Bayou Brides

by Linda Joyce

  “I’ll have more questions. Need specifics, if I agree to help you. But first, I need to talk it over with my sister. Though, I’m not sure your sister is going to want me anywhere near your parents’ party.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re in a cost-cutting mode, and I can’t afford her services any longer.”

  “I see… Have you told her yet? She’ll be devastated.”

  “I hope to have that conversation with her today.” Devastated?

  “Nola is fiercely independent. She’d rather live like a bag woman than ask our family for help. Did you know that every penny she earns from Arceneau’s and from Harbor House goes to support her community band? ‘Independent cuss’ is what our grandmother calls her. Nola’s teaching job and summer touring is how she pays for the necessaries for the band. My sister is tight with a penny. She spends more on others each month than herself. I buy her shoes and clothes just so I can be seen with her in public. I can’t understand why she prefers thrift shop finds.”

  At every turn, he discovered something enticing about Nola Belle. She was a giver, not a taker, maybe to a fault. “Mrs. Trahan, would you give me twenty-four hours to get back to you? Since my father’s passing—”

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to create a hardship on you. I don’t want to bother—”

  Nola and her sister had a lot in common. They both barged through conversations. “Mrs. Trahan.”

  “Biloxi, please.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow. I believe I can help you out, but give me until tomorrow to confirm.”

  “I’ll be waiting, not so patiently.”

  When Rex returned to the dining room, the produce man had left. All signs of breakfast had been removed, and the table reset for lunch.

  “Nice job,” Kayla said as he entered the kitchen. “Trying to ruin my supply line. This is blatant sabotage. I instructed him to continue his deliveries. You and I will go over the invoices together.”

  Rex nodded. He’d been waiting for her to insert herself into the business end of the restaurant. His plan had worked. “Ask him to email the last eighteen months of bills. We’ll go over them one by one.”

  “I admit, I need your help. But I’m not going to let you steal Arceneau’s away from me. I know I haven’t done the best job since Papa died, but I’ve done the best I can. I’m willing to listen to all you have to say…but I want you to give me a year.”

  “Unless things change now, you’ll be out of business in three months. You don’t have twelve months to turn things around.”

  “No, you misunderstand. I want you for a year. Here. Helping me. Creating new dishes for our restaurant. You owe me that.”

  Rex stared at his sister. He must have heard her wrong. She wanted to share the business with him? Wanted him to move back. For a year? “Kayla…I don’t know…but what do you mean I owe you?”

  “Time. You left for college and never came back. Now, you’ve hinted I have to do a yoga pretzel to please you, that it’s your way or the highway, to keep the business going. I’m agreeing to your demands, and adding something small to the pot.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I couldn’t survive the closing of Arceneau’s. I want you. If you won’t help me—stay and teach me—then I’ll call Uncle Henri and offer to sell my forty percent. Then you’ll have him for a partner, fifty-fifty. How about that?”

  Stunned, Rex grabbed for a stool and sat. Kayla had turned the tables on him. Sell Arceneau’s? Maybe. As distasteful as it sounded, it would uncomplicate his life. He could go back to New York. But that would remove him from Nola’s world…unless he managed to get her some tour spots there. His mind continued to whirl.

  “What do you say, Rex?”

  He pondered. Nola in New York. Maybe. She’d already cut one CD. Was a new one with a New York label possible? Could he find a way to entice Nola Belle into his world?

  “I will sell my share to Uncle Henri, if you don’t agree to my plan, big brother. Then, you’ll have to deal with that can of shit.” She pounded her fist on the countertop. “And one more thing. If I sell to Uncle Henri, I’ll be selling my half of the house, too.”

  Kayla untied the apron from around her waist. “I need air.” She turned and stormed from the kitchen, kicking open the back door.

  Sighing, Rex massaged his temples hoping to stop the headache from escalating. Nola’s influence shone through. Kayla had grown a backbone since the two of them had become friends. Where his sister was concerned, he didn’t know whether to hug Nola or strangle her. But for himself, he couldn’t wait to kiss her, hold her again. The famous Nola Belle. But shit if she wasn’t a harbinger of chaos and delivered on that promise, too. What the hell was he going to do?

