by Ellen Byron
The officers marched Gigi toward the patrol car. “You might want to go with your wife,” Bo said to Narcisse.
“Huh?” Narcisse, who’d stood slack-jawed through the wild turn of events, snapped out of his fog. “Right, yeah, I guess.” A smug grin spread across his face. “Never had two chicks fighting over me before.”
He loped over to the NOPD patrol car. The officers were about to load Gigi into the back seat when she wriggled away and kicked her leg backward, straight into her husband’s groin. He collapsed, moaning in pain. “I’m all yours, fellas,” she told the stunned officers, who carefully maneuvered her into the car.
“Pro move,” Rufus said.
Bo nodded. “We’ll have to watch out for that one in the future.”
The patrol car and ambulance left the grounds. For a moment, no one spoke. “So …” Pixie said. “Now what?”
“Now,” Maggie said, “it’s Gaynell’s turn.”
* * *
Gaynell protested but caved to the entreaties of her own band, backed up by support from East and Uffen, Tammy’s two remaining musicians. Adopting the philosophy that it was better to beg forgiveness than ask permission, Maggie hustled everyone onto the stage before the event organizers had a chance to squash her plan. East explained the last-minute change to the audience, whose disappointment changed to enthusiasm as soon as Gaynell and the Gator Girls launched into their impossible-to-resist set. For the final number, Gaynell got to play her song “Forget the Past” as the lovely ballad it had always been meant to be.
“That went pretty well,” Rufus commented as Gaynell and the others exited the stage after their third encore.
“And the award for understatement of the year goes to …” Maggie motioned to Rufus with both hands.
The group headed to the holding area, where the musicians huddled together congratulating each other. Gaynell extricated herself and approached Maggie. Her blonde curls were matted with perspiration, her T-shirt soaked through. She couldn’t have looked happier. Maggie smiled at her friend. “Today was a game-changer for you and the Gator Girls. You know that, right? Everyone’s talking about how y’all stepped in and owned the stage.”
“I’m just glad it went well,” Gaynell, ever modest, said.
Chret came over and handed his girlfriend a towel. Gaynell took it and wiped her face. “We need to celebrate,” Chret said. “I’ll get some beers.”
“Thanks, chère.” Gaynell collapsed into a chair, and Maggie sat down next to her. “I don’t know how to thank you. For everything.”
“Just keep writing and playing music.”
Gaynell gave her a half smile. “Yes, ma’am.” She blew out a breath. “Phew, what a night. Can you believe Gigi tried to kill her own cousin?”
“Yes, I can, considering the cousin was having an affair with her husband. Nothing like that to unbind the ties that bind.” Maggie shaded her eyes with her hand. The sun was beginning to set, casting a glare from the west. “I owe you an apology, Gay. I never should have gotten in Tammy’s face like I did. She was right when she said it wasn’t any of my business.”
“Don’t worry about it. At first, I was all uh-oh. But then the truth came out and cleared things up.”
“Sort of. It didn’t stop her from accusing you of doctoring her drink.”
“That’s true,” Gaynell acknowledged.
“I’m still trying to process that photo of your brother. You two don’t look anything alike.”
Gaynell’s half smile turned into a wide grin. “That’s because we’re not related.”
Maggie sat up straight. “Excuse me?”
“I get how Tammy operates now. She wants what she can’t have. And I do not want that to be my brother Arnaud. Here’s what he really looks like.”
Gaynell pulled up a photo on her phone and showed Maggie. A drop-dead gorgeous man stared back at her, his blonde hair tousled, a come-hither look in his bright-blue eyes. He was shirtless, clad only in a fireman’s rubber pants and suspenders. “Wowee wow wow.”
“That’s from the Hot Firemen of Shreveport annual calendar. It’s a fund raiser. They do really well.”
“I bet. But who’s the other guy, the one in the photo you showed Tammy?”
Gaynell shrugged. “Got me. I just googled CHUBBY CHEFS.”
Maggie’s own phone pinged a text, and she checked it. “Bo. It’s like he knew I was looking at that picture of your brother.”
