The Pepper In The Gumbo: A Cane River Romance

by Hathaway, Mary Jane

  “You should be at some of these game-release parties, Mrs. Olivier. The last one, he was trying to make a speech and the whole front row was flashing him. He could hardly remember what he was trying to say,” Andy said, chuckling. “I just wish I hadn’t been in the row behind them. But that’s the perk of being the CEO, I guess.”

  Alice paused mid-bite. The idea of Paul surrounded by beautiful young women willing to do anything to get his attention made her stomach go sour.

  “Andy,” Paul spoke quietly, but something in his voice must have told Andy that now was not the time to reminisce on the good times they shared at those parties.

  Alice searched for something to say that wasn’t related to how many women loved Paul. Andy’s T-shirt caught her gaze. “Your company logo is a seraph, isn’t it? At first I thought it was just an angel, but then I saw the other sets of wings. With the red and black, it’s really striking. I heard companies pay a lot of money for just the right design.”

  Looking down at his chest, Andy nodded. “True. But Paul came up with this. It’s from some book he likes.”

  “Oh, one of the Heinlein books?” Alice asked.

  “No, just… Some old thing.” Paul stood up and went to the sink to wash his hands.

  “He’s got all sorts of weird little names registered around. All of our games are officially trademarked under Fifty Wim―”

  “Andy,” Paul interrupted, voice urgent. “Let’s not talk about the company right now. Okay?”

  He shrugged. “Okay. It’s not like I was teaching her how to code. We’re just being sociable.”

  Alice poked at her coleslaw. She didn’t think for a moment that Paul was shielding her from shop talk. Andy was going to say something she wouldn’t like, and Paul was telling him to keep a lid on it. Maybe there was something worse than the game store opening. If so, she couldn’t imagine what it was.

  “I’m real glad you could come to dinner. Paul probably wished I wouldn’t be such a busybody. I know you young people like to hang out without all of us old people listening in to your business,” Mrs. Olivier said. She was smiling but something in her dark eyes seemed not as friendly as they had been the other day. She’d probably heard about Alice filing the petition to stop construction by now. Maybe Mrs. Olivier wondered why Alice was suing her boyfriend because Mrs. Olivier assumed they were dating.

  Alice swallowed a bite of coleslaw and nodded. “Thank you for inviting me. It’s true, I don’t usually spend a lot of time with my boyfriends’ parents.” She choked on the last word. “No, that’s not what I meant to say. I meant to say friends’ parents.” Alice had no idea why her mouth had decided to betray her. She studiously avoided looking at Paul, her face burning.

  Mrs. Olivier paused, a cookie sheet filled with barbecue ribs in her hands. She looked from Alice to Paul and back. Then she opened the door and slid in the ribs. “And how many boyfriends have you had, Alice?”

  “Mama,” Paul growled under his breath. “Let the girl eat.”

  “Can you pass the biscuits?” Andy said. “These are great. So tasty. Fluffy. Just the right amount of…” He frowned at the one in his hand, “…dough.”

  “It’s okay,” Alice said. She loved those two for trying to run interference, but she knew Creole mamas. They found out the truth, whether you wanted them to or not. “I haven’t dated that many. I like running my store. I’d like to have a family someday but I’m not lonely.”

  “Plus, you don’t know anybody willing to take on that many cats,” Paul said. He winked and Alice had to laugh. He was the only person in the room who knew how accurate that was.

  “So, then,” Andy started to say. He looked innocent to Alice but something in his expression must have tipped off Paul.

  “Hey, pass back those biscuits,” Paul interrupted, a little too loudly.

  Andy ignored him. “What would Alice Augustine look for in a boyfriend?”

  “Current residency,” Alice said.

  Andy guffawed in surprise.

  “Temporary or permanent?” asked Paul.

  Alice smiled. He’d known what she meant. “Permanent.”

  “I guess Al’s out, then. Didn’t he say he lived in Lafayette?” Paul sounded a little smug.

  “I s’pose you’re right.” She pretended to be disappointed. “Or he can just drive over here every so often.”

