Listen to Your Heart - Fern Michaels [20]
“I need some good cooks. I’m afraid I’ve overextended myself. My sister is wearing herself out. Like you said, it’s hard to find good help. I was thinking if some of your relatives and friends could give a few hours a day it would be wonderful. I have a van, so I could drive over here to pick everyone up and then bring them home. Cooking would be mostly late afternoon. I’ll pay whatever they want.”
“Pay! I can tell you right now none of them will take a penny. What they will do is trample both of us when I tell them. Take Réné for example. She’s an expert on Andouille. She has recipes you never dreamed of. Some of them are over a hundred years old, handed down through her family. She is the absolute best. Yvette is a master of jambalaya. She has recipes that have never gone beyond her family. Charlet is our gumbo specialist. They were all wonderful cooks in their day. As long as it doesn’t matter if their hands shake or they forget things, they’ll certainly agree to help you out.”
“That makes me feel a little better. I’ll snap them up right now. What’s your speciality, Marie?”
“Why do you think I bought the rice bowls? I was never a cook. Everything I ever cooked tasted the same. Bland, no matter how much spice or seasoning I put in things. I was very good at running my father’s business, though. When the children were little we had all kinds of help: a cook, a laundress, someone to clean, someone to care for the children. I never had to learn. The truth is, I hate the kitchen.”
“You sound like me. I even took cooking lessons. They gave me back my money. We have two parties this Saturday. A late-afternoon one with the food served at four o’clock and a dinner party served at eight o’clock. Is that too soon? I can leave a copy of the menu with you. Aren’t you working today, Marie?”
“I just go into the office a few hours early in the morning. I need to be here with my friends. Some of them aren’t as . . . spry as the others. The business runs itself more or less. It’s so hard to accept that you’ve been forgotten by those you love with all your heart. I have not seen my son in five years. He calls every few months to say hello. He called yesterday. The last time he called was a week before Christmas. I can’t stand the thought that he fits me into his schedule. Maybe I am a foolish old woman, but I don’t care. Every time I hear his voice my heart breaks a little more. It’s much too painful. Enough of my meandering here. Is there a young man in your life, chère?”
“No, not really. My sister tells me I’m too picky. Maybe I want bells and whistles. When I give my heart to someone it’s going to be forever. My mom gave my dad her heart. She told me once that she said those very words on their wedding day. She said, ‘I give you my heart forever and ever.’ I was little when she told me that, but it stayed with me. I do have a date tonight. We’re going to dinner at Commander’s Palace. I can’t believe I agreed to go out with someone with a ponytail. I met him when he came to hire us and his dog is the one who created that mess at the cottage. Then I met him again last night when I was walking my dog. He ended up walking me home. Our dogs are smitten with each other.”
“It sounds like the beginning of one of those romance novels. A bad one,” Marie said. “What else does he have going for him?”
“I think he might be rich. He travels a lot. He seems to love his dog. Good dresser, and he has a real nice body. He’s probably one of those love ’em and leave ’em types. I have no time for that. I don’t even know why