“I’m just saying, is all.”
WHEN LUC GOT BACK to the B and B, he found Doc on the veranda with his guests, two elderly sisters from Baton Rouge. They were all drinking mint juleps and seemed to be getting along very well.
“Luc,” said Isabel, the older sister. Or maybe it was Ernestine. He got the two mixed up. “You didn’t tell us about the complimentary cocktails on the veranda. What a delightful surprise!”
How did he tell Isabel, or Ernestine, that the mint juleps were as much a surprise to him as to the guests?
“And such delightful company,” said Ernestine, simpering a bit. “Are you and the doctor related?”
“Uh, no.”
“But I knew his grandmother quite well,” Doc said with obvious fondness. “She and I used to sit on this very veranda when we were hardly more than teenagers, and sip mint juleps just like these.”
“Those were different times,” said Isabel dreamily. “When men were gentlemen.”
“Speaking of being a gentleman…” Doc pushed up from his rocking chair. “Excuse me, ladies.” He motioned for Luc to follow him inside. They entered the parlor, but neither of them sat down. Doc gave Luc a hard stare. “How was your day?”
Luc sighed. “You were right. Loretta doesn’t need a man in her life, and I’m not sure she’d let one in, anyway.”
“What happened?”
“I did exactly what you told me not to do. And it was a mistake.” Luc paused. “I made her cry.”
“Why? How? Damn it, Luc-”
“Chill out, I didn’t do anything wrong. I just stirred up some feelings she wasn’t ready to deal with.” He set the box of honey on the table. “Don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson. From now on it’s strictly hands off. Not that I don’t wish it could be otherwise.”
LUC TRIED TO RECONCILE himself with that decision. He tried hard. But there was no way to avoid Loretta when she delivered baked goods to his home every morning and talked to him at least twice a day regarding the VIP dinner, which would be staged at the town’s almost 200-year-old opera house.
She kept their conversations businesslike-overly so, in fact-and he got the idea she was every bit as uncomfortable as he was. But she was bound and determined to make the dinner a success and raise money for the opera house renovation, so talking with him was a necessity.
When the phone rang just after lunch on a Wednesday the week after their trip to New Orleans, Luc fully expected it to be Loretta, and he braced himself for his reaction. Just the sound of her voice did provocative things to him these days.
“La Petite Maison,” he said into the phone.
“Luc. What are you doing to promote the bed and breakfast at the Cajun music festival?”
“Grand-mère. How nice to hear from you.” And how typical of her not to start the conversation with any pleasantries. She never minced words, his grandmother.
“I just heard they’re expecting thousands of people at the festival. People who will drive all that way to hear a bunch of fiddle-playing would also be interested in our bed-and-breakfast. The Hotel Marchand is an official sponsor now. I don’t want La Petite Maison to be left out.”
“I was planning on having plenty of brochures printed up-”
“Not good enough. We must have a presence. Our B and B is one of the most visible, profitable businesses in Indigo.”
“Ooookay.” Actually, some of the ideas Adele Castille had mentioned were swimming around in Luc’s brain. He was always looking for ways to give his customers added value, so they would want to come back-and tell all their friends. “We can sponsor historic walking tours of Indigo. This town is packed with history.” The tragically romantic story behind the opera house was a doozy. “I can recruit some of the local teenagers to be guides.”
“Go on,” Celeste said, indicating neither approval nor disapproval.
“We can advertise our bayou cocktail cruises.”
Long silence. “When did we institute cocktail cruises?”
“We haven’t yet. We need a boat.”
“Mmm-hmm. What else?”
“Loretta, the woman who provides our baked goods, will have a booth,” he continued reluctantly. “She’s offered to share her space with me. She’s giving away free samples of her breads, which would be great advertising for the B and B.”
“How much does this booth cost?”
He named the very modest price.
“Get two. Or three. I want you to proceed with these ideas, Luc. Both Robichaux and Blanchard used to be important names in Indigo. We can’t simply let others lead the way. Do what you must, within reason, to ensure La Petite Maison is visible. I’ll send you some things you can use to decorate your booth. You can make it like a little museum. And look around for a boat. We used to have one when I was a girl, and all the young people would pile in for moonlight rides…” She halted the dreamy memory abruptly. “I want a progress report in a week’s time.” Not waiting for Luc to agree, she hung up.
“Oh, boy,” Luc muttered. As if he didn’t have enough to do helping out with the VIP dinner, he had shop for a boat, print up more advertising brochures-and turn an ordinary festival booth into a museum.
Celeste didn’t ask for much.
His first order of business was to call Loretta, a task he couldn’t help but look forward to. He took the cordless phone to the laundry room. Sheets and towels were in constant need of attention, and Luc had gotten into the habit of throwing in a load when he was on the phone. He dialed Loretta’s number from memory. Not that he’d had occasion to call her often, but he’d unwittingly memorized everything about Loretta. He even knew the license plate on her car.
“Indigo Bakery.”
“Loretta.” He loved saying her name, and he couldn’t help that he spoke it like a lover.
“Yes, Luc. What can I do for you?” Her voice was decidedly cool. He tried not to take it personally. She was no doubt deliberately distancing herself from him, just as he’d done with her. His news might not be all that welcome, after all.
“If the offer to share a booth at the festival still stands, I’d like to take you up on it.”
“Oh. Oh, sure, that’d be great,” she said, but Luc got the distinct impression she’d changed her mind. “I’m worried we might be a bit crowded, though. Three businesses, one booth.”
“That’s the good news. My grandmother has agreed to spring for three booths. We’ll have plenty of room.” He wasn’t sure if Celeste had intended for him to share the booths, but he’d pretend to have misunderstood.
“Wow. That’s very generous of her.”
“There’s a catch. We have to make this triple-sized booth highly visible and very fancy. Like a museum, Celeste said. She’ll pay for everything, but I was hoping you and your mom would have ideas for making it eye-catching.” And he outlined his plans for the bayou cruise, which had been Adele’s idea.
“But you don’t have a boat.”
“Celeste said to buy one.”
“Wow. This could be really cool. Hey, I know, you could have a raffle. Give away a free weekend for two. Get people to sign up, and you’ve got an awesome mailing list.”
“You could do the same-have a raffle for a big gift basket with bread and honey-”
“You’re right. Oh, but when will I ever have time to do all this? With the dinner-you wouldn’t believe what has to be done to the opera house just to meet code requirements. I’m going nuts already.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll work on it together.” Damn, he liked the sound of that way more than he should have. And what about his promise to Doc that he would leave Loretta alone? But how could he leave her alone when they would be working long hours side by side?
Hell, Doc would just have to understand. Celeste had spoken, and he knew as well as anyone that you couldn’t say no to Celeste.
“If you say so. We’ll need to get together and start making plans and shopping lists and- Oh, my God. Oh, my God!”