  “And some people can fly over here every so often in their personal jet,” Paul said.

  “Now, hold on.” Mrs. Olivier stood there, arms crossed. “Let’s just get to the meat of the matter here.”

  Alice felt her smile fade away. She obviously deserved the truth talk because she’d just been flirting with the woman’s son, but she still knew that it wasn’t going to feel very good.

  “How is it that you can be fixin’ to sue Paul and want to step out with him at the same time?”

  “I’m not―”

  “She’s isn’t―”

  “Oh, y’all are givin’ me a head ache. I thought we could get some things straightened out here but we’re goin’ in circles for the umpty-umpth time.” Mrs. Olivier threw her hands up in the air.

  “It’s not personal, Mama,” Paul said. He seemed chastised.

  “Well, it should be.” She glared from one to the other. “If I expect anything from you, it’s to keep things personal. Only big city folk act like business ain’t personal.” She turned. “And that goes for you, too, Andy.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Olivier,” he said. And there wasn’t a hint of a smirk.

  Alice stared at her plate. Paul’s mom was right. Pretending that there wasn’t a person behind ScreenStop wasn’t right. But she didn’t know how to separate this man from the building down the street. He’d acquired a construction permit despite the zoning bylaws and she couldn’t just ignore it, either.

  She took a biscuit and cracked it open. She still didn’t agree with the way Andy and Paul made a living. Games were a colossal waste of time. But she was beginning to understand how ignoring technology wasn’t the answer, either. It had introduced so many people to the old books that were once almost forgotten, and the e-reader gave Bix back the ability to enjoy books again.

  She caught Paul’s eye and looked away. She’d been so sure she was right. Now she just didn’t know what to think.

  ***

  “I’ll walk you back,” Paul said, getting up. They were stuffed full of ribs and all the fixin’s, happy and fed. But it was getting late and Alice looked tired. A little sad, too.

  Mrs. Olivier reached out and gave Alice a quick hug. “Don’t be a stranger. And pray about that petition you filed.”

  “Mama,” Paul groaned. That was the Christian way of saying “I know you’re wrong but you won’t take my word for it, so God will have to explain it to you.”

  “Take care, Alice,” Andy said, waving from his chair. He was stretched out, one leg over the arm. His T-shirt had sauce on it but you could hardly tell. “I’m sorry again about the holes.”

  Paul could tell Andy felt bad, but he was also sure he didn’t really understand why it mattered.

  “It’s forgiven,” Alice said, smiling. “But who knows? Maybe I’ll sue you next.”

  Paul snickered. It was weird that they could talk about it like it almost didn’t matter. But legal papers were no laughing matter, especially when the opening had been scheduled for months.

  “You don’t have to walk me back. I live down the hall.” She smiled up at him.

  “My mama didn’t raise me like that,” Paul said, opening the door.

  “Actually, your mama has some sense, and would say, ‘She lives twenty feet away,’ but suit yourself,” Mrs. Olivier said.

  Paul pretended not to hear her comment or Andy’s laughter. He followed Alice into the hallway, closing the door. They walked to her apartment in silence. He wanted to say something, now that they were finally alone, but nothing occurred to him. He wanted to reach out and take her hand again, but for some reason he couldn’t find the cou
rage.

  “Your mama is a good woman. I like her,” Alice said as they reached her door.

  He nodded. “She’s worked hard and she expects a lot from me. But she also… it’s hard to explain. She’s got a generous spirit.”

  “Real giving, like you? I know Bix sure appreciates his e-reader.” Her eyes were greener than he remembered, probably from the golden light of the hallway fixtures.

  “No, she reminds me of a Gerard Manley Hopkins line: ‘I say that we are wound with mercy round and round as if with air.’ He paused, unsure if he should have brought up poetry at all. “She’s merciful. When someone disappoints her, she wraps them in mercy. I know everybody loves their own mother, but to me, she embodies grace when it seems the world only values revenge.” His need for revenge had brought him all the way back to Natchitoches.

