False Pretenses - Kathy Herman [14]
“I love this place.” Vanessa pushed the last bite of corn bread into her mouth. “Too bad Zoe and Pierce aren’t working tonight. I’d like them to know we’re paying customers. I don’t want them to feel obligated to let us eat here free of charge.”
“We definitely need to get that straight,” Ethan said. “I have a feeling we’ll be eating here often. The shrimp gumbo was to die for, and number-one son devoured that pig in a blanket.” Ethan tickled Carter’s ribs, evoking a giggle.
“It’s a hot dog, Daddy.”
“I need to be more like you,” Ethan said to Vanessa, “and exercise some restraint with the bottomless bowl selections and the corn bread that comes with it. I really didn’t need that order of boudain.”
“I have no idea where you put it all. See that old gentleman sitting with the priest?” Vanessa nodded toward two customers occupying a nearby table. “The one with the untamed hairdo?”
“Uh-huh.”
“His name is pronounced Ay-bear and spelled H-E-B-E-R-T.”
“I’ve seen that name a lot down here,” Ethan said. “I would’ve gotten it wrong.”
“Zoe introduced me to him this morning. He’s going to be ninety-five on his next birthday. The white-haired man with him is Father Sam Fournier.”
“I didn’t catch Father Sam’s last name.”
Vanessa smiled. “It’s French. Four-nee-ay. He’s retired now, but he was rector at Saint Catherine’s for thirty years. That’s where Zoe and Pierce go. We really need to consider the churches we’ve visited and get serious about committing to one ourselves.”
“All three of us seem drawn to Grace Creek Bible Church. It’s small enough to be friendly and big enough to have lots going on. Sunday school was great. And Ben Auger’s a good preacher.” Ethan turned to Carter. “Remember the church with the big cross out front?”
“I liked the puppets. And the pwayers. And when we singed ‘Jesus Loves Me.’”
“Would you like it if we went there again?”
Carter gave a hearty nod. “Georgie wants to go too.”
“I’m sure Georgie is welcome there,” Vanessa said.
She sipped her iced raspberry tea and looked outside at the scores of tourists on the sidewalks along rue Madeline. “It’s seven o’clock. Time for the police to close the street and let the tourists take over.”
“And time for a certain little boy to take a bath.” Ethan tickled Carter’s ribs. “Are you looking forward to going to summer preschool again tomorrow?”
“Yes! Me and Georgie like Miss Pamela.”
“That’s good, because Mommy and I do too. Honey, you ready to head upstairs?”
“Whenever you are.” Vanessa folded her napkin and set it on the table. “I hope there’s a breeze so we can sit out on the gallery and listen to the band at Breaux’s. It’s relaxing.”
Ethan put his hand on hers. “You feeling any better about the situation out at the house?”
“Not really. The sheriff deputies didn’t have any answers, and I got the feeling they think it was you-know-who’s imagination talking. I’m glad they’re going to patrol the area a few times a day. But it’s not like the intruder is driving a car and parking it out front.”
Zoe strolled along rue Madeline, hand in hand with Pierce, the street still radiating warmth from the afternoon sun. The delicious aroma of caramel corn flavored the night air and might have made her mouth water had she not eaten her fill at Louie’s. She had a flashback of Vanessa Langley’s hourglass figure and suddenly felt chagrined that she no longer had a defined waistline.
“I’ve never seen so many tourists,” Pierce said. “The numbers are always more noticeable this time of night, when the street’s closed off. I sure hope we’re getting our fair share of business.”
Zoe surveyed the row of quaint shops on the south side of rue Madeline and the people waving amidst a garden of blooming plants on the galleries above. She moved her gaze to the building painted deep gold and trimmed in black and read the matching sign suspended from the gallery just above the entrance:
Zoe B’s Cajun Eatery
Pierce and Zoe Broussard, owners
Would the excitement of owning the eatery ever wear off? Wasn’t it her dream come true, even