Gaynell laughed. “Some of the musicians were talking about meeting up at a place on Frenchman Street tonight to jam. Want to come?”
Maggie held up her phone. “Thanks, but I think I’ll go for some quality time with my hot policeman.” Her cell alerted her to a new text. She read it and squealed. “After we go see Lia and her babies … because Kyle just texted me her water broke and they’re delivering them right now!”
Gaynell shrieked with glee. The women grabbed each other by the shoulders and jumped up and down. Then Maggie called to the others, “Hey, y’all, fire up the party van. We got some newborns to welcome into the world!”
Epilogue
A week after they debuted, the Bruner triplets—two girls and a boy—left the hospital with their parents. They were welcomed home by godparents Maggie and Bo, along with a freezer full of meals for Mom and Dad provided by the good citizens of Pelican. Kyle and Lia chose to name the infants after her African ancestors. “I found a registry website while I was on bed rest,” Lia told her friends. “It goes all the way back to the late eighteenth century and even lists the countries they came from.” The baby girls were named Kika and Asha, the baby boy Jabari.
With Cajun Country Live! over for the year, Maggie returned to her job as art collection specialist at Doucet Plantation. She also launched a free art class for local children, using the teaching skills she’d developed in her private classes with Xander. The boy joined the group—along with Esme, who, now lovestruck by his talent, made sure her easel was always next to his.
Tammy Barker debuted her new sound at a “listening party” in Los Angeles, and the tabloids gleefully reported that it bombed. She blamed her “inexperienced” manager, Sara Salinas, and fired her. Sara didn’t care. She was busy lining up tour dates and a recording deal for Gaynell and the Gator Girls.
Maggie and Bo batted around a few more potential wedding dates, then stopped worrying about it. The drama wrought by Pony Pickner’s murder earned them some downtime to simply enjoy each other’s company. After a particularly lusty night of enjoyment, Maggie joked that her fiancé could be the cover boy for a “Sexy Cops of Pelican” calendar. When this comment got back to Rufus, the joke became a reality, and a fund-raiser was born—only with Rufus as the cover boy.
And Grand-mère finally got to meet Carina Albieri.
* * *
Carina responded to Gran’s messages with an address and a time to meet. GPS led Maggie and Gran to a gaily painted Creole cottage in the Bywater neighborhood of New Orleans. Maggie parked the Falcon on the grassy embankment that ran alongside the street’s sidewalk. She helped Grand-mère out of the car’s passenger side onto the sidewalk. Gran slammed the heavy car door shut behind her. She smoothed her dark-navy linen slacks and adjusted the bow on her pale-blue silk blouse. She’d dressed in the colors of her sorority, Kappa Kappa Gamma, a choice Maggie knew she made when she needed a boost of confidence. “Are you ready?” she asked.
Gran nodded. They proceeded up the home’s front steps and rang the doorbell. “Coming,” a voice called from inside. Seconds later, the door opened and a stunning woman around Ninette’s age stood on the threshold. She was taller by a full head than Maggie’s petite mother and wore her gray hair in a stylish short cut. She wore khaki slacks and a T-shirt that read LOYOLA NOLA. The woman, who exuded warmth, opted for hugs instead of handshakes. “I’m Carina. Come in, come in.”
Maggie and Gran followed Carina into a living room decorated with midcentury furniture that somehow harmonized with the old home’s original decora
tive molding and carved cypress fireplace. Iced tea and a selection of pastries were laid out on a Danish Modern coffee table. Maggie and Gran took seats on the room’s sleek, upholstered sofa. Carina settled in a matching chair opposite them. “I’m sorry for my spotty correspondence,” she said. “It’s the end of the semester and I’m up to my eyeballs in term papers. I’m a classical studies prof at Loyola.”
“Please, I’m grateful you responded at all,” Gran said. “We’ve yet to officially introduce ourselves. I’m Charlotte Crozat, and this is my granddaughter, Maggie. Judging by your age, I assume you’re Carina’s daughter.”
Carina shook her head. “Niece. I was named after her.”
