The Pepper In The Gumbo: A Cane River Romance (28 page)

            “The
power of gumbo,” he said. “Sorry about that. For some reason the towels that
got delivered are really…” He moved his hands close together. “I would have
invited you in, but all I could think of was the fact I couldn’t really turn
around.”

            A
guffaw burst out of her and Alice slapped a hand over her mouth.

            “If
I didn’t know better I’d think it was one of Andy’s pranks. But he’s stuck
using them, too, so it was probably just a glitch in the order.” Paul stuck his
hands in his pockets. “Any chance that dinner is still on offer?”

            “Of
course! But,” Alice glanced behind her. “I didn’t think I’d have guests and my
place is a bit of a mess.”

            He
peeked over her head. “It looks perfect to me, but we can go back to my place
if you want.”

            “Let
me just grab everything.” Alice dashed back to the counter. In seconds she was
back at the door and Paul snapped to attention, pretending he hadn’t just been
checking out her living room.

            “Floor-to-ceiling
bookshelves and lots of cats. I never would have guessed.”

            Alice
grinned. She liked that he was curious about her life, and if she’d had five
minutes to tidy up, she’d invite him to stay.

            They
walked down the hallway in silence and Alice snuck a glance at him. He seemed
totally at ease. But, of course, he wasn’t the one trying to make up for filing
a legal injunction.

            Once
they were in his kitchen, Paul hurried to the living room, straightening papers
and closing a few laptops. He stood near what looked like a copier for a few
seconds, stacking small sheets together and then carefully tucking them into an
envelope.

            As
soon as he was back in the kitchen, Alice took off the lid. “Gumbo.” She took
the book out from under her arm. “And a book of poetry I thought you might
like.”

            Paul
stared down at the copy of
The Seraphim and Other Poems
.
His mouth was open slightly and he seemed confused.

            Alice
rushed on. “The first day we met, you asked for a book of old poetry,
remember?”

            He
nodded, slowly reaching for the little volume, running a finger over the
letters on the cover.

            “I
have one just like it. This is the first time Elizabeth Barrett Browning
published under her own name, so it’s really special. She was announcing
herself to the world. No more pen names.” Alice swallowed. He heart was in her
throat. “And I remembered what you said at the zydeco festival. You quoted
Aurora
Leigh
so I thought you might like Elizabeth Barrett
Browning poetry.”

            He
still hadn’t said anything.

            “Do
you have bowls? We should dish this up while it’s hot. Do you know when Andy’ll
be back?” She knew she was jabbering but she couldn’t help it. He had the
oddest look on his face, as if she’d given him one of her cats.

            He
reached out as she started toward the cabinets, his hand wrapping around her
wrist. She looked down, surprised.

            “
Merci
,”
he said, his voice rough, the language of her childhood reaching out and
grabbing her heart. “I can’t believe that after everything I’ve done to your
life here, you still think you’re at fault.”

            She
watched the emotions flash over his face, feeling as if she was missing
something very important. She started to speak, but he pulled her close. The
stubble on his chin rasped against her skin as he pressed a kiss to her lips,
then her cheeks, then her eyes.

            “I’m
sorry,” she whispered back to him in Creole, forcing the words out. “I never
meant to bring all of this trouble on you.”

            He
held her face in his hands, switching to English. “And each man stands with his
face in the light of his own drawn sword, ready to do what a hero can.”

            Alice
smiled. “So, you do like Elizabeth Barrett Browning. And I guess that means you
accept my apology.”

            Paul
leaned forward as if he was going to kiss her again, and then seemed to decide
against it. He dropped his hands to her shoulders. “I need to tell you
something.”

            “Okay.”
She took a deep breath. Then another. “You hardly touched the book and you
smell like you’ve been handling dusty books all day. It’s really strange.” She
glanced up, laughing. “Not that I’m complaining. The combination of Paul-plus-old-books
is really fabulous.”

            He
wasn’t smiling. His gaze slid toward a piece of equipment in the living room and
back to her. “I tried to tell you before. At the festival.” He waved a hand
toward the machine and then said nothing. He acted like she should understand
what he was trying to say.

            Alice
followed his gaze to what looked like a fancy printer. It had a decal on the
side, the seraph logo of Paul’s company. On the table was the cover of a book
stripped of its pages. She walked toward it, tendrils of shock creeping up her
scalp. She reached out to pick it up, turning it over in her hands, unable to
comprehend how
The Duke’s Secret
ended up back in Natchitoches when she’d sent it to New York City. Piece by
piece, all the small details fell together. And then just as quickly, her life
was tumbling away around her, leaving her teetering on a ledge.

            The
smell on his hands the first day, the seraph logo, the poetry,
Beau
Geste
. Alice closed her eyes tight at her own blindness.
She’d never met another person who quoted poetry in real life. She’d willfully
ignored all the signs. How stupid she’d been.

