Page 2 of The Rebel
“We were at breakfast at LeBlanc-Broussard. She saw us and came by,” Felix explained.
I was going to have a word or two with her.
Was I being difficult? My whole life, I’d prided myself on being the easygoing brother. Yet I couldn’t deny that I had lost a lot of assistants in the past year.
I started to mentally go through them.One, two…Well, fuck, I’d had six assistants this year alone. I didn’t even want to think about the previous years.
We offered our hires an excellent employee package, and I made sure that no one on my team worked longer than therequired hours. They were neither underpaid nor overworked. So, why did they quit?
“See? Told you he was going to come to the same conclusion as us,” Felix said conversationally.
“Nah, he’s still fighting it,” David went on.
“No one has complained about working for me,” I stated, maybe a bit defensively.
“People don’t complain to their boss. They quit. Or they inform HR of their complaints.”
My jaw ticked. “And yet Dorothy hasn’t mentioned any complaints. I’ll have a chat with her,” I said.
“You do that. But don’t tell her we spoke to you,” Felix added.
“Noted.”
Apparently, she’d asked them not to tell me. That wasn’t okay.
We talked about fishing for the rest of the two-hour drive, right until we reached the Garden District. My parents and both sets of grandparents lived together in a huge mansion. We found my grandmothers busy in the kitchen when we entered.
“You boys have been productive,” Isabeau said as I kissed her cheek.
“I got the biggest catch this time,” I boasted.
“Goodness, you distracted our men well, then,” Celine replied.
My grandmothers knew me to a T.
“Uncle Anthony, you’re back,” my niece Bella chanted, bursting into the kitchen.
I turned around. “Hey, cricket. I didn’t know you were here.” Bella was ten years old, but for me, she was still a small kid. Some days I couldn’t believe how quickly time passed.
“She’s spending the whole day here with us. She wants to learn how to make my famous jambalaya,” Isabeau said proudly.
I exchanged a glance with my grandfathers, but none of ussaid anything. My grandmothers wereveryproud of their recipes. My brother Chad’s wife, Scarlett, was the current chef at LeBlanc-Broussard. She was following Isabeau’s recipe for the restaurant’s famous jambalaya and could’ve shown it to Bella. But this meant a lot to Isabeau, and Scarlett knew it. Then again, Scarlett had her hands full these days. When she wasn’t at the restaurant, she spent time with Simone—she was only two years old and loved being in her mom’s arms.
“Uncle Anthony, I need to ask you something,” Bella said seriously.
“All right. Fire away.” I wondered why she wanted to talk in front of everyone here in the kitchen. Usually whenever she wanted something from me, she asked to see me alone.
I cherished my bond with Bella. Since Chad had been a single dad until meeting Scarlett, the entire family used to spend a lot of time with this little girl. Selfishly, I missed that. I didn’t get nearly as much one-on-one time with my Bella these days, or with Simone—who reminded me a lot of a young Bella. Even though they had different mothers, they looked very much alike.
“Are you going to have a girlfriend soon?”
I jerked, taken aback by her question. “I’m sorry?”
“I want to know how many people will be at my Christmas recital.”
I blinked. “That’s three months away.” It was only September.
“Areyou thinking about having a girlfriend?” Isabeau asked. She sounded absolutely floored by the notion.
