The Pepper in the Gumbo (Men of Cane River #1)(89)
Chapter Twenty-Six
If the human race wants to go to hell in a hand basket,
technology can help it get there by jet.― Charles Mengel Allen
Paul’s phone rang and he didn’t move to answer it.
“You can’t ignore her forever ,” Andy said. He didn’t lift his eyes from the screen where he was working.
“Says who?” Paul muttered. Holly had been calling nonstop since she arrived the day before. His mother had managed to get her settled into one of the old-time bed and breakfasts, but Holly was convinced they would be spending lots of time together. Her voicemails included detailed descriptions of the canopy bed and the antiques in the bathroom. Paul was waiting for the ugly moment she realized he wasn’t going to be joining her. He gritted his teeth. None of this was his fault. He’d never given Holly any kind of encouragement, but here she was anyway.
“After this is all over, maybe we can take her on our bream fishing trip. Or the frog gigging. You did promise some frog gigging, if I remember correctly. That would scare her away.” Andy said.
“Oh, man. I’m sorry.” Paul dragged a hand through his hair. “I’ve been so wrapped up in these―”
“Girl problems,” Andy said.
“Business issues,” Paul said, “that I completely forgot I was supposed to be making a Southerner out of you.”
“Well, maybe I better find another mentor. Maybe you’re not the right guy for the job. In fact, I think you just might be a Yankee in disguise,” Andy said, pretending to be disgusted.
“Huh. I’m so Southern, I’m related to myself,” Paul said. “Just because I can pass in two cultures, doesn’t make me a traitor.”
“Seriously, though. We should take an afternoon and get out of here.”
Paul nodded. “I think you’re right. Nothing like a Tuesday afternoon spent on the river.” He didn’t know if he could take running into Alice right now. Every day, every hour, he went through the same cycle of emotions: anger, sadness, acceptance, hope. No matter how it started, it always came back to hope, even though there was no chance it would work out for them.
“Let’s do it, then.” Andy pulled out his phone. “I’ll move the meeting we had this afternoon and let’s just go hang out in a leaky boat somewhere.”
“Sounds like a plan.” He stopped, thinking hard. “But I don’t know where a good spot is. I suppose we could hire a river boat or book one of those fishing tours.”
“Doesn’t sound like we’d have much privacy.” Andy knew what it was like sometimes. Anything they said could and would be held against them, if someone was offered the right price. It got old when they had to watch every word.
“Well, there might be someone…” Paul hauled out the phone book. After a few minutes he dialed the number. “Mr. Beaulieu? It’s Paul Olivier. I was wondering if you knew any good fishing spots.”
Paul flashed Andy a thumbs up. “Great! And would you like to join us? We can meet you in about thirty minutes. I’ll stop for night crawlers at the shack down on Bayou Pierre Cutoff Road.” He beamed at the response. “See you there.”
After he hung up, Andy asked, “Who’s that?”
“Bix. From Alice’s shop.” Paul started to shut down his laptop, feeling lighter than he had in days.
“Is that a good idea? I mean…”
“Why? It’s not like we’re divorcing and we have to split up the friends.” Paul shrugged. “I only met the guy a few times. Seems real nice. I don’t think Alice cares what the old guy does on his own time.”
“Well, I sure hope you’re right.” Andy closed his computer and stood up. “I’ll go change into my overalls and plaid shirt.”
“You’d be better off with a life jacket. The skimmers are feisty, but some of these older bream can grow to fifteen pounds.” He looked up at Andy’s expression. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you get dragged down to the bottom.”
Andy wandered away, muttering under his breath about a conspiracy to get a new CTO. Paul tried not to laugh as he cleared up the table, gathering packets and papers. He picked up an envelope and, as he touched it, he remembered the book he’d scanned. Paul stood there, staring down into the loose pages of The Duke’s Secret and wishing he’d never responded to Alice’s message. It would have been a lot better for everyone. It certainly would have saved him a lot of heartache.
***
Alice was just setting the alarm when she looked out the front window and saw Bix pull up neatly in front of the shop. But it couldn’t have been Bix driving the bright green Caddy, because he didn’t drive along the curb for twenty feet until he saw the big sign in the front of her building. The sun reflected on the windshield, but she could see several people in the car. Ruby didn’t drive. Alice was already out the door, heart hammering in her chest, before she thought of any other people who could be in the driver’s seat.
She arrived at the car, worry giving her speed, just as the engine switched off. Alice crouched down. She spoke to a man in a hat through the cracked driver’s side window. “Is Bix okay? Did he crash?” She turned as Andy pulled up behind them in the rental car. A moment later, she realized her mistake and stepped back.