Page 12 of The Big Easy & Other Lies
I grabbed one of the smaller silver serving trays and lined it with a doily. When it looked full enough of crab puffs, I headed out with my smile pasted on.
I passed through the empty breakfast nook and found the family room. A couple of middle school kids stared at me for a moment but went back to playing a video game on a giant TV. Mrs. LeBlanc—or her decorator—triedto communicate a “hang out” vibe by installing a faux stained-glass bar light over the pool table and lining the walls with retro movie poster prints. But the rich burgundy drapes and plush carpet did not say, “Put your feet up and eat Cheetos.” They, along with the leather furniture and scattered Persian rugs said, “Don’t touch anything with your greasy crab puff fingers.” So I didn’t. I stepped onto the screened-in porch, moving quietly now that I was in full view of the yard and possibly Angelique.
While I served a trio of bored men chatting about their golf scores, I scanned the crowd around the pool at the far side of the massive lawn. The ladies wore summer dresses and white sandals. I refrained from rolling my eyes. For some upper crust New Orleans women, Labor Day marked the last chance to wear white shoes or pants until Easter. They would tuck away their summer whites tomorrow and keep them stowed with lavender sachets until spring, then show up to Easter Mass with hats and gloves on. The very next day it would be open season on white sandals again.
At the far edge of the pool near a Victorian style gazebo, I spotted Angelique with Tara and Amber bobbing in her wake. She stopped to chat with someone and brushed a lock of blond hair over the tanned shoulder exposed by her white sheath. It looked like a dress from the current Calvin Klein collection.
Shoot, this was Angelique. It probablywasthe dress from that collection.
Before I could slip back into the house, one of the golf shirt guys called me over for more crab puffs. By the time he’d decided which three he couldn’t live without, it was too late. I turned to find Angelique standing there smiling with the lively, open expression everyone loved her for.
“Cam. What a surprise. I didn’t know you’d be here. It’s my lucky day.” She sounded as delighted as could be.
“Hey, Angelique.” I held out the tray. “Crab puff?”
“It’s sweet of you to offer, but no. That doesn’t sound good to me right now. Let’s see, what do I want?” She tapped her cheek bone and pretended to think.
I knew what I wanted: to be far, far away.
“I know,” she said, as Amber and Tara walked up to cut me twin icy dagger looks. “I’d like pie.”
I nodded. “Sure. We have pecan and French silk. Which do you prefer?”
Despite my efforts to keep a completely neutral tone, her forehead wrinkled.
“Is something wrong?” she said. “I didn’t know anyone could sound angry when offering pie.”
Amber smiled and Tara giggled.
“Sorry,” I said, although I knew my tone had been courteous. My stomach churned as I realized that some of the businessmen were listening to the conversation. The one who had taken so long to pick out his crab puffs stood and walked over to put his arm around Angelique.
“This waitress isn’t bothering you, is she, honey?” he asked, his brow furrowed.
Typical. Of course if there was a problem, it would be my fault.
“No,” she said, her smile slipping. “It’s just that I asked for some pie, but I think I upset her.”
Bran stepped through the door with a slice of pecan pie on a plate. “That’s because she thinks it’s upsetting that anyone should have to choose between Miss Annie’s flavors. Here you go,” he said, handing her the slice. “I’ll keep an eye out and bring you some French silk when you’re done.” She accepted it with another warm smile as if it was exactly what she was hoping for. “Can I get the rest of y’all anything?” Bran asked. Her paunchy protector shook his head and drifted back toward his golfing buddies.
The door behind us opened again, and Mrs. LeBlanc stepped out. Angelique tensed.
“Well hey, Camille. Branford,” she said, nodding at him. “How’s your mama?”
“She’s good, Miss Cecilia, thank you.”
“Everything going all right tonight, sweetie?” she asked me. From the corner of my eye, I saw a muscle twitch in Angelique’s clenched jaw.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “It’s great.”
She took a long look at her daughter and smiled at me encouragingly. “You’re doing wonderful out here. You let me know if you need anything.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “Everyone’s been really nice. So far.” I added that as a subtle hint to Angelique. I’d never tattle on her; what would I say?Mrs. LeBlanc, Angelique asked for pie and I can’t prove it, but I know she’s trying to be nasty to me.Yeah, right. But maybe I could make her nervous enough about my intentions that she would leave me alone.
Mrs. LeBlanc laughed, the same perfect waterfall of notes that Angelique made, and patted my arm. “So far they haven’t had time to get much liquor down. Let me know if any of the judge’s friends act up after they’ve been to the bar a few times. I’ll make them straighten up and fly right.”
The strain of watching her mother be nice to me showed in the slight squint around Angelique’s eyes. “Mama, you act like it’s the old days,” she said with a smile that looked brittle at the edges. “No one is going to bother the help.”
Mrs. LeBlanc’s eyes narrowed. “They better not.” She patted my arm once more and moved off toward the pool, trailing an awkward silence in her wake.
