Page 20 of Landry

“She doesn’t seem to be worrying about last night’s trauma,” Landry observed quietly.

“Ava’s a very optimistic, kind and caring kid. She’s usually the one who takes care of other children and adults.”

“Like her mother?” Landry suggested.

Camille smiled down at her daughter. “She is a lot like me.”

“I look like you,” Ava said, confirming Camille’s suspicion that her little ears were taking in everything the adults were discussing.

Camille exchanged a knowing glance with Landry.

The man grinned down at Ava. “And you’re smart like your mother, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” she said. “I can read, write my letters and add numbers.”

“Are you in school?” Landry asked.

“No, silly. It’s summer.”

“Ava starts kindergarten this fall.” Camille gave her daughter a sad smile. “I’ll miss having her hanging out at the shop, but I’m excited for her to make new friends and learn so many new things.”

“And they have a swing set on the playground, and monkey bars and a slide.” Again, Ava launched her feet into the air.

Camille leaned back and lifted her daughter at the same time as Landry, swinging her forward and back until she came to land on her feet.

“Must be nice to be so young and carefree,” Landry said, “where the highlight of your summer is fishing in the bayou and looking forward to going to school so that you can play on the incredible playground.”

“Uncle Alan said he’d take me fishing the next time he takes the boys,” Ava said.

“That’s what I heard,” Camille said. “Auntie Chrissy said you already know how to bait a hook.”

“I can put a worm on the hook better than any of the boys,” Ava said, puffing her chest out proudly. “And I dug the most worms out of the compost pile.”

Camille must not have hidden her grimace very well.

“You’ve never been fishing?” Landry asked.

She shook her head. “Neither one of us has.”

“But you live on the bayou. You could walk out your back door, drop a line and catch fish all day.”

“True,” Camille said. “But I don’t have a pole, wouldn’t know how to use it if I did, and I don’t like the distraction of fishing when alligators have been known to cross my backyard on more occasions than I care to count. Ava’s not allowed to leave the porch without me.”

“And you’ve really never been fishing?” Landry shook his head.

Camille pressed her lips together. “I know, it’s a travesty. One I have to live with. You see, I was an only child to older parents. By the time I was big enough to go fishing, my father had a stroke and couldn’t get around as easily, effectively ending my opportunity to spend time with him, dipping a hook in the water. I could possibly teach myself how to fish, but what would I do if I caught something?”

Landry’s lips twitched. “Do you like to eat fish?”

“I love the fried catfish they serve on Fridays at the Crawdad Hole,” she said. “I’ve never cooked fish, though I’d be willing to learn. The thing is, I’ve never particularly wanted to filet a fish.” She shivered. “I’ve watched the deckhands on the charter boats do it for their customers at the marina. It looks messy and smells.”

Landry laughed out loud.

Camille liked the sound, but not that he was laughing at her. “I’d do it if I had to. If my life depended on it.”

Landry’s face grew sober. “I bet you would. You’ve been through a lot.”

Heat filled her cheeks. “Shelby and Remy told you?”

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