  Alice’s lips turned up in a soft smile “She’s wonderful. And my friend Mr. Perrault loved that Manley Hopkins. He liked his line about ‘a man living with a few strong instincts and a few plain rules, that he seemed of cheerful yesterdays and confident tomorrows’.” Her smile faded. “It sounds nice, doesn’t it? So simple. A recipe for the perfect life.”

  “But it’s hard to tell which rules to make your ‘few’, right?” He understood. Some people said it was just the Golden Rule, or just some little catchphrase, but there were always more. You start asking questions and the rules added up until you couldn’t keep track of them all.

  “And which instincts do we follow?” she said, her eyes fixed on his. “Is it the instinct to stand up for what’s right? Or the instinct to protect what’s been passed down?” She bit her lip. “Or the instinct to love a man who seems to be in opposition to both of those?”

  Paul felt her words slip under his rib cage and lodge somewhere near his heart. “Maybe that man isn’t really in opposition at all,” he said. He couldn’t convince her that he wasn’t trying to destroy the historic district. He couldn’t even prove that he cared about her building.

  She stepped toward him. “I want to believe that. I really do,” she whispered.

  Paul slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. Their first kiss had been slow and hesitant. This one was the almost the opposite, with both of them rushing together, as if afraid they would be interrupted at any moment. If Paul had ever wondered if Alice thought about him when he wasn’t around, he knew the answer now. This wasn’t a casual kiss, the kind that happened as a matter of fact at the end of a date. It was the kind of kiss that built for days and finally came to fruition almost like a miracle.

  When she drew back from him, her eyes were bright with some unnamed emotion. For a woman who described herself as flint, she was warm and soft, yielding to his touch. She let out a shaky breath, her sigh feathering against his jaw. “I should go,” she said, her words barely more than air. Her arms were around his neck and one hand slid down, tenderly cupping his face, then dropped to her side.

  He nodded, trying to focus on something other than her lips. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, but the words just wouldn’t arrange themselves in his brain and come out his mouth.

  She gently untangled herself from him and stepped back, searching her pocket for her key. He stood there while she put it in the lock, smiling a little at how long it took her to get the door open. He would have offered to help except he wouldn’t have been any better. He felt completely undone.

  She slipped inside and started to close the door, smiling at him through the crack until it met the door jam and he heard a click. Paul stood there for another minute, still feeling his heart pound in his chest, seeing Alice’s bright green eyes, feeling her touch.

  He walked back down the hallway, barely noticing his surroundings. Andy had said this was a bad idea. He said Paul and Alice were like Romeo and Juliet. Paul had never liked that play, thinking of it as beautiful words for an ugly story and a horror movie ending. But for the first time, Paul understood Romeo. Even if they really were doomed to be in eternal opposition, he didn’t really care. He wanted to be with Alice, no matter the cost. And he had never felt that way about any woman, ever before.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A satellite has no conscience. ―Edward R. Murrow

  For Alice, Friday morning was starting off all wrong. Last night’s kiss was still humming through her veins and it was hard to concentrate long enough to make breakfast. The second time she burned her toast, she gave up and headed downstairs. As she walked through the back door, she accidentally set off the alarm and it took her what seemed like hours to remember the code. Completely rattled, she turned and tripped over a cat dish, showering Darcy with water. He let out a hiss of anger and retreated somewhere in the store to sulk and repair his pride.

  She really just needed some coffee. Her dreams had been fractured with vivid flashes of city hall, her lost necklace, and Paul’s kiss. Alice set the pot and stood there, trying to center herself. The coffee machine burbled quietly and she felt herself gradually relax. A smile touched her lips at the memory of how she’d been so nervous about Paul in her store, only to find him sound asleep. He’d looked much younger there, passed out in the overstuffed red chair. She turned, smiling at the memory, reliving that moment. The coffee machine finished its cycle and Alice reached for the pot… only to see she’d forgotten to add the grounds and had brewed a piping hot pot of water. She groaned in frustration and quickly started over.

