting you and your lovely wife out of my sight ever again.”

“Deal,” Con croaked. Lizzie squeezed his hand.

Gia sang a song in her sweet clear voice, and Dino unveiled a limerick he’d composed for the occasion. The jazz band played a rousing interlude, then a hush fell. Con’s heart beat faster. It was time for the vows.

Raoul had written them. Very simple and basic. When the wedding was a charade they’d planned to just respond “I do” to the usual questions. No sense telling a whole bunch of heartbreaking lies on camera. Now he and Lizzie really meant it, they wanted to say the words aloud. And he was up first.

He took a deep breath. Lizzie’s eyes shone. His palms were sweating.

“I, Conroy Beale, take you, Lizzie Hathaway, to be my wife.” A fist of feeling knocked his breath away. Lizzie blinked, and he saw tears hovering behind her smile. She bit her pink lip with those pretty pearl teeth.

“I promise to stand by your side, for better or worse, for richer, for poorer…” He paused, and they both smiled. Been there, done that. “In sickness and in health. To be open and honest with you—” He looked her right in the eye, wanting her to know he meant it. “And to love and cherish you as long as we both shall live.”

He heaved a sigh of relief that he’d managed to remember it all. Again, he fought a fierce urge to seize Lizzie in his arms. To pick her right up and run away with her.

As Lizzie repeated the same vows, he grew lighter and lighter. He clung to her hands, as if he might lift up like a hot-air balloon if he wasn’t anchored to her. Her voice was clear and decisive, not a trace of nerves, just sheer conviction that melted the ground under his feet and made his heart swell.

“May I have the rings, please,” said Raoul.

Danny stepped forward and handed them to him, and Raoul placed Lizzie’s ring in Con’s hand. He knew there were some fancy words he was supposed to say, but they’d gone right out of his head.

“I love you, Lizzie.” He’d never meant anything more in his life and it made the words come out kind of choked, but he didn’t care.

He slid the delicate platinum band onto her finger. It didn’t go on right away, and he had to wiggle it and jiggle it to get it on. Appropriate considering their rocky path to the altar.

They smiled shyly to each other, then Lizzie, tears glittering in her eyes, said, “I love you too, Conroy Beale,” and pushed his ring on. He’d picked it himself from the selection Maisie brought. It was big and fat and gold and shouted, “I’m married.” The sight of it on his finger made him feel solid and steady on his feet again. Rooted in something permanent.

“You may now kiss the bride,” pronounced Raoul.

Thank God.

Con stepped forward and took Lizzie in his arms. His eyes shut as he closed his lips over hers. She melted around him, enclosing him in loving softness that made him want to cry with joy. Their tongues tangled and her fingers roamed into his hair as he held her tight, his palms pressing into the hard little pearls of her gown, squeezing her lush body as livid emotion burned through him.

Throat clearing by Raoul finally tugged him back to the present. They parted, painful, air rushing in where warm lips should be. Lizzie’s whole face glowed, her lips red and her cheeks pink.

“Lizzie and Conroy,” intoned Raoul, “we have heard your promise to share your lives in marriage. We recognize and respect the vows you have made here today before us, and it is my honor and joy to declare you married and partners in life...for life.”



“‘Partners in life’? Raoul, this isn’t a gay wedding, you know. Aren’t you supposed to say ‘man and wife’?” asked Maisie. They sat around the arbor-shaded dining table. The cameras had taken all the shots they needed and been turned off.

“I like the gender neutral approach.” Lizzie lifted a steaming crawdad from the platter in the center of the table. She’d gotten over her fear of the tasty critters. “Otherwise, why shouldn’t it be ‘woman and husband?’”

“Exactly.” Raoul delicately sucked the “butter.” “One has to change with the times. Some would say marriage has had its day, but I happen to think two people wanting to spend the rest of their lives together is about the most beautiful thing in the world.” He sighed as he wiped his fingers on a napkin.

“I agree.” Con raised his glass. “To forever.” Clinking ensued. “Now we’ve just got to get your parents back into the family circle. They’ll like this place.” Con glanced up at the mansion with a look of satisfaction. “And they’ll like me too once they get to know me. I’ll talk ’em around.”

“I bet you will. Charmer.” A smile crept across her mouth. “It’ll be a blast proving they were totally wrong about you.”