  ****

  Nola arrived at Arceneau’s a few minutes past two thirty, peered through the window, and waved the hostess over. The young woman rushed to unlock the door, allowing Nola to enter.

  “How are things in the kitchen today?” She peered behind a waitress. A four-top lingered after lunch, otherwise the restaurant was empty. Also no Kayla or Rex in sight.

  “Strange. Too quiet.” The hostess thumbed over her shoulder. “Kayla has barely said a word. Not yelling expletives at anyone.”

  “Yes, that would be shocking. And where’s Rex?”

  “Not sure. Haven’t seen him since I clocked in.”

  “Interesting. Well, I’ll grab something from the kitchen and say ‘hey’ to Kayla.”

  Disappointment oozed with each step as she made her way toward the kitchen. Rex not around? While she didn’t want to hear any bad news, the desire to see him again surged through her like an uncontrolled barge barreling down the Mississippi. To be close, to hear his voice, gaze at his marvelous mouth. While the reality of a relationship could never materialize, a girl could dream.

  And she would dream big about him.

  It was unlike Mister Suit to blow off an appointment, Mr. Efficient Business that he was. She pushed on the swinging door to enter the kitchen. Maybe he wasn’t quite as eager to deliver bad news as she’d thought. That was a point in his favor. But only one.

  Inside Kayla’s domain, quiet smacked Nola. Dropping her bags in the small office, she paused to take in the scene. The funeral-parlor mood was a shocking departure to the usual frenetic pace in the Arceneau’s kitchen. Kayla stood in front of the sink, her hands on either side of it gripping the counter watching water running.

  “Hey there! What’s for lunch, Chef?”

  Kayla turned. Eyes red-rimmed. Blinking. She let go of a shudder. Or was it a sob?

  Nola ran to her. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

  “Marquis hasn’t called. I can’t do this by myself.”

  Ushering Kayla into the kitchen office, she sat her in the chair. Nola turned, closed the door and the blinds from prying eyes of the few staff puttering around. It hurt to see her friend so distraught.

  “Let’s start at the beginning. Marquis.” She parked on the top of the desk facing Kayla.

  “He hasn’t called.”

  “Oh, sweetie, he works two jobs. He drives all day and performs when he gets gigs at night. There could be a lot of reasons he hasn’t called.”

  “Let’s go to your place. Maybe I can just casually drop in?”

  Nola chuckled. “It’s fine for you to go spend the afternoon at my place, but I have to rehearse. I’m working at Harbor House again tonight. But do you want to be so obvious with the trumpet player?”

  “Yes!”

  “Is this love or lust?” Nola took her hands. “If it’s love, you have to give it time to bloom. It it’s lust, then go for it.”

  “What do you know? You’ve never had a long-term relationship.”

  Nola drew back. “True…but I know what one looks like.” Relationships had longevity in her family. Just look at her parents. Next weekend, they were celebrating thirty-five years of marriage.

  “Call him for me?” The expression of desperation on Ka
yla’s face pinched Nola’s heart. Yes, she would reduce herself to high school tactics to help her friend, if she could.

  “I don’t have his number. Maybe Rex does? Where’s your brother? He said he wanted to talk with me this afternoon.”

  Tears slid down Kayla’s cheeks. She shook her head. “I gave Rex an ultimatum and left the restaurant. When I returned to talk with him—yeah, I stomped out pitching a hissy fit—he’d already gone. I don’t know where. He hasn’t called or answered my text messages. What am I going to do?” She flicked tears away. “I hate crying like a girl.”

  “Ultimatum? Can you even spell that word?” Could she cajole Kayla into a lighter mood?

  “Rex has to stay here. Help me with the business. A year. I want a year. Or I’m going to sell my share of Arceneau’s to Uncle Henri, and I’m going sell my half of the house.”

  Shock, like a dart, hit Nola in the chest. Did Kayla even know what she was saying? Sleep deprivation created delusions. She couldn’t possibly mean it. She would never sell…but maybe she did need Rex to help. Where was he?