  She smoothed back her hair and straightened her wrap dress. When she was especially out of sorts, she liked to wear something with lots of color. The bright pink-and-purple pattern usually lifted her spirits. But it wasn’t working today. She addressed the front of the envelope and tried not to sigh. She had hoped to meet BWK in person, but it was never meant to be. Still, she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have a conversation with someone who loved these old books as much as she did. That was something she hadn’t known since Mr. Perrault, and she missed it.

  The phone rang and Alice reached over the desk to lift the receiver.

  “Alice Augustine? This is Peter Chatham from city hall. I wanted to let you know that your petition for an emergency injunction was approved by the court. Construction has been halted on the ScreenStop store.”

  “Oh. Thank you for letting me know.” Alice cleared her throat. She should sound happier. Or not. It was clearly a complicated situation.

  “I’ve already notified the owners that they won’t be able to complete work on the premises until the injunction is lifted. The court date for review is December first.”

  “December? That’s three months away.”

  The man let out a sigh. “Yes, both sides usually like to have plenty of time to gather evidence. You’ve sued to prove the zoning laws were bypassed and you want them to be enforced. They will need to be able to produce the necessary applications and when they were approved and by whom. These cases usually take years to be decided.”

  “Thank you,” Alice said slowly, and put the phone down. When she’d filed the petition she hadn’t been thinking of years of this battle. She’d wanted the store to somehow magically move somewhere else. But now the store may just sit there empty for months and months. It might be more of an eyesore now than if it were actually finished.

  Bix came through the front door, whistling something jaunty and upbeat. “Hello, sha!”

  “Mornin’, Bix. How was Casablanca?”

  “Oh, it was just the way we remembered it. So romantic. It put Ruby right in the mood and it wasn’t even morning time.”

  Alice pretended she hadn’t heard that last part. “I’m just sending a book to the man who runs the Browning Wordsworth Keats site. Just think, The Duke’s Secret will be rediscovered by thousands.”

  “Well, that is a mighty fine thing.” He took off his hat and started to unbutton his coat. “I’ll be able to download it as soon as it’s up.”

  “But don’t go crazy with all these downloads. Even ninety-nine cents adds up when you buy a few
hundred books.”

  Bix pulled the e-reader out of his pocket. “I’ve already got fifteen hundred.”

  Alice put her hand to her mouth. Bix was on a fixed income and Ruby didn’t come from money, either. “Just in the past few days?”

  “Well, some are free. But Paul told me he linked it to his account, so anything I buy comes out of his pocket. He said to get whatever I wanted.” He slipped off his coat and hung it on the hook.

  Alice crossed her arms over her chest. “And so you did.”

  Bix looked up, surprised. “Of course I did. The man has more money than he knows what to do with. If he wants to help feed my reading habit, I won’t argue.”

  She said nothing for a moment. It was true that Paul had plenty of money, but that didn’t seem right. “Are you sure that’s what he wanted?”

  “I tried to refuse but he said it was already set up.” Bix flipped open the case and touched the screen. “He’d already downloaded a bunch of different things for me. He said he didn’t know what I’d like but thought it would get me started. Some of ‘em look like those books from the Browning site you keep talking about. Beau Geste is on here. And there’s a lot of old science fiction I used to read when I was a lot younger. But there’s James Patterson and Louis L’Amour, too.”

  Alice peeked over his shoulder. It did look pretty nice, the way the books moved across the screen like they were on some sort of literary carousel. The covers were bright and clear. She reached out, tapping one called The Story of San Michel by Axel Munthe.

  “I read that one already. Fascinatin’ stuff. Some old doctor wrote about his life on a tiny island in the Mediterranean at the turn of the century.” Bix looked up. “Sounds duller than dirt but I’m tellin’ you, I could hardly turn it off.”

  Alice smiled. “I’m so glad you get to read again.”

  “I don’t know how to thank him. He’s given me back somethin’ I never thought I could have again.” Bix’s brown eyes filled with tears. He shook his head. “Look at me. A crazy old man cryin’ over some stories.”