Page 21 of Landry

He nodded.

Camille’s gut knotted. “You must think I’m incredibly gullible,” she said softly.

“Not at all,” he said, giving her a crooked smile. “Maybe too trusting. But then, not many women would suspect their husbands of what yours was up to.”

“It kills me,” she said, careful to frame her words in a manner Ava wouldn’t know what she was talking about. The girl was a sponge and too grown-up for her own good. “We were together for three years. He didn’t admit to anything other than the event for which he was accused. For all I know, he could’ve been doing what he was doing throughout our entire marriage.” She shook her head. “I was too busy living the dream of being married, having a baby and thinking my life was perfect,” she snorted. “Boy, was I wrong.”

“You can’t blame yourself for what he did.”

“I blame myself for being too naïve. For not noticing what was going on,” she said.

“Does she have anything to do with him?”

Camille’s hand tightened on her daughter’s. “Absolutely not. I had that written into the separation agreement.”

Landry nodded. “Probably for the best. How long was the sentence?”

“Ten years,” she said softly.

“Any chance of early parole?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve started a new life and don’t want to dwell on him or the past.”

“Understandable.” Landry nodded.

As they turned onto the driveway leading to her cottage, Camille said, “I’d invite you to have dinner with us, but it’s slim pickin’s. I was going to warm up frozen chicken nuggets and a can of green beans.”

“Not that I’m opposed to chicken nuggets and green beans, but I came hoping I could commandeer your kitchen.”

Camille frowned. “Commandeer my kitchen?”

“I brought all the ingredients to make gumbo. All I need is a pot to cook in and a stovetop.” Landry glanced at Camille. “Do you like gumbo?”

“I love gumbo,” Camille said. “I’ve only made it once, since it’s just the two of us. The recipe I followed made such a big batch that I gave it away to all my friends.” She gave him a skeptical look. “You cook?”

Landry shrugged. “A little. Living in the boarding house, I experiment on the others who are still living there. I like trying new recipes.”

“Did your mother give you a love of cooking?” she asked.

“No.”

“Did your father do much of the cooking in your family?” she asked.

His abrupt snort made her look his way. It was as if a shadow had passed over his face. “Neither of my parents cooked.”

“So, you taught yourself,” she said. “Not many men take the time to learn.”

“I like being self-sufficient.”

Camille nodded. “Me, too. However, running a candy shop and making my own candies takes up a lot of my time and creative cooking skills. Too often, the week gets away from me, or I’m too tired to stop at the grocery store for nutritious ingredients.” She sighed. “Since you came prepared, you’re more than welcome to use my kitchen, pots and pans and anything else you might need. It’ll be a nice change to have someone else do the cooking.”

Richard had never offered to help. As far as he had been concerned, he’d brought home the paycheck. Everything else, including mowing the lawn, had been up to her.

“Ava, do you like gumbo?” Landry asked.

She nodded. “Gumbo sounds silly, like it should be made of gum. Don’t you think?”

“It is a silly name,” Landry agreed. “Your mom tells me you have a friend named Billy Ray.”

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