The Pepper in the Gumbo (Men of Cane River #1)(10)
“You want to meet them first? If they seem like they’re fixin’ to sign a lease d’rectly, I mean.”
Alice paused. June was a good realtor, but she also had a keen eye and great intuition. Her teased, blond hair and bright pink lipstick hid an uncanny ability to weed out unreliable renters. “You know, I think it’s okay if you want to handle that part. I trust you. If they’re interested, I’ll run over and plug in the icebox.” Plus, it was a really big building. They only shared a few walls and those were brick. If even this man held a few parties, it wasn’t likely to disturb her peaceful evenings.
“Okay, hon. I’ll ring you later and let you know how it went.”
Alice hung up and whispered a prayer of thanks. She pulled the rings out of her shirt and kissed them, hoping her parents could see her happiness. Whenever she felt like things were falling apart, God sent her a sign that she hadn’t been forgotten. She felt like a smile was permanently etched to her face. She filled the kitties’ water dishes and poured herself one more mug of coffee, letting the promise of good news color her mood.
Padding back into her bedroom, she searched through her closet for the cheeriest sundress she could find. She had a whole closet of retro clothing but today she felt like celebrating the possibility of a new renter. Slipping on a fitted, red polka dot shirtdress and a little white sweater, Alice decided a simple ponytail would finish the look. Not that she ever did anything much with her hair, since it was untamable. She grabbed a pair of red patent heels and set them by the front door.
One more cup of coffee and she’d head downstairs. The black-and-white tile kitchen floor gleamed in the early morning sunlight. She lifted the double-hung window above the old porcelain kitchen sink, propped it with a chipped mug that was older than she was, and inhaled. The air smelled of the river a few hundred feet away, the sky was a brilliant blue, and the humidity was finally easing off. A feeling of intense satisfaction filled her. She led a charmed life, compared to most of the world. Even with her money worries, her existence was about as peaceful as anyone could ask for.
Looking across at the row of hardwood trees that edged the opposite bank of Cane River Lake, she remembered the moment she’d learned Mr. Perrault had left her the shop. She was a month from graduating with a degree in English Literature. She’d already enrolled in a master’s of education program, assuming she would do what English majors did and teach. But Mr. Perrault’s last will changed the trajectory of her life, spinning her out of the program and back to Natchitoches.
Her college friends did their best to warn her, even sitting her down in a sort of intervention, laying out all the reasons she shouldn’t return to her tiny hometown. But what they didn’t understand was that Alice liked her quiet life, her small town, her Cane River people. She had never yearned for the big city. She was content in this place and she felt no shame in choosing it. In fact, she was thrilled to come home. The first years after college her friends would travel from Atlanta or Miami or Seattle. They wanted to experience the food, the accents and the cypress groves without the commitment of trying to make a living in the tiny tourist town. Alice was happy to play tour director. As much as they encouraged her to travel to their cities, she just never found the time.
Alice turned, letting her gaze wander over her little kitchen and toward the bright living room where every wall was covered with full bookshelves and the furniture was more comfortable than stylish. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to find the time. Maybe it had never been a question of money. This place was as much a part of her as her love of classic literature or her collection of cats.
When Cane River Lake flooded five years ago, she was out in the rain with everyone else, loading sandbags and praying for a miracle. When the grade school organized a bake sale to benefit the soccer team, she spent a whole weekend making pies, even though she’d never played soccer in her life. When the parish council wanted to impose an extra tax on little barbeque stands in the region, she picketed in front of city hall with her neighbors. She, Alice, who avoided crowds with the dedication of the truly introverted, had stood shoulder to shoulder with them and felt at home.
The smile that touched her lips at the memory, now slowly faded away. There was a new threat in town. It wasn’t flooding or a lack of school supplies or exorbitant taxes. But it was just as insidious, just as damaging. Alice pulled in a long breath, as if steadying herself for an argument. That ScreenStop store was not what Natchitoches needed. Her people had a culture that was unique to Louisiana, unique in all of the South, and she wasn’t about to let some entertainment giant kill it off with a steady diet of immorally violent games filled with bikini-clad warrior maidens. Mr. Perrault had given her countless lectures on the damaging effects of modern media and she was glad she’d listened. She kept her life simple and as low tech as possible. She ignored the fashion mags, didn’t watch the talk shows, and refused to get sucked into the latest TV shows. Especially the TV. Really, it seemed like every Emmy winner was either sickeningly violent or extolled a shallow kind of lifestyle contrary to everything she held dear.
If she had to track down the council person that gave ScreenStop an okay without a vote, she would. She was going to stop the construction any way she could. If they moved it across the river toward the other big box stores, she might be able to live with it, but there was no way she was going to let that technological eyesore exist down the block from her building.