            She
turned slowly, still holding the cover in her hands. She could see BWK now, the
strong jaw, the stubble, the curve of his mouth. All he needed was a fedora
tipped low over his face and a shelf of books behind him.

            BWK.
Her
friend
. Alice’s heart squeezed in her chest. He’d come to the zydeco
festival after all. He’d been in Natchitoches the whole time. He’d also known
about Norma Green and how her store had been threatened.
After everything
I’ve done to your life here.

             “You’ve
always wanted a building like this one,” she said, almost to herself.

            “What?”
Of all the things Paul had thought she would say, apparently this wasn’t one of
them.

            “You
want to turn it into an office building. The cable guys told me. That’s why you
wanted a good security system installed, too.” Alice rubbed her eyes. She
refused to cry now. “I’ve been so blind. All of these little signs I tried to
ignore. Nobody is that generous without a motive. I kept telling myself that
you weren’t trying to buy us all off. I tried and tried to make myself believe
you were just that nice.”

            He
stepped toward her. “Alice, it’s true. I paid off Norma Green but―”

            “You’re
so clever, really. I would never have agreed to it if I’d known it was you. But
as BWK you could walk in here, scope out the place, get set up, and make your
move. They call that a hostile take-over, right?”

            “I
don’t own this building. The security system was a good idea, to keep you and
your books safe. Everything is still in your name.” Paul said, frustration
coloring his words.

            “Your
mom came to my store and asked me to leave you alone. I thought that was so
sweet.” For some reason the thought of Mrs. Olivier hurt more than almost
anything else. “I really liked her, you know. Maybe she was more worried about
me than about you. She already knew, didn’t she? About how you bought the
building?”

            “Alice!
I didn’t buy your building and she doesn’t know anything about BWK.” Paul ran a
hand through his hair, tension in every line of his body.

            “Sorry,
but I just don’t believe you. It’s hard to trust someone who has lied to your
face every day you’ve known them.” Alice looked down at the cover of
The
Duke’s Secret
. “Ironic, really,” she whispered to
herself.

            She
turned toward the door, stopping to ask one more question. “You didn’t really
buy those Arthur Rackham prints for a friend, did you?”

            He
looked pained. “I admit it. That was a lie. I just wanted to make up for being
such a jerk.”

            “No,
Paul. That’s called buying people off.” She picked up the Browning book. “You
have one of these, right? Unless you already stripped the pages out of it and
fed it through your machine.”

            “Alice,
wait―” Paul said but the rest of his sentence was lost when she slammed
the door.

            She
arrived at her apartment, not having seen a single step of the way, tears
running down her cheeks. She should have trusted her first instinct and known
that Paul was busy buying off the town. Nobody was that generous, that
thoughtful. Everyone wanted money and power. It was part of the human
condition.

            She
stood in the middle of her living room, weeping and clutching
The
Seraphim and Other Poems
to her chest. After losing her
parents and Mr. Perrault, watching her grandmother slide into dementia, and
then having her brothers drift away into their own busy lives, Alice thought
the world couldn’t break her. She thought she was stronger than anything life
could throw at her. She certainly thought she was safe from someone she’d only met
a few weeks ago.

            Everything
she’d known about herself was shifting, changing. She wasn’t invincible. Her
comfortable life had been completely open to anyone who wished to plunder it,
and she hadn’t even known.

Everything is fraught with danger.
I love technology and I love science. It’s just always all in the way you use
it. You can’t really blame anything on the technology. It’s just the way people
use it, and it always has been.—Steve Martin

            “We’ve
got cosplayers on the sidewalk with broadswords and metal detectors,” Andy
said. He was staring out the front window.

            Paul
heaved himself off the couch and stood next to Andy. Tuesday had started with
the undeniable influx of out-of-towners searching for Alice’s rings, hoping to
win the grand prize at the opening.

            “They’re
scaring the locals. We should ask them to leave off the body armor until the
party.” Paul went back to the couch and slouched into the cushions, reopening
his book. The sun streamed through the window and it would have been ideal if
he hadn’t been in such a foul mood.

            “And
the chainmail bikinis. Not that I really object,” Andy said.

            Paul
grunted and turned a page.

            “Hey,
Sparkly Vampire, life is still worth living.” He came and sat on the coffee
table across from him. “Did her gumbo not taste like your mom’s? That stuff was
spicy. I felt like my mouth was melting.”

            “Gumbo’s
fine.”

            “Did
you tell her you’ve never really wanted to live with twenty cats?”

            “I
like cats.”

            “Wait,
did she decide you’re too rich and famous to date?”

            Paul
said nothing.

