Saria stared at him in shock. She looked from Bijou to Remy and shook her head, dropping into a chair.

“Tell me about your mother, Bijou,” Remy ordered, slipping the photographs into an envelope without more than a cursory inspection. He had no doubt they were excellent. Saria’s skills were known throughout the country, her reputation building fast. He didn’t want to distress Bijou any further.

“My mother?” she echoed, her voice even softer, taking on more of that smoky, sultry flavor. “I don’ know anythin’ at all about her. Well, just what Bodrie told me. He met her backstage at a concert and she was strikin’. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. But honestly, Bodrie couldn’t take his eyes off of most women.”

Remy was aware of Saria’s sharp glance from him to Bijou and back. She was smart, and she knew Remy didn’t bother with small talk. He interrogated people for a reason. He was good at it, sounding conversational and interested, putting whoever he was interrogating at ease and slipping in questions so easily no one knew how much information they actually gave up. If he was bringing up the uncomfortable question of Bijou’s mother, he was doing it for a reason.

He flicked one look at his sister, and she pressed her lips together, getting the message to keep her mouth closed.

“Did he ever talk about her family? Where she was from?”

Bijou shrugged. “He mentioned they came from someplace near Borneo. He always said she was exotic, but he never talked about her family. I got the impression they were dead.”

“You have a lot of money, Blue,” Remy pointed out. “Hire a PI and find out.”

“Why?” Bijou regarded him steadily over the rim of her coffee mug. “Why would I want to do that now? It isn’t as if Bodrie wasn’t known around the world. He went on world tours all the time. I ought to know. He dragged me along on most of them.” She took another drink of the aromatic coffee and gave another shrug. “I needed them when I was a child. Even knowing someone was out there fightin’ for me would have helped, but they didn’. They left me with him.”

Again, he couldn’t detect bitterness in her voice. Just resignation. She accepted that most people loved, even revered her father and thought he could do no wrong. She went her own way, made her life and made no apologies for it.

“I think it would be difficult,” Saria said to Remy, “if I was Bijou and I inherited all that money, to trust anyone comin’ out of the woodwork and claimin’ they were related. Money makes people do crazy things.”

“It comes with the territory, Saria,” Bijou said. “I learned that in school. Real friendship is a treasure and that’s why I always appreciated you. I knew if I came home, nothin’ would have changed between us.”

Remy was prouder in that moment of Saria than he’d ever been, and she was pretty extraordinary in his book. The fact that someone as wary as Bijou would have complete confidence in his sister when they hadn’t seen one another in several years, made him respect Saria all the more.

Saria laughed, dispelling some of the tension. “I’m definitely that wild girl runnin’ the swamps. I love it here. I don’ need a lot of money to be happy here, Bijou.”

Bijou’s smile was faint. “I bought my little club with the hopes that I can draw a crowd. I’m renovatin’ the little apartment above it.”

“You’re planning on livin’ above the club?” Remy nearly came out of his chair, but managed to force himself to stay outwardly calm. Was she insane? Bijou had more money than most in the world, in her own right she was huge in the entertainment business, she’d admitted to death threats and she was going to reside with no security right above the club where she sang.

“I thought it was a good idea,” Saria said, a little frown forming. She knew her brother’s tone. His voice went low and soft and drawled more than ever. “What’s wrong?” She looked from Bijou to Remy for an explanation.

“It’s nothin’, Remy,” Bijou said. “I told you.”

“Just a little matter of death threats,” Remy explained to Saria. “You know, nothin’ serious at all.”

“I don’ appreciate the sarcasm,” Bijou said, her eyes widening. “I don’ recall you bein’ so sarcastic.”

“That’s because you hero-worshipped him when he didn’ deserve it,” Saria pointed out, laughing all over again. “He has a bossy attitude and never lets you forget he’s the one runnin’ the show.”

Color crept up Bijou’s neck into her face. “I did not hero-worship him,” she denied. “He was bossy back then too.”

“There’s a difference between bein’ bossy, which I wasn’t, and bein’ the boss, which I am,” Remy said, in his mild voice. “In any case, worshippin’ me is a good idea. I’m all for it.”

Saria rolled her eyes and laughed, the sound joyful. Remy hadn’t seen Saria for a couple of weeks and he forgot how he felt in her company. She seemed relaxed and happy, her home always open and her smile ready. When had his sister become so different than the wild child he remembered? Sure, she still went her own way, but she was confident, not defiant. He liked being in her company. Her happiness radiated from her, surrounding everyone close to her. Her joy lifted those around her. She was definitely a woman, all grown up, married to a man closer to his age than hers. And she was happy.