December 21st
Natalie waited until nearly 9:00 a.m. before heading down to breakfast the next morning, hoping to avoid her neighbor across the hall. Several people crowded around the snack bar, filling the room with the buzz of their conversations. She targeted a single remaining table in the far corner, sighed in relief when she didn’t see him in the room. Hopefully, he’d eaten and headed out already. She filled her plate at the buffet and seated herself. The proprietress approached with a coffee carafe and filled her cup with the rich, aromatic brew.
“Thank you, Ms. Beth. What’s with the full house this morning?”
“I asked them to meet here so we could discuss final details of our annual Christmas hayride. Every year, we gather food items, frozen turkeys, and gifts for needy families in the area. We distribute them during the hayride, singing Christmas carols along the way. It’s a great way to relieve the stress of holiday preparations, have some fun, and do a little good for our neighbors all at the same time. I figured since these folks came out of their way to convenience us the least we could do is give them a hearty breakfast.”
“I haven’t been on a hayride since high school. Sounds like fun,” Natalie admitted.
“It was supposed to be tomorrow, but we’re moving it up to tonight because of that frontal system coming through tomorrow. It won’t serve any of us to catch pneumonia three days before Christmas.”
“Frontal system?” Natalie asked, wide-eyed. She really should turn on the TV every now and then—if nothing else, to get the local weather report.
Beth’s voice trilled with laughter. “Honey, have you been hiding under a rock the last few days? It’s mild now, but by tomorrow evening we’ll see the temps drop by nearly forty degrees. They’re talking mid-teens by the morning of the 23rd—we could even have snow for Christmas.” She paused, placed her hand on Natalie’s arm. “What’s the matter, honey? The weather in Biloxi isn’t any different from ours.”
“No—it’s just that I—uh—is there a mall near here?”
“Sure. The Prien Lake Mall in Lake Charles. You need to get in some last-minute Christmas shopping?”
“Something like that.” Natalie groaned inwardly. “Thanks, I’ll pull it up on my car’s navigational system.” She sucked in her breath at the sight of Mack Henry, standing with a plate full of food and looking for an empty seat.
“Good morning, Mack!” Beth called out to him. “I’m afraid this is the last seat in the house if you don’t mind sharing a table with this pretty lady, here.” She looked down at Natalie. “Is that okay with you, honey?”
Natalie gave Mack the once over and swallowed. Maybe Beth’s Christmas spirit rubbed off on her, but she decided it wouldn’t hurt to be nice. “Sure, mi mesa es tu mesa.” His look of confusion had her grinning. “Sit, Mr. Henry. I promise not to bite.”
“You want coffee, Mack?” Beth asked, lifting her carafe.
“Yes, please.” When she’d left to get him a mug, he set his plate down and sat across from Natalie. “Thanks. This is generous, considering our first meeting.”
“No problem. Spirit of Christmas and all…”
He flashed a grin. “Hard not to feel it here, isn’t it? I mean, this place is overflowing with Christmas joy, am I right?”
She smiled at the hint of laughter in his deep blue eyes. “Yeah, but I’ve got a feeling it’s like this all year round.”
His brow furrowed. “The decorations?”
“No—the good will to men and all. Judging from the reviews this place gets regularly from repeat guests, they’re generally nice people.”
He nodded and bit into a slice of crispy bacon. “They seem to be.”
They dug into their breakfasts, nearly identical in the items they’d chosen to fill their plates. Eventually their small talk circled to the expected frontal system.
Mack’s jaw dropped at her description of the anticipated drop in temperature. “In the teens? Are you serious?”
Natalie put down her fork, swallowed her last delicious bite of sticky bun. “That’s what I hear.”
Mack wiped his mouth on a napkin. “I need to rent a car and hit a department store. I didn’t come prepared for anything that cold.”
She frowned. “But Drew said you flew in from Minnesota. You must have something warm.”
“The clothes and coat I wore for the flight. I have jeans but thought I’d be spending a week in a warmer climate—my duffle’s full of T-shirts. People might get sick of seeing me in the same blue and tan plaid flannel shirt the entire week.”
She nodded, picturing him framed inside the doorway of his room across the hall. “Yeah, I remember seeing it.” The blue had complimented his eyes beautifully. “Just before—”
He splayed his hands before him. “I know—before I mistook you for the housekeeper. But in my defense, you had an armful of linens.”