            Andy
said, “I had this roommate in my freshman year of college whose girlfriend
broke up with him and he decided to take it out on me. First, he just stopped
talking. Then, he stopped showering and emptying the trash. Finally, he decided
it was all my fault and one day, when I left my laptop unattended, he decided
to download a vicious cocktail of viruses and I had to nuke the hard drive from
orbit.”

             “Have
you checked your computer today?” Paul asked without looking up.

            “Funny.
But I’m just a little worried about you.”

            “Don’t
be. I’m fine.”

            “And
you are a terrible liar.”

            Paul
heaved a sigh and slammed the book closed. A tiny puff of dust appeared in the
sunlight, and the sight of it made his chest ache.

            “I
did something I probably shouldn’t have, even though I thought it was a good
idea at the time, but it actually makes me look like a terrible person.”

             “You’ve
just described every bad decision I ever made,” Andy said.

            “And
she’ll find out pretty soon that I’m not a terrible person. Not the way she
thinks I am,” Paul said.

            “Which
is good, right?”

            He
stared at the ceiling. “How many times can someone say they’re sorry, and you
accept that apology, before the hurt feelings don’t go away? Eventually, there
are too many misunderstandings and apologies. They start to build up.”

            Andy
shook his head. “My parents have been married forty-eight years. I don’t think
there’s a limit on it if you really love someone.”

            “Not
if you’ve already decided you’re in it for the long haul,” Paul said slowly.
“But when you’re just starting out…” He didn’t finish his sentence. He wanted
that long, long future with Alice, where they would weather the petty arguments
and bumps in the road and probably a few major failures on each side. But when those
things came too soon, before real trust was built, the relationship didn’t have
a chance.

            Paul
stood up. “I don’t even know why I’m thinking about this anymore. Romeo and
Juliet, remember?”

            “I
suppose,” Andy said, but he didn’t seem as sure as he had been before.

            Paul’s
cell phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Hello?”

            “I’m
here!” A high pitched squeal formed the last part of the word.

            “Holly?”
Paul swiveled and made eye contact with Andy. He’d forgotten to mention she
threatened a visit. Andy’s lip curled up in an expression of extreme loathing.

            “I’m
in Natch- ih- toechez,” she crowed. “I want to stay in a mansion. Where are the
mansions?”

            “Where
are you now?” Paul asked. He hoped she wouldn’t say on the boardwalk somewhere.

            “Right
outside your door, sweetie! I tried to get up there but you’ve got some big,
burly security boys who just won’t let me by.” Her voice had gone high and
girlish.

            “Be
right down.” Paul disconnected. “We’ve got trouble.”

            “She’s
not staying here,” Andy said. Then he raised his hands at Paul’s expression. “I
mean, obviously.”

            He
rubbed his face and then touched an icon on his phone. “Mama? How fast can you
make it to town?”

                                                                        ***

            “I’ve
always wanted this collection.” Karen turned over the little poetry book and
smiled. “I remember reading one of her poems in high school. Didn’t she marry a
poet, too?”

            “Robert
Browning.” Alice handed Karen the receipt and mustered a smile. “Enjoy. The
Sonnets
from The Portuguese
is probably one of the most quoted set
of poems. How do I love thee and all that.”

            Karen
tucked the receipt in her purse. She looked up, a frown line appearing between
her brows. “Are you okay? I don’t mean to be nosy, but you seem… sad.”

            Alice
straightened up. “No, no. Just tired. I didn’t sleep well.”

            “Oh,
I know. All the people coming in for the ScreenStop opening. I ran into a big
crowd of them in Babet’s Café and they were painted blue. I think they were
supposed to be some character in the game that’s coming out. I don’t really
play video games but I can’t wait for the opening!” She bounced on her toes.
“I’ve been dying to get a new iPad and if you buy one there before midnight,
you get a hundred dollar gift card.”

            Stacking
a few papers to the right of the register, Alice kept her expression neutral.
“Well, have fun and let me know how it goes.”

            “I
will, and thanks again,” Karen said, heading to the door. “You should really
go. It’s going to be amazing.”

            Alice
waved without answering. As soon as the door swung closed again, she sank onto
the stool behind the counter. She reached up for her parents’ rings and
realized they were gone, again. She closed her eyes for a second, imagining the
weight of the gold in her hand. They had always been like a quiet, reassuring
touch from her parents. No one else knew what they were, no one ever touched
them. Except for Paul. The image of him holding the rings in his hand flashed
through her mind and she pushed it away. Just like everything else, he had
somehow weaseled his way right into the middle, seeking out all her secrets,
finding all her weak spots.

            Alice
took a breath, redirecting her seething anger into trying to decide on her next
step. All she could hope for was that the week would pass quickly. She’d called
Mr. Crocket, the lawyer. Although he’d insisted that he couldn’t reveal who had
paid off Norma Green, Alice asked him to fax all the information to her as soon
as possible.