  Nola slid off the desk and squatted beside Kayla. Wrapping an arm around her, she squeezed her friend’s shoulders. “Honey, you haven’t had much sleep. You’re trying to push through, and instead, you’re sucking wind. If you want to nap at my place and try to sneak a peek at Marquis—though I’m thinking he’s working—that’s fine. But I believe there’s another opportunity to be had.”

  Kayla’s expression flipped immediately to hopeful. Nola had to help her friend find a way to get what she wanted.

  “Let me find out where’s he’s playing.” Nola smiled encouragingly. “We’ll catch his show. But right now, you go upstairs and sleep. Whenever you fly so high, crashing is inevitable.”

  “Can you even spell that word?” She sniffed.

  “Yeah-ya. I can.” She rose and motioned for Kayla to follow after she opened the office door. “You’ve got about two hours until you’re on for dinner service at five. Let’s get you upstairs for a power nap.”

  “Nola,” Kayla said as she climbed the stairs. “I really don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt like this before.”

  “I understand, sweetie. But you’ll figure it out. I have confidence in you.”

  Grief had a funny way of twisting the brain and making mush of the heart. Maybe Kayla’s overwhelming urges about Marquis would diminish in three months or six. Or not. But she couldn’t stand by and watch Kayla do something foolish without trying to protect her.

  The passing of Chef Arceneau opened a well of vulnerability in her friend Nola hadn’t witnessed before. Now she had to be the rational one, the calm voice of reason for Kayla. Hopefully, she could help guide her away from making any terrible decisions. Like selling her share of the restaurant. That kind of major decision needed to be postponed, for a while, if not a year. Nola had experienced life-altering grief after her grandfather died. His passing nearly killed her grandmother. Then both the Old Aunts passed away just weeks before her sister’s wedding to Nick. It rocked the lives of everyone in her family. The Old Aunts had been walking, talking reference libraries of history. Their passing hit Biloxi the hardest—maybe because she lived with them before Hurricane Katrina struck.

  Could Biloxi help her now with Kayla—offer advice on how best to help her friend? That would please her older sister to no end. Maybe earn her some brownie points—in case she did need a fundraising favor in the future at Fleur de Lis.

  “Sometimes one has to swallow pride…” she mumbled as she helped Kayla to the bench seat along the wall.

  “I have no pride,” Kayla replied. “I just want him so bad.”

  “I know, sweetie.” Her own feelings about Rex were wavering in the same direction.

  Nola rolled a couple of tablecloths into a neck pillow and handed it to Kayla. “Girl, I know what it’s like when a man consumes all your thoughts. I know what it’s like to long for his touch, to ache to feel his kisses.”

  “You do?”

  Nodding, Nola smiled sheepishly. “Yeah-ya, darlin’, I do.”

  “Tell me about him. Who was he? What happened? Did you do the deed last night with Rex to forget him?”

  No, darlin’. It’s Rex I’m speaking of.

  “Just a man.”

  “Is there”—Kayla sighed—“such a thing as forever love?”

  It’s what I’ve been waiting on all my life.

  “Shhh. Let me sing you to sleep.” Uncomfortable about sharing her feelings about Rex, Nola pulled a chair close to the bench seat and sat facing her friend. Reaching over, she gently placed her hand over Kayla’s eyes.

  “Sleep.” Nola began humming the first few measures of “Killing Me Softly with His Song,” then moved into the lyrics. Kayla’s eyes fluttered as though she fought to stay awake. Halfway through the song, when her friend’s breath evened into small puffs of air and she’d drifted off to a deep sleep, Nola’s voice trailed off.

  Tiptoeing downstairs, praying the wooden stairs wouldn’t squeak, Nola went to the kitchen.

  “Is Kayla coming back?” one of the staff asked. “She didn’t leave any instructions about who was on what prep for dinner.”

  “She’s asleep in the lounge.” She pointed upstairs. “Give her thirty minutes, then wake her up. Otherwise, she might end up in the hospital with a finger missing from that slicing thingy y’all use. Or one of you might end up in the ER with a stab wound.”

  “When she’s quiet, that’s when she scares me. When’s she’s yelling, I know she’s on her best game.”

  “She’ll be just fine. Did Rex show up? Could he provide the direction you need with dinner plans so Kayla can sleep longer?”

