Breakfast in Bed

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Breakfast in Bed Page 8

by Rochelle Alers


  Tonya grimaced when encountering stiffness in her back after sitting for hours behind the wheel of her newly purchased Honda Pilot. It had been years since she had owned a car. Public transportation had become her mode of getting around, but living and working in Manhattan was different from living and working in New Orleans—a city that would take her time to learn to navigate.

  “All I want is a cool drink, a warm shower, and a bed.”

  Hannah hugged Tonya. “When you called to tell me you were driving straight through, I brought over something for you to eat. It’s in the fridge. You just have to heat it in the microwave. Speaking of food, you don’t have to do any shopping for a while. The kitchen cabinets are stocked and so is the freezer. And if there is anything you need, then just raid the pantry in the main house.”

  She returned the hug, and then pulled back to look at the tall, green-eyed natural blonde. “Thank you. Marriage agrees with you,” she teased, smiling.

  Hannah returned her smile. “That’s because being married to St. John agrees with me. I never thought I could be as happy and contented as I am now.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Come with me,” she said, picking up the large quilted weekender and leading the way along a flagstone path around the house to where two guesthouses stood several hundred yards from each other. “We’ll talk once you’ve had something to drink and eat. I would’ve invited you to come to the house in Marigny, but St. John has been hosting off-campus meetings with those in his department to discuss a few courses they either want to add or drop, and because of their different schedules, it’s almost impossible to meet on campus.”

  Tonya watched as Hannah unlocked the door and stood to one side for her to enter. During her last visit she had surveyed the structure of less than one thousand feet of living space where she would live until the restoration and renovations to the main house were completed. There was a parlor, dining area, eat-in kitchen, two bedrooms, and a bathroom with a separate shower stall. The guesthouse had been updated over the years. A stacked washer-dryer was concealed behind the doors of a utility closet, which eliminated the need to use the laundry room in the main house. The wood floors gleamed with a coat of wax, and the familiar scent of lemon lingered in the air. Hannah told her the cleaning company had worked diligently to get the guesthouse ready before her arrival.

  “How are the renovations coming?”

  “Not fast enough, but I’ve decided not to stress out over it, because the approval for installing the elevator is still pending. Meanwhile, work will begin on the upstairs suites next week, now that all the furniture has been removed.”

  “Where did you put the furniture?” DuPont House was filled with priceless antiques dating back several centuries.

  “An adjuster from the insurance company catalogued them before they were crated and taken to a warehouse. I delayed emptying the suites on the first floor because my cousins don’t want to move in with me and St. John until the last possible moment. They claim they don’t want to encroach on the newlyweds.”

  “They’re right,” Tonya said in agreement. “That’s why I suggested moving in here. Not only do you need your privacy, but also time to get accustomed to living with each other. By the way, how are your cousins enjoying their retirement?”

  Shaking her head, Hannah rolled her eyes upward. “I rarely get to see them. If they’re not attending a home or away Saints’ game, then they’re cruising with a group of retired teachers who refer to themselves as the Wild Bunch. They’re gone so much that Smokey now lives with me and St. John.”

  “Didn’t they just come back from a four-month cruise?”

  Hannah nodded. “Right now they’re embarking on either weeklong or four-day cruises to the eastern or western Caribbean. They’ve been talking about taking the Queen Elizabeth 2 world voyage next year. The ship leaves New York early January and doesn’t return until mid-May.”

  It was Tonya’s turn to shake her head. “I like the ocean, but I’d rather sit on a beach and watch it rather than live on it for months.”

  “I’m with you. Where do you want me to put this bag?”

  Tonya flopped down on a chintz-covered loveseat and kicked off her running shoes. “Just leave it by the door. I’ll empty it later.”

