False Pretenses - Kathy Herman [17]
But even more was at stake than legalities. If the truth got out, Zoe B’s would be history. And so would her acceptance in the community. And what about her marriage? Was Pierce’s love for her solid enough to weather what would surely be perceived as betrayal?
She hurried into the bedroom and opened her lingerie drawer and put today’s note on the bottom with the other one. It was too soon to panic. She needed to stay calm and keep a clear head. Maybe the notes meant something else.
“You okay …? Zoe …?”
Zoe heard the voice but didn’t realize for a second where she was or who was talking.
She blinked and looked up into Pierce’s questioning eyes.
“You’ve been standing here at the stove for several minutes,” he said, “looking as if you’re in a daze. Is something wrong?”
“I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night. I skipped breakfast and shouldn’t have. I came to get something to eat.”
“You still bothered by your run-in with the new waitress yesterday?”
“I guess. I should probably go choose the uniforms before I change my mind.”
“Or go take a nap.”
Zoe raised an eyebrow. “I have to turn in the food order by four o’clock, or we’re going to run short. I’ll be fine. I just need a quick lunch and a cup of coffee.”
“Taste the gumbo, babe. It’s extraordinary today.”
“It’s always extraordinary.”
“Not like this.” Pierce flashed an uncharacteristically boyish grin, his face beaming. “I added an ingredient. Now it’s even better than Marie Nadeau’s. If I can duplicate this, and I’m pretty sure I can, I might surprise everyone and win the Gumbo Classic. That would sure be good for business.”
“And an incredible honor. So what’s the special ingredient?”
Pierce kept smiling and said nothing.
“You’re not going to tell me?”
He shook his head. “It’ll be more fun if you don’t know. And it’ll add to the intrigue if you get asked.” He took her hands in his. “Zoe, I think I finally nailed it. Come on, taste it.”
Had she ever seen him this confident before? This delighted with himself? He was almost giddy.
She took a tasting spoon out of the drawer, dipped it into the pot of simmering gumbo, and blew on it for a few seconds, then slowly sipped the gumbo and savored it. “Oh my … this is amazing!”
“Then you can taste the difference?”
“Definitely. I can’t identify what it is, but it’s distinct. And wonderful. I think Marie Nadeau is about to be dethroned, and I’m not just saying that. This is the best gumbo I’ve ever tasted.”
Pierce picked her up off the ground and spun her around. “I’m so excited, babe. I always dreamed of being a chef, but winning the Gumbo Classic and getting to display the Copper Ladle on the wall—well, that would be more than I ever dreamed possible. But whether I win or not, thanks for believing in me. You always have, and it means everything. You, Madame Broussard, are the other half of my heart. You know that, right?”
She did know that. And it worked both ways. Each had so much invested in the other. What if her deception had put all that in jeopardy?
“You know I feel the same. You’ve always been there for me, too.” Always.
God, I know what I did was wrong, but I had to keep it from Pierce. Please don’t let him find out. It’ll break his heart.
Vanessa parked her Honda Odyssey in front of Langley Manor and rolled down the windows, taking in the humid summer breeze thick with a sweet fragrance she had noticed before but couldn’t identify. Glints of sunlight filtered through a basket weave of live oak branches. And somewhere in the forest the jackhammer-like sound of a busy woodpecker echoed off the trees.
It was peaceful out here—so peaceful it seemed almost ridiculous to believe that a strange man had gotten into the house uninvited. Or that a sole lemon drop should be sufficient grounds for a sheriff’s investigation. Could Carter have imagined the man in the closet? It was certainly possible, but she had no intention of going inside the house by herself.
The mansion’s stately pillars were stained with two decades of mildew, but it wasn’t hard to envision