“Ah. Well, as I mentioned in my messages to you, I found correspondence between Carina and my late husband that indicated he and your aunt had a relationship when they were young.” Gran pulled the bundle of letters out of her purse. She’d rewrapped it with the original ribbon. “In all our time together—and we were married over fifty years—Thibault never mentioned your aunt to me. Which makes me quite curious about her.”
Carina picked up a framed portrait and handed it to Gran. “Here’s a picture.”
Gran and Maggie gazed at the image of a young woman with a shy smile and eyes that shone, even in black and white. “She’s lovely,” Maggie said.
“Wasn’t she? That was taken right before she died.”
Gran stared at the photo. “Died? She couldn’t have been more than twenty in this picture.”
“Nineteen. She never saw her twentieth birthday. Leukemia.”
Stunned, Maggie and Gran exchanged a glance. “I’m sorry,” Gran said. “I had no idea.”
“Carina was my dad’s little sister by two years.”
“By any chance, did your father go to Tulane?” Gran asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m guessing he was friends with my husband, and that’s how Thibault met Carina. But I never heard my husband mention your father.”
“Her death broke everyone’s heart. Dad must have sent the letters back to your husband so that my aunt would live in his memories. But I can see why he didn’t continue their friendship. They would have had to talk about Carina, and no one could. Not my grandparents, not Dad. No one. It was too painful.”
“To lose a loved one like that, at such a young age,” Gran murmured. “It must have been unbearable.”
Maggie thought of her own mother, who’d battled Hodgkin’s lymphoma when she was not much older than Carina. Ninette had survived, married, raised a daughter. Maggie recalled the times her family feared the cancer had reoccurred and they might lose Ninette. Now she was grateful for every moment she spent with her beloved mother. Moments Carina never got to experience with a child of her own.
“You read the letters. Can you tell me anything about her?” the late woman’s namesake asked Gran. “I’d love to know what she was like.”
“She … She was …” Gran stopped. She cleared her throat. She looked down at the packet of letters in her lap. Then she handed them to the second Carina Albieri. “These will tell you everything you need to know about your aunt.”
The woman hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Thank you so much.” Carina took the letters. Her eyes, light like her late aunt’s, glistened.
“I can share two things I learned from them.” Gran leaned forward. She placed a hand on Carina’s knee. “Your aunt was beautiful inside and out. And my husband was very much in love with her.”
* * *
Grand-mère placed a large bouquet of flowers in front of the elegant marble tomb located in a far corner of the city’s Greenwood Cemetery. She’d insisted on paying her respects, and Maggie was happy to oblige.
An inscription on the tomb read, BUT IT IS FLESH THAT DIES; THE SOUL IS IMMORTAL. Below it, Carina Albieri’s dates of birth and death were listed. Gran and Maggie knelt at the foot of the tomb. They said a prayer, crossed themselves, and then stood up.
“It’s heartbreaking,” Gran said. “The loss.”
“I know.”
The women were silent, lost in their own thoughts. The only sound came from the rumble and clangs of the Canal Street streetcar line, which passed by the cemetery’s entrance. Maggie took her grandmother’s hand in hers. “We should go.”
“In a minute.” Gran ran her hand across the inscription. “Your grand-père and I had a wonderful life together.”
“You did. I saw how you looked at each other. The love that was there. It inspired me.”
“I never believed this before, but now I know, Magnolia … it is possible to have two great loves in your life.” She bent down and adjusted the bouquet, releasing the scent of lilies. “Lee proposed to me. I’m going to say yes.”
“Oh, Gran,” Maggie said, her voice thick with emotion. “That’s wonderful.”
“I wasn’t going to. I thought it would be a betrayal of your grandfather. But I’ve come to believe he’d understand. And wish the best for me.” Gran turned away from the tomb to her granddaughter. “I’m ready.”
Maggie offered Gran her arm. “The ground is uneven. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“If it did, we’re certainly in a convenient location.”
“Gran, you’re too much,” Maggie said, shaking her head, amused.
They walked toward Maggie’s car, down a long row of tombs, each a story to be told of a family’s history. “I was wondering …” Gran began, and then stopped.
“Yes?” Maggie prompted.