  Hannah folded her body down to a matching armchair and crossed her feet at the ankles. “The boxes you shipped are stacked in the smaller bedroom. I left remote devices to open the gates and another one to open the garage on the kitchen countertop. You’ll also find an extra set of keys for this place and the main house. Now that I’m living in Marigny, there’s room in the garage for your vehicle. I noticed you have New York plates on your SUV. Is it a rental or a lease?”

  “Neither. It was my Christmas gift to me.” Within minutes of test-driving the Honda Pilot, Tonya fell in love with the spacious sport utility vehicle. “Once I moved to Manhattan I got rid of my car, because I didn’t want to get up every other morning to move it from one side of the street to the other. And it costs a small fortune to garage it.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir, Tonya. It was cheaper for me to take a car service than have a car when I lived there. By the way, how’s Nydia?”

  Tonya smiled. “She’s great. She loves the apartment and the neighborhood. I couldn’t have asked for a better person to sublet my place, because she’s quiet and fastidious. And I must say she’s quite the cook when it comes to preparing Latin dishes. She taught me how to make sofrito and mojito, which is a garlic dipping sauce that’s out of this world.”

  Hannah nodded. “I couldn’t get enough of her rice and peas when she came down last summer.”

  “I can make them, too,” Tonya said boastfully.

  “You know you’re going to have to put your money where your mouth is,” Hannah teased. “Maybe one of these nights you can make us a traditional Latin dinner.”

  “Consider it done.” Tonya wanted to tell Hannah that Nydia moving in November rather than January proved beneficial to them both. Nydia didn’t have a landlady clocking her every move, and she had more privacy and a lot more room than she had had in the studio apartment.

  “How is she making out with her boyfriend?” Hannah asked.

  Tonya shook her head. “I wouldn’t know, because she’s never mentioned him again after she moved in. And if she’s not seeing clients, or spending hours doing their books, then she’s visiting her relatives, who happen to live within walking distance.”

  “I’m glad everything’s working out for her.” Hannah pushed to her feet. “I’m sitting here running my mouth when you need to settle in and unwind. If you want to hang out together, then send me a text. St. John and I are hosting a Super Bowl party this year, so I’d really appreciate it if you can give me suggestions for a menu. I want something different from the quintessential wings, guacamole, and chips.”

  “Why don’t you have Eustace cater it?”

  “I would if he didn’t have several other parties he’s catering the same day. However, he did say he would stop by later.”

  Tonya smiled. “Not to worry. I’ll come up with something a bit more unconventional. How many are you expecting?”

  “Twenty have committed to coming.”

  “I’ll make enough for thirty.”

  Hannah held up a hand. “I didn’t ask you to help so you’d have to—”

  “Stop, Hannah,” Tonya interrupted in a quiet voice. “I want to cook because it’s free advertising for once I open the supper club. How will folks know what I can do if they don’t get the opportunity to sample my dishes?”

  Hannah’s pale eyebrows lifted slightly. “You’re right about that. You can do the cooking, but only if you allow me to pay you. I need you to give a shopping list, and I’ll make certain you’ll have whatever you need.”

  Tonya bit down on her lower lip. “If you mention paying me again, I’ll cut you.”

  Throwing back her head, Hannah laughed until she nearly lost her breath. “Now you
sound like me.”

  “Do you think you have a monopoly on threatening to cut folks?” She remembered Hannah threatening to cut her when she attempted to pick up the check for a restaurant dinner they had shared with Jasmine and Nydia, and then again when they threatened to sleep with St. John if she did not marry him.

  “I really wouldn’t have cut anyone.”

  “Neither would I, because I don’t like violence.” Tonya’s mind was working overtime as to what she would put together for the Super Bowl gathering. “Give me a few days to come up with a menu you like, then we’ll go shopping together.”

  “You’ve got a deal, partner.”

