Page 7 of Landry

If Ava’s imaginary friend, Billy Ray, had been the culprit to open the window, that meant Ava’s imagination had gone outside the box. Camille suspected her daughter had been the one to unlock the window and leave it open.

Camille hadn’t been concerned about Ava’s imaginary friend when he’d been someone Ava could confide in. Her daughter needed to feel comfortable sharing her feelings with someone. Why not an imaginary friend?

But when she opened windows for that friend, she left herself exposed to any lunatic who preyed on defenseless little girls.

Camille returned to the bed, slipped beneath the sheets and gathered her daughter close. “Go to sleep, Ava. I won’t leave you tonight.”

Ava snuggled against her mother’s side. “I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you, too, baby,” Camille said softly. Tomorrow, she’d have to address Ava’s imaginary friend and get Ava’s promise not to leave a door or window unlocked ever again.

Chapter 2

“Girl!” Amelie Aubert hugged Camille. “What a night!” She’d stopped by on her way to her bakery to wish Camille a good morning. When Camille told her what had happened the previous night, Amelie stayed longer, insisting on helping with packaging candies. “I should’ve been there with you.”

Camille shook her head. “Ava and I are okay. There’s not much you could’ve done. Besides, Deputy Clyburn escorted us home.”

“Yeah, but the open window and Ava’s description of the monster have me freaked out. Are you sure you don’t want to come stay with me for a few days?”

“That’s not necessary,” Camille insisted as she went back to work arranging chocolates on display trays. She glanced toward the storeroom. “Let’s talk about something less disturbing. Ava might be listening.”

Amelie nodded. “Right. Of course.” She drew in a deep breath, forced a smile and asked, “On a more positive note, are you going to submit an entry in the parish fair pie competition this year?”

Amelie tied a bright blue ribbon around a box of Camille’s chocolate, caramel and pecan clusters for Sheriff Bergeron’s birthday.

Camille nodded, half a smile pushing up the corners of her mouth. “You bet. I’m making a special pie just for the event. I can’t let you take first prize five years in a row.”

Amelie smiled confidently. “Aren’t you precious, getting all competitive and such.”

Although she was tired from the drama of the night before, Camille still loved teasing her friend, Amelie. The Bayou Bakery owner was the best baker in the parish, and nothing Camille could produce in the pie category would come close to what the renowned French pastry chef could concoct. Still, she liked their friendly sparring, a skill she’d honed after years of being a doormat in her doomed marriage to a criminal.

Camille had spent the past five years building herself and her business up from the ashes of her marriage to the jewel thief and the subsequent depths of despair of landing in a women’s shelter with a three-month-old infant.

“I’m glad you’re entering the competition. I think your pie-baking skills have come a long way from when you made your first sweet potato pie.” Amelie’s lips twitched as she fought to keep from smiling.

Camille lifted her chin, finally able to laugh at her own clumsy attempts at baking a pie when her skills were clearly more suited to making candy and chocolates. Many of her special treats were recipes she’d learned from her mentor, Bayou Mambaloa’s resident Voodoo Queen, Madam Gautier. She’d been sworn to secrecy about the ingredients only she, Madam Gautier and her granddaughter, Gisele, were privy to.

She’d met Gisele when the Mamba Wamba Gift Shop owner had volunteered time at the women’s shelter those five years ago. Gisele had helped Camille fill out job applications, which had helped her land a part-time job at the Crawdad Hole Bar and Grill in Bayou Mambaloa. She’d made enough in tips to cover daycare for her baby and pay a discounted rent while rooming with Gisele over her shop.

When Camille hadn’t been waiting tables at the Crawdad Hole, Gisele and her grandmother had taught her how to make the best candies in the parish.

Gisele, a business owner and entrepreneur, had seen in Camille the drive and hunger to improve her life and provide for her young daughter. She’d enlisted her grandmother’s help and skills to come up with a way for Camille to build her own business to the point she’d had her own store for a couple of years now and was selling candies online and to businesses in New Orleans and Baton Rouge, under her store name, Sweet Temptations.

“I’ll have you know,” Camille said with a smile, “I have a secret weapon for the pie competition. I’ve been perfecting the recipe over the past few months. I think I’m ready to take you on.”

“Bring it.” Amelie tied the bow on the box and pushed it across the counter. “And while you’re at it, are you entering the pralines and peanut brittle contest?”

“You bet I am,” Camille said.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll make an enemy out of Nadine Dumond?”

Camille shrugged. “She’s so well established as the queen of pralines and peanut brittle, it won’t hurt her in the least.”

“If you start making and selling pralines and peanut brittle, you might put her out of business.”

Camille frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s enough demand for pralines and brittle for both of us.”

“But pralines and peanut brittle are all she produces. Whereas you make the most magical chocolates, taffy and hard candies in the parish, if not all of Louisiana.”

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