She pursed her lips, looked down her nose at him. “In my defense, I hadn’t recuperated from a six-hour road trip the previous night. And I’d just dumped a large cup of coffee on my bed. I’d gone downstairs to ask for a fresh set of linens and insisted on changing them myself.”
“And you gave me your blanket.”
“I did.”
“Still, I shouldn’t have assumed—”
She waved off his comeback. “It’s forgotten. And as strange as this sounds, when it comes to being unprepared for winter storms, I bet I’ve got you beat.”
“How so?”
“I’ve got a suitcase full of nothing but swimwear, shorts, and sundresses.”
He leaned forward, his forearms resting on either side of his empty plate. “There’s a story there—I just know it.”
She grinned out of one side of her mouth. “I was in the New Orleans airport, on my way to the Bahamas with my parents—not my idea of a vacation, but my mother wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“You’re from New Orleans?”
“Biloxi—we were visiting my grandmother. Anyway, my girlfriend called, looking for someone to take her reservation for this place, and I jumped at the chance.”
“How convenient. Did you two have that planned?”
“No, Pam had purchased this as her fiancé’s Christmas gift before she caught him with his assistant. When they split up, she couldn’t face coming here but couldn’t get a refund at this late date. I took her offer, rented a car, and high-tailed it over here.”
“Were your parents upset you cancelled on them?”
“They tried to act disappointed, but I’m always a third wheel around them. Those two are still crazy about each other after forty years of marriage. It’s nauseatingly sweet for someone in my position.”
“Your position?”
She took a deep breath and released it slowly, prepared for the change—in his tone, mannerism or facial expression—once he heard her explanation. “My husband died last year.”
“I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere, but didn’t break eye contact with her. “Was he ill?”
“In a traffic accident.” Her thumb found her wedding band, spun it around on her finger.
“That’s tough. Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. It’s been—challenging.” She placed her napkin on her plate and sat back. “I plan to get some shopping in at the mall in Lake Charles today.”
“Could you drop me off at the nearest car rental dealership?”
“Just ride along. No use both of us renting a car.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all. I hate driving alone in unfamiliar cities. You could navigate for me.”
He sat back, seemed to mull it over briefly before giving her a nod. “I’ll buy you a tank of gas. When do we leave?”
She looked at her watch. “The mall is open, so I’m ready whenever you are.”
He rose and walked around the table to pull her chair out for her. “Let’s hit the road, then.”
By 2:00 p.m. Natalie had put a good dent in her wardrobe deficiency. She entered the food court and located Mack amidst the noisy throng of last-minute Christmas shoppers. He saw her and approached, clutching a single large bag. “Have you eaten yet?”
“No, I didn’t want to start without you.” He pointed at the tiny bag in her hand. “Don’t tell me that’s all you bought?”
She laughed at his ludicrousness statement. “I brought mine to the car earlier after I nearly pulled a muscle lugging all my stuff.” She lifted the remaining bag. “I found a booth selling hats and gloves on the way here. Let’s go back to the car.” She turned and started walking.
“I thought we were eating at the food court. I’m kind of hungry.”
“I called Beth for the name of a good restaurant. She recommended a diner over by the bus depot—the owner’s a friend of theirs and Beth claims it’s the best food in town from burgers to seafood.”
She checked out his bag as they headed toward her car. “Did you find everything you needed? That bag doesn’t look overly stuffed.”
“I picked up a few more flannel shirts and a couple of pullover sweaters—I have all the jeans I needed and left Minnesota wearing my coat and boots.” He shrugged. “I’m good—although I didn’t think about gloves. I could use a pair.”
“The booth I found had a nice selection of men’s leather gloves. It’s just ahead.”
Mack picked up a pair of gloves and they headed to her rental. His mouthed gaped when she opened the trunk to add his bags. “You bought all that in the short time we were in there?”
She winked at him. “My shopping efficiency is exceeded only by my fabulous taste. Now let’s go find that diner. I’m starved for some good Cajun cooking.”
He put the diner’s address in his phone’s GPS and they headed out, while she explained the difference between jambalaya and etouffee.
Mack consulted his phone’s screen. “Take a right on the next street. How does a girl from Mississippi know so much about Cajun food?”
“Biloxi’s not far from the Louisiana border. We have several excellent Cajun restaurants there. My mom is from New Orleans and insists that most of them lean toward Creole cooking rather than Cajun. According to her and my grandmother, it’s two completely different styles.”
“And is she a good cook?”