  Partner. The word lingered with Tonya long after Hannah walked out. After drawing all the shades in the house, she picked up the weekender and removed a bag containing bottles of bath gel, shampoo, conditioner, and body moisturizer. After a shower, she planned to brew a cup of coffee with plenty of milk, then get into bed and read. Some people watched television before going to sleep, but Tonya found reading a lot more relaxing. Although she had downloaded many books onto her tablet, she still liked holding a physical book. There were some nights when she fell asleep and woke to find the book had fallen off the bed onto the floor.

  Forty minutes later she climbed into bed, pulled the sheet and lightweight blanket over her shoulders, and went to sleep, knowing when the sun rose she would mark her first day as a transplanted Louisianan.

  * * *

  Tonya woke, slightly disoriented, and then she remembered where she was. Stretching her arms above her head, she smiled. Today marked the first day in her journey to fulfill her destiny. Although it would be months before she opened the restaurant, she felt as if she had been wrapped in an invisible cocoon of peace and happiness she had not experienced since she held her infant daughter in her arms for the first time.

  Turning over, she reached for her cell phone on the bedside table. It was minutes before four. It was apparent her body’s circadian rhythm was still in the Eastern time zone. And although she had not had to get up early since being downsized eight months earlier, old habits were hard to shake. Then she had to be at the bank at six to help prepare breakfast for the employees or their elite clients. She had worked long hours, but she was generously compensated for what would routinely become twelve-hour workdays.

  A silent voice told her to stay in bed, but Tonya had never been one to laze away the morning. There were boxes to unpack. She had packed and shipped all of her clothes and personal items to DuPont House two days before she left New York to drive to Florida, leaving several outfits she would wear during the week she spent with her parents. She had also called Eustace to inform him that she was returning to New Orleans and she would stop in and help him prepare dishes for Chez Toussaints’ lunch crowd.

  Sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the four-poster bed, Tonya flicked on the bedside lamp and walked out of the bedroom to the bathroom.

  The sun was up and the Garden District was alive with activity when Tonya got into her car and drove to Tremé. It had taken her less than an hour to unpack the boxes and put everything away. She had brought several heavy jackets and two winter coats despite the fact that the temperatures rarely dipped below fifty degrees.

  She managed to find the restaurant without using the Honda’s GPS and pulled into the parking lot behind the building. It was six thirty, and there was one other vehicle in the lot along with the two white vans. She recognized the SUV immediately. It belonged to Gage. Her brow creased in worry. Had something happened to Eustace since their recent conversation?

  Tonya did not want to think the worst when she got out and rang the back doorbell. The door opened and she came face-to-face with Gage Toussaint. It was obvious he was surprised to see her as he stared at her for several seconds.

  She met his gray-green eyes, wondering what was going on behind the luminous orbs. “May I come in?”

  “Sure . . . yes,” he stammered and opened the door wider.

  Tonya did not want to believe the man was even more attractive than she remembered. He had covered his hair with a black baseball cap. A sprinkling of gray in his stubble served to enhance his masculine beauty. A white tee, relaxed jeans, and running shoes were not what she considered required attire for a high school teacher.

  “I called the other day and told Eustace I was coming in.”

  “Eustace didn’t say anything to me.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Does your brother tell you everything?”

  A hint of a smile tilted the corners of Gage’s mouth. “Apparently he doesn’t. Put your stuff away and come into the kitchen.”

  Tonya resisted the urge to salute him as she slipped out of her lightweight jacket and left it on a hook in the storeroom. Reaching into her oversize tote, she took out a large bandana and covered her head, and then removed a rolled-up canvas with an assortment of chef’s knives and walked into the kitchen. It was ablaze with lights, while a large stockpot simmered on the stove.

  “Where’s Eustace?” she asked Gage when he handed her an apron.

  “He’s working out. He’ll be here around eight.”

  She blinked slowly. “Working out?”

  “Yes. His New Year’s resolution is to lose weight, lower his cholesterol and blood pressure before his high school’s fortieth reunion, and I’ve offered to come in early Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays cover for him.”

  Tonya smiled. “That’s great.”