“Well,” Con winked. “Not totally wrong…” He leaned over and her cheek sizzled under another hot kiss. “So where shall we put your art studio? How about the old carriage house? Then you could do either canvases or cars, depending on what takes your fancy.”

Lizzie blinked. “I really could paint, couldn’t I?”

“Could? Are you nuts? You’re going to paint. You’ll be a big success too. How else do you plan to support me? We old-school aristos aren’t cheap to keep, you know.”

She cocked her head and narrowed her eyes at him, her mouth fighting a smile.

Maisie stabbed her fork in the air. “You could always sell one of the cars.”

“Well,” Con leaned back. “What I’d like to do is have fun fixing them up then rent them out for weddings and films and that kind of thing. If Lizzie’s cool with that.”

“I’m cool.” She smiled. “Con was up half the night fixing the Silver Ghost so we could drive away in it for the final shot.” When he’d finally got the engine to turn over and run, he looked as if he’d just had an orgasm. Well, almost. She rubbed the back of his hand. “I want you to do what makes you happy.”

“You make me happy.” His dark-eyed gaze tightened her chest.

“You make me happy too.”

“Uh, oh, I’m getting choked up again.” Raoul reached for a napkin.

“Oh, Raoul. You’re so sentimental.” Maisie snapped open a crawdad. “Marriage is a lot of hard work. At least from what I hear. I seem to have escaped that particular burden of responsibility for the time being. Lizzie obviously has more discerning taste in husbands than I do.”

“You had a lucky escape, Maisie,” said Danny with a chuckle. “You’ve got way too much Tabasco for a man like Dwight.”

Raoul peered at Maisie over his champagne flute. “Hmm. Dwight and Danny have the same initial. You wouldn’t even have to get the silver goblets re-etched.”

Maisie turned the color of a boiled crawdad. “I’m not marrying anyone.”

“Me either,” said Danny. “I’m too young and innocent.” He took a bite of french fry and gave Maisie a look that was anything but innocent.

Lizzie glanced sideways at Con. “You really should stop your brother toying with my cousin’s affections.”

“Yeah, I really should, shouldn’t I.” Con grinned. “But it’s too much fun to watch.”

Maisie squirmed, as if something untoward was going on under the table. “Stop that!” she hissed to Danny. She sat up in her chair and glared at Con. “Don’t get too cocky. Lizzie told me these Fleur-de-lis plates coordinate with a part of your anatomy?”

Lizzie bit her lip to stop a grin sneaking across her mouth. “They, um, celebrate Con’s French ancestry.”

“We have French ancestry?” Danny said through a mouthful.

“Who knows? Lizzie’s being polite about the flaming dagger tattooed on my ass.” He winked at her. “Want to see if it matches the plates?” He made a move like he was ready to unbutton his pants.

“I think we’ve all seen it, darling.” Raoul dabbed at his lips with a napkin. “That man of yours has no shame. He was ready to run after you in his birthday suit until we stopped him.”

“Clothes can get in the way.” The cocky assurance in his expression was undercut by a swell of emotion that echoed in Lizzie’s heart. She reached for his hand under the table cloth and gave it a squeeze.

“These two can’t wait until we all get lost,” Raoul muttered, picking up his glass.

“Only one more shot to do.” Maisie dusted bread crumbs off her hands. “The happy couple driving away in the Rolls.”

“Where are you going on the honeymoon?” asked Rog, after gulping back half a glass of wine.

“Right here. The most beautiful place on earth.” Con smiled. “But certain people need a closing shot for their big TV show so we’re going to take a drive to New Orleans before we settle in. Lizzie has some important business to take care of.”

“Really, what?” Maisie could never hide her curiosity.

“Oh, we’re just getting some items emblazoned with Con’s family crest. You know, letterhead, towels…” My butt. Lizzie chuckled at how scandalized Maisie would be if she knew her formerly prim cousin was getting a tattoo. It was the perfect way to celebrate her new badass self. A sexy secret between her and Con.

“Con, why did you tie all those shoes to the car bumper?” asked Raoul. “The Manolos will get mauled. It’s a travesty.”

“It’s an ancient wedding tradition,” said Maisie. “There are a variety of interpretations of its origins, dating back to medieval—”

“I just put ’em there in case Lizzie needs something to throw at me.” Con slid his arm around Lizzie’s shoulders. “We have a tradition of our own to keep up.”

Lizzie gasped. “Con! You’re terrible.”

“I know.” He winked. “And you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

THE END