The Bad Behavior of Belle Cantrell: A Novel

67 Pages·2005·2.25 MB·English

by  Loraine Despres

The
Bad
Behavior
of
Belle
Cantrell
Loraine
Despres
An e-book excerpt from
To Carl and David,
who taught this Southern girl most of what she knows
about men and other perils of modern life
Contents
Chapter 1
Belle Cantrell felt guilty about killing her husband, and she… 1
Chapter 2
“Mama, have you gone crazy?” Cady asked when Belle stepped… 25
Chapter 3
We don’t live in the dark ages anymore, Belle told… 37
Chapter 4
Belle was exhausted when she got back to the farm… 52
Chapter 5
The road from Gentry to Hammond was filled with bumps. 69
Chapter 6
“Come on, Loyal. Get a move on!” Belle called as… 86
Chapter 7
“Mama! Wake up!” 102
Chapter 8
July dripped into August with temperatures hovering in the
soggy… 120
Chapter 9
The sun was already blasting the earth at eight o’clock… 136
Chapter 10
The next morning, when Rachel picked up the newspapers at… 151
Chapter 11
Belle and Cady spent the night at the Monteleone Hotel… 167
Chapter 12
At lunch on Monday, Miss Effie asked Belle, “Tell me… 187
Chapter 13
Belle was flung into the steering wheel. Pain shot through… 204
Chapter 14
Rafe put down the phone. “Why won’t she take my… 217
Chapter 15
The next morning, Belle saddled up Susan B. and rode… 231
Chapter 16
"You’ve overstepped yourself, missy! You can’t fire my
overseer.” 237
Chapter 17
It was late Saturday afternoon. Bourrée LeBlanc was getting a… 259
Chapter 18
Monday evening, Sheriff George Goode drove Harry Chambers
to the… 270
Chapter 19
“Aunt Belle, I gotta talk to you,” Jimmy Lee said… 286
Chapter 20
Friday morning, when Belle drove into town, the heavens
opened… 296
Chapter 21
Belle’s wheels bit into the soft earth, splattering mud onto… 305
Chapter 22
Rafe wrapped his arms around his niece and then yelled… 315
Chapter 23
The morning light was pale and wan. Belle, wearing a… 331
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Books by Loraine Despres
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher

A lady shouldn’t do something she’s
going to feel guilty about later.
The Primer of Propriety
Chapter 1

Belle Cantrell felt guilty about killing her husband,
and she hated that. Feeling guilty, that is. A lady shouldn’t do
something she’s going to feel guilty about later was a rule Belle
kept firmly in mind, along with its corollary: No sense in feel-
ing guilty about all the little pleasures life has in store for you.
But Claude’s death hadn’t been a pleasure at all. She’d fallen
in love with him at fifteen, galloping down clay roads with the
leaves of autumn swirling around them. They’d discovered the
nooks and crannies of passion in his mother’s darkened parlor
on a rolling sea of dark wine velvet, amid a flotilla of lacy white
antimacassars, when his parents were away.
By sixteen she was pregnant. They married before the baby
was born, and in spite of numerous and persistent offers, Belle
had never had, nor wanted, another man in her sixteen years of
married life. It wasn’t as if she aspired to sainthood. She didn’t
even know if she’d have felt guilty about committing adultery,
2 Loraine Despres
but she knew better than to take the risk. Now, after almost a
year and a half of mourning, a peculiar, guilty longing had be-
gun to float around in the back waters of her mind, swamping
her at odd moments.
She decided to bob her hair.
She squared her shoulders as she approached Arnold’s
barbershop, housed in the Nix Hotel, where traveling men slept
on dirty sheets, laundered only occasionally but always freshly
ironed between guests. She’d never been inside a barbershop.
She’d read about exotic places called beauty parlors opening up
in big cities, where they applied youth-restoring creams to a
lady’s face and knew all the secrets of curling irons, but if you
wanted a haircut, you had to go to a barbershop. And in Gen-
try, Louisiana, that meant Arnold’s.
She paused on the street. Red and white paint was flaking off
the barber pole, showing the wood beneath it. Why hadn’t she
noticed it before? She peered through the plate-glass window,
streaked with grime. A balding man sat in the second chair, hid-
den under shaving cream, while Arnold scraped his face with a
straight-edged razor. Belle took a deep breath, drew herself up,
and, with head held high, opened the screen door. The odor of
day-old ashtrays and cheap cigars assaulted her. Arnold looked
up, his razor raised. His gaze was not welcoming.
At that moment, her stepfather, Calvin Nix, owner of the ho-
tel, sauntered in from the lobby. Mr. Nix was only five feet two,
but he was quick and clean. He sat down in the first chair for his
morning shave and Arnold’s all-important, stress-reducing, lay-
ing on of hot towels. A shoeshine boy crouched in obeisance at
his feet. Through the brown-speckled mirror, he saw his step-
daughter standing in the doorway. His face lit up. “What you
doing here, sugar?” His voice was a shade too welcoming.