            She
picked up the phone, and then set it down again. She hated to bother Randy any
more than she had, but she desperately needed to know whether the building was
hers or not. Surely the land title would have to be signed over before the
building could legally change hands. Alice rubbed her eyes. She just didn’t
know what to do next. Logic told her that she’d been tricked, and Mr.
Perrault’s gift to her was going to disappear same way as everything else she’d
ever loved. But a small spark of hope still lived inside. It snuck up on her
when she wasn’t looking, bursting into a full fire of wishful thinking before
Alice tamped it back down. Smothering that bit of hope was the kindest thing
she could do for herself.

            The
bell tinkled again as another customer stepped through. Alice took one look and
knew this woman didn’t come from Natchitoches. If the black leather minidress
and the sky-high heels didn’t scream out-of-towner, the sheer number of gold
bangles and necklaces would have. Her blond hair was stick straight and
impossibly long. She wobbled into the shop, having trouble getting through the
door with her large, leather tote and rolling luggage.

            “Oh,
this is darling!” Her voice was high and breathy. She headed straight for
Alice. “I saw the cutest display on Pinterest that had a stack of old books
made into a table lamp.”

            “A
lamp set on a base of books?” Alice asked. That pretty much described her
entire decorating theme.

            “No,
they glued them all together and drilled a hole right down the center for the
cord.” The girl stared around. “Ooooh, with all these, I could have a bunch
made for my friends.”

            Alice
tried to keep her voice level. “I don’t think these are the books you’re
looking for.”

            She
pouted. “I suppose. I dunno.” Pulling her suitcase closer, she sighed. “Those
guards around Paul’s apartment are so mean. I told them I’m his girlfriend but
they just wouldn’t even call him.”

            Alice
froze. “His girlfriend?”

            “Well,
it’s complicated.” She tossed her hair over one shoulder. “But he invited me
down here for the opening and everything so I just need to reach him.”

            “I
have a phone if you need―”

            “Oh,
no, I just called him. He’s on his way.” She stared around the store. “I hope
he takes me to stay in a Southern mansion. Did you know they filmed
Twelve
Years a Slave
around here? That black actress--what’s her
name? Lupita something--she is so pretty. Too bad about her hair. Maybe she can
get extensions like me.” She shook her head so that her hair fell in a curtain
around her face.

            Alice
opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say so she closed it again. She’d
never figured Paul for the kind who went for beauty over brains, but Alice obviously
wasn’t the best judge of his character.

            The
door swung open and Mrs. Olivier walked through, her lips set in a thin line. She
had on a casual top with nice slacks, but her expression said she was ready for
business. Alice eased back toward the counter. She didn’t want to get involved
in some weird love triangle. This woman could have Paul. She was welcome to
him.

            “Holly,
how good to see you again,” Mrs. Olivier said. She held out both hands. Holly
hesitated to let herself be kissed on the cheek. “It’s been a long time. Two
years, right?”

            “Hi,
Rosie. Time flies when you’re…” Holly paused. She looked confused.

            “…having
fun.” The way Mrs. Olivier said it made it sound as if Holly had been
neglectful in contacting her. “Well, it’s always nice to see Paul’s friends.
I’ve got the perfect room reserved for you, down at the Violet Hill Bed and
Breakfast.”

            “Oh,
no, I’m sure Paul has something in mind.” Holly flipped her hair and peered
past Mrs. Olivier. “He’ll be right down.”

            “He’s
pretty busy, dear. He asked me to help you get settled. He wants you to be
comfortable so I’ll take you right down the boardwalk to this pretty little
place.” Mrs. Olivier was already reaching for Holly’s rolling luggage.

            “No!”
Holly gripped the handle hard and Alice thought for a moment they were going to
tussle over it. “I mean, he said he would be here.”

            “He’ll
see you in a few hours. Why don’t we get you settled in and then when you’re
all freshened up, you two can have some dinner?” Mrs. Olivier managed to
wrestle the luggage away from Holly, and headed for the door.

            She
sighed. “I suppose. I do feel a little grimy from the plane. Business class was
just packed. There were people on either side of me. Can you believe it?”

            “I
can, honey. I can.” Mrs. Olivier waved Holly through the door first. She turned
back and nodded to Alice. Her expression wasn’t anything like what Alice
expected. In fact, she winked as if they were co-conspirators in a plot. Alice
mustered a smile, unsure what exactly had just happened.

            When
they were gone, she stood up, walked to the door, and peeked at the boardwalk.
It was worse than it had been the other day, or even just that morning. The
sidewalk was packed with people, most of them focusing on the grass or the
pavement. A group of four men walked past, side-by-side, all dressed in green
armor, slowly sweeping metal detectors with fierce concentration. A girl
followed them on her knees, parting the grass as she made her way toward the
end of the block.