  Gage flashed a warm smile. “What’s great is that he’s already lost five pounds. His goal is to lose ten pounds a month. By the time his reunion rolls around in May, he wants to tip the scales at two hundred.”

  She quickly did the math in her head. “Your brother weighs over two-forty?”

  Gage nodded. “Eustace was always a big boy. He weighed ten pounds at birth. He takes after Pop’s side of the family, while I’m built more like the men in my mother’s family.”

  “He should’ve played football.”

  “He was offered full athletic scholarships to play ball at several colleges, but he turned them down to help Pop run this place. At that time they were open six days a week serving lunch and dinner.”

  Tonya remembered Eustace telling her how he had to decrease the hours and days of operation, which made her think about how many days and hours she would devote to the supper club. “Did he ever regret not playing ball?”

  “I’ve never heard him complain about it. Chez Toussaints is a family business that hopefully will be around for generations to come. Once Eustace hangs up his apron, my nieces will take over. They’re trying to convince their husbands to come into the business, but right now they’re not ready to change careers. Melinda’s husband is a firefighter, while Nicole’s is a sheriff in Baton Rouge.”

  “What about you, Gage?” Tonya asked. “Have you considered stepping in when Eustace retires?”

  * * *

  Gage went completely still. It was a question his brother had asked him so many times that he had lost count, and occasionally it was a topic of contention between the two of them. Eustace had insisted he decide whether he wanted to be a chef or a musician, but at this time in his life, Gage did not have to make a decision as to one or the other. As long as he was able to teach during the week, play at Jazzes on the weekends, and assist Eustace whenever he had to cater a party, then he did not see the need to change his current lifestyle.

  “No!” He gave Tonya a direct stare when she opened her mouth, but then closed it quickly. He hadn’t meant for his response to come out so harsh, but it was too late to retract it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bark at you.”

  Tonya lowered her eyes. “Apology accepted, even though you seem to do that a lot.”

  His brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

  “The last time we were together you were rather condescending when I told you I wanted to run my own restaurant, and your comeback was ‘good luck with that, chef.’ ”

  His eyebro
w lifted. “I said that?”

  “Yes, you did.”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he angled his head. A few minutes ago, when the bell had rung, he had opened the door and was shocked to find Tonya standing there. In that instant everything he had remembered about her came rushing back like frames of film: her flawless skin, sexy mouth, and the scent of the hauntingly hypnotic perfume that lingered inside his car for days.

  “I don’t know what had gotten into me to have said something like that.”

  A smile parted Tonya’s lips, the gesture bringing his gaze to linger on them. In that instant he wondered if she knew just how sexy she was. He had known a lot of women who did not hesitate to capitalize on their looks when in the company of men, but there was something about Tonya that indicated that wasn’t a part of her feminine repertoire when it came to interacting with a man. It was as if she were oblivious to her looks and undeniable sensuality.

  “Perhaps it was lack of sleep that brought out the bear in you.” She extended her hand. “Let’s start again. Hello. I’m Tonya Martin.”

  Gage ignored the proffered hand; instead he rested his hands on her shoulders and kissed her on both cheeks. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Tonya Martin. I’m Gage Toussaint.” He had registered Tonya’s intake of breath when he kissed her, hoping he had not overstepped the line. It was apparent he and Tonya would get to see quite a bit of each other now that she was working with his brother. “Now that we have the formalities out of the way, chef, can you please put up a pot of beef stock?”

  The dimples in her cheeks winked at him when she smiled. “No problem, chef.”

  He watched Tonya wash her hands, dry them, and then slip on a pair of disposable gloves, pretending interest in his stockpot with crushed crab claws and crawfish shells. She moved around the kitchen with a minimum of wasted motion as she heated a heavy stockpot over medium heat and added soup bones and oxtails until they were browned all over before she added two coarsely chopped carrots, and then several gallons of water. Once the pot came to a light boil, she lowered the flame to barely a simmer.

 

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