“I don’t suppose …” There was a rare note of hesitancy in Gran’s voice. “I might talk you into a double wedding?”
Maggie got a catch in her throat. She graced her grandmother with a warm, wide smile.
“I can’t think of anything that would make me happier.”
Recipes
Cauliflower Jambalaya
Ninette likes to play around with this creative take on the traditional Cajun dish. You may want to add more broth or less if you think it needs it or adjust the amount of Cajun spice. I generally opt for less spicy because I like it that way and figure people can add Tabasco to their individual servings. That being said, when I first tasted this, it was pretty spicy. Yet on the second and third servings, it wasn’t, so maybe I just hit a hot patch that first time.
Ingredients
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
6 ounces chopped heavy-cut bacon or turkey bacon (about 1 cup)
2 cups finely chopped onions
1 cup finely chopped green bell pepper (generally 1 large pepper)
½ cup finely chopped celery
1 cup Andouille sausage, cut into bite-size Pieces
1 cup chicken broth
1 teaspoon ground thyme
1 teaspoon dried tarragon
2 bay leaves
¼ teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
⅛ teaspoon ground red pepper
¼ teaspoon black pepper
2 cloves minced garlic
1 teaspoon Tony Chachere’s Creole seasoning or any Cajun seasoning with salt (if there’s a lot of pepper in your seasoning, you might want to dial back the amount)
Dash Tabasco (optional)
Dash Worcestershire Sauce
24 ounces riced cauliflower, cooked (e.g., 2 bags of Trader Joe’s frozen Riced Cauliflower, defrosted and cooked)
1 pound cooked shrimp
¼ cup finely chopped green onions
¼ cup finely chopped fresh parsley
Instructions
1. Add the oil to a large Dutch oven or cast-iron pot. Then add the bacon and cook until it curls. Add onions, bell pepper, celery, and garlic, and cook until the vegetables are softened, about five minutes. Stir to make sure everything cooks evenly.
2. Add the sausage to the pot and stir to combine with the other ingredients. Then add the chicken broth, thyme, tarragon, bay leaves, sea salt, smoked paprika, red pepper, black pep
per, garlic, Tony Chachere’s, Tabasco sauce, and Worcestershire sauce and stir together.
3. Reduce heat to simmer and add the cooked cauliflower. Stir and simmer for a few minutes, then add the shrimp. Stir and simmer for 5–10 minutes.
4. Stir in the green onions and parsley and cook for another minute or two. Let sit for five minutes, then serve with sliced French bread. Have a bottle of hot sauce handy for any guest who prefers their jambalaya spicy.
Serves 6–8.
Vegetarian Cauliflower Jambalaya
It’s easy to turn this into a vegetarian dish. Skip the shrimp and sausage and substitute meatless bacon for regular bacon. Then just follow the rest of the instructions.
Shrimp Étouffée
Étouffée literally means “smothered” in French. In Cajun cooking, that translates to a delicious dish of shrimp or crawfish smothered in a veggie-laden sauce.
Ninette’s version is more Cajun than Creole because she doesn’t include tomatoes, a staple of many Creole dishes. Her recipe really lets the flavors of the “Holy Trinity” of Cajun cooking—onions, green pepper, and celery—stand out.
Ingredients
½ pound butter or light butter
1 cup chopped onion
½ cup chopped green bell pepper
¼ cup chopped celery
2 tablespoons minced garlic
2 tablespoons dried parsley flakes
½ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon Cajun seasoning, such as Tony Chachere’s
1 tablespoon flour (or 2 tablespoons if you want to thicken the sauce more)
1 cup either shrimp stock, crawfish stock, chicken stock, or water
1 pound peeled shrimp or peeled crawfish tails
6 cups cooked white rice
Instructions
1. Using medium to high heat, melt the butter in a heavy, large skillet. Add the onion, pepper, celery, garlic, parsley, salt, and Cajun seasoning. Stir well to combine all the ingredients, then reduce the heat a bit and cook until the onion softens.
2. Add the flour, stirring well. As soon as the flour begins to stick to the bottom of the skillet, add the stock slowly until you’ve added it all to the mixture, stirring well to combine.