  “Haven’t see him.”

  “Well, take some initiative and start something. Let Kayla know she can depend on you. The menu is posted on the board, right? Check it out.” Picking up her bags, Nola headed out the back door. An unease settled over her. Rex stood for orderly, composed, and dependable. Not showing up for a meeting wasn’t like him at all. How worried should she be?

  Outside, the height of the buildings hid the warm afternoon sun as Nola crossed under French Quarter balconies and skirted around tourists taking a slow stroll. Not minding the hike, she headed toward the only other suitable rehearsal space—the community center. No one would bother her there. As she approached Elysian Fields, she spied a kid on a bike. Stopping, she scooted close to the wall of the nearest building for protection, then reached for her phone. Just in case. Was the kid one of the ones who’d tried to mug her? Her heartbeat quickened. Her palms began to sweat. But she had to find a way to get past the fear if Leon joined the band.

  As the bicycle rider moved closer, Nola’s breath hitched.

  Then she recognized him. Sighing deeply, she waved back. The guy was in training for a fifty-mile ride for a charity. She’d met him at a coffee shop and promised to sponsor him a dollar a mile.

  Crossing the busy intersection, Nola waited until she had made it safely across the street to check for a missed call. “Biloxi?” She only called during the day if there was a problem. Usually they talked once a week unless they were both at Fleur de Lis, and then the girl talk was unlimited.

  “You did the ringy-dingy thingy?” Nola said after her sister answered the call.

  “There’s trouble in River City.”

  “Do tell.” Nola chuckled. Her sister, the Chicken Little of the family, always thought the sky was falling. But her attention to detail was part of what had made Fleur de Lis more successful over the last ten years.

  “It’s serious. Greta fell and fractured her leg. She’s home with it elevated. There’s some jabber about possible surgery, but the swelling has to go down first.”

  “For the love of seafood and a good Bloody Mary, what did she do?”

  “Fell off a stool.”

  “What?” Nola walked a few steps to a house and sat on the front steps.

  “She was trying to get that five-gallon pot from a top ca
binet. The step stool wobbled one way. She wobbled the other. Her foot tangled in a rung of the steps. The pot landed on top of her. And as bad as that is, it’s not the worst of the situation.”

  “Is she going to be okay?” Greta was invincible. The news was too shocking to believe. She’d have to call her. Send flowers. Do something to help.

  “Don’t know yet. Maybe. Maybe not. But we’ve got a bigger problem.”

  “We?” With the phone pinched between her shoulder and chin, Nola imploringly lifted her palms heaven bound and looked up. Was there a message written in the sky she’d missed? A carrier pigeon hadn’t yet arrived with a note outlining her responsibilities.

  “Okay, not we. Just me. Camilla’s on bed rest. She can’t work until after the baby is born.”

  “Crap on a stick. What about the café? The party? What are you going to do?”

  “What am I going to do? I’m not alone in putting on this party. There’s me, and you, and Linc. But I’ve taken the first steps in getting this boat to float again.”

  “You’re good in a crisis. What can I do to help?”

  “You can convince Rex Arceneau to take the catering job for Momma and Daddy’s anniversary party.”

  Oh no she didn’t!

  “Hello?” Nola shouted. “Hello?” Her pulsed raced.

  “Yes?” Biloxi snapped.

  “I don’t think I heard you correctly. You want me to do what?”

  Anything but ask a favor of Rex.

  “I met him at the Bridal Extravaganza,” Biloxi said. “He gave me his card. Anyway, I know Kayla is a cake artist, but full-on catering? So I called him today to ask, beg really, if he would cater the party.”

  “No. You. Didn’t. Say you didn’t do that without asking me.” Anxiety roiled in her gut.

  “My bad for not consulting my magic Nola ball first. I’m not in the habit.”

  “Sarcasm isn’t helping.” Nola snorted.

  “Look, sister. If there’s a problem, I’m the Keeper. I fix problems. I could give the business to someone else, but I know how close you’ve become to Kayla…so it seemed a logical fit. And I got a vibe from him—he likes you. Remember I told you, I’m married, so I can look, but you’re single—you can touch. Please convince him to cater the party.”