False Pretenses - Kathy Herman [9]
“But isn’t it great we live in a country where we’re allowed to speak our minds?” Tex took his red kerchief and dabbed his forehead. “No one’s forcin’ us to watch the tube.”
“Good point,” Father Sam said. “We can always slow the TV. Or just turn it off.”
Savannah came out of the kitchen, her smile infectious, her right hand balancing a round tray almost as wide as she was tall. “Here we are, fellas.”
Zoe studied the breakfast entrees as Savannah served them. Pain perdu for Father Sam. Eggs benedict for Tex. Beignets and a side of andouille sausage for Hebert. Beautifully arranged on the plates. A slice of orange and a sprig of mint. Pierce always made such a nice presentation.
“Will that do, everybody?” Savannah said. “Or is there something else I can bring y’all?”
“I think we’re good,” Tex said. “Still got half a pot of coffee.”
“Uh, since you asked”—Hebert picked up his knife and fork—“I could use a little o’ dat citrus marmalade on dese beignets.”
“Done. Anybody else?”
Father Sam smiled sheepishly. “More milk for my coffee?”
“Coming right up.”
Zoe heard a child’s voice and turned, surprised to see Vanessa and Carter Langley coming in the door.
“Miss Zoe, guess what?” Carter raced toward her, Georgie tucked under his arm. “Mommy said I could have cwepes!”
Zoe crouched next to Carter. His round eyes looked like big blue buttons, and his dimpled cheeks were flushed with sheer delight.
“Which flavor crepes would you like?” she said. “Blueberry, strawberry, banana, or apple?”
“I want apple!” Carter glanced over at his mother and then added, “Please.” He cupped his little hands around her ear and whispered, “I don’t like peelings—just the goodest part of apples, like the kind in apple pie.”
“Well, you’re in luck because that’s the kind we have. I’ll tell Mister Pierce to be sure to get all the peel off.”
“Where do you want us?” Vanessa glanced around the room. “How about that corner table, where you-know-who’s mess won’t be so obvious?”
“Oh, he’s fine. Sit wherever you’re comfortable. Breakfast is on the house.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Vanessa said.
“It’s the least I can do after Pierce’s blunt and unsolicited history lesson yesterday.” Zoe stroked Carter’s thick straight hair. “I hope you know he’s excited about you renting the upstairs apartment. We wouldn’t have rented it to just anybody. Y’all are so nice, and we know you’ll take care of it. How’s the back entrance working out for you?”
“It’s perfect. And with Carter in tow, it’s nice that our parking spots are close. Ethan and I love the apartment. Thanks for letting us share the balcony—I mean the gallery. We love to be out there in the evenings and watch the people on the sidewalks—and listen to the band playing at Breaux’s.”
“You like Cajun music?”
“Very much.” Vanessa’s face was suddenly animated. “Ethan’s grandfather grew up here and learned to play the accordion, banjo, and mandolin. He moved to Alexandria after he got married and for years played in a band called the Bayou Boys. Later on he learned to play the guitar and fiddle, too, and taught Ethan’s dad and uncles to play all of those. They still do.”
“Really?”
“They’re good, too. The band at Breaux’s reminds me of them. Ethan’s family has strong Cajun ties. I had intended to mention it to Pierce yesterday before he—”
“Insulted you?”
Vanessa’s cheeks turned as pink as her blouse. “I didn’t take it as an insult, but it was awkward. Maybe once he realizes that not everyone with British ancestry is the enemy, he’ll see that we can love and appreciate all the unique things about the Cajun culture.”
Zoe sighed. “Pierce needs to be around more people like you and Ethan. Ever since he quit teaching and became the chef here, he spends so much time back in that kitchen that he’s hardly ever exposed to anyone who isn’t Cajun. His world has gotten much too small. Please don’t judge him too harshly. He’s really a sweetheart.”
“I can see that. I was just caught off guard by his resentment