“My mom?” Natalie hooted with laughter. “By the time I was six I’d memorized the entire McDonald’s menu and knew that I preferred thin crust over pan pizza. Mom’s interior design business took precedence over cooking, other than the occasional pancakes or canned biscuits and scrambled eggs for breakfasts. Now my grandmother—” She turned at the street light ahead of them. “That woman can cook. It’s difficult for her to get around in the kitchen now that she’s in her eighties. I’d give her seafood gumbo a solid four out of four stars, for sure.”
“Did she teach you?”
“I’ve collected quite a few recipes from her over the years.” Her mind took her instantly to the last meal she’d cooked for her husband. “Craig loved my shrimp and sausage pasta—something I came up with myself—put my own spin on it, you know? Oh look, there’s the diner.” She filled a spot just vacated by a large SUV.
Mack got out of the car and stared at the diner. Its large painted glass window boasted Boudreaux and Thibodeaux’s in bold lettering.
A lovely young woman with long wavy hair and big brown eyes greeted them warmly at the door. “Welcome to Boudreaux and Thibodeaux’s! My name’s Ava and I highly recommend today’s special. Emmelia has cooked up a batch of her crawfish corn chowder, with fresh Louisiana crawfish, of course. It’s delicious, but you can order anything off of our menu.”
After a quick perusal of the menu, Natalie glanced at Mack. “I have two questions: do you trust me and do you have any food allergies? I don’t want you blowing up like a balloon fish on me.”
He laughed. “Yes, and no, in that order.”
She ordered the special for herself and the seafood sampler tray for Mack, so he could experience a little of everything.
The owner, Pops LaCour, came by to introduce himself, explained that he and his wife had been friends with the Brunson’s for over twenty years.
They left the diner an hour later, their bellies full, and completely at ease with each other.
Mac followed ‘Nat’ upstairs to her room, pleased that she’d asked him to use her preferred nickname. He deposited the armload of bags on her bed and backed slowly towards the door. “Thanks again for the ride.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome. Hey, when I called Beth earlier, she talked me into going along with them on that hayride tonight. Are you going?”
He hadn’t considered it before, but if Nat would be there … “Maybe I will.”
She looked at her ringing phone. “That’s my mom. I better get it or she’ll send the police to my door. She’s a worrier.”
He lifted one hand in a farewell. “Later.”
Inside his room, he removed all traces of packaging materials from his new clothes and headed downstairs with them. He found Ms. Beth straightening up in the living area. “Can you point me in the direction of a washer and dryer?”
She led him through a door at the opposite end of the kitchen. “Got some new duds?”
“Yeah, I tagged along with Natalie. I believe we’re both ready for the cold front.”
“It’ll be chilly by tonight, but downright frigid by tomorrow evening. Poor Drew has been wrapping pipes and making sure the generators are up to speed in case of power outages. We cook and heat water with gas but our water well runs on electricity. Occasionally, we’ll have a situation with frozen pipes.”
She started his batch of laundry washing and closed the door behind them. “If you want to come along on the hayride with us tonight, our van leaves here at 6:30 sharp.”
“I’m considering it.” He went up to his room, tried to read, but his mind kept flashing to thoughts of Natalie and her story. Life could certainly throw curve balls at any moment in time. His own story had proven that. Mack slammed the book shut and tossed it on the nightstand, perused the collection of coffees and cocoas. He splayed one hand over his full stomach, and turned away.
He headed downstairs, put one batch of his laundry to dry and a second batch washing then headed outside to offer Drew assistance with storm preparations.
Mack trailed Drew into the kitchen two hours later, still laughing from the lodge owner’s recently delivered punch-line to a joke.
Beth looked up from pulling an oversized tray of cookies from the oven. “What’s so funny?”
Engulfed by the tantalizing aroma of baked deliciousness, Mack turned to her. “Your husband’s been entertaining me with his vast repertoire of Cajun jokes.”
Beth placed the tray on a rack to cool and popped another into the hot oven. “He brings in the laughs at poor old Boudreaux and Thibodeaux’s expense, don’t you, old man?”
“His timing and delivery are impeccable—as is the accent,” Mack offered. “I keep telling him he could have his own vlog and go viral.”
“And I told him that sounds like something that requires a trip to the doctor, so no thank you!” Drew planted a kiss on his wife’s cheek then pulled back. “Mack here was just telling me that Minnesota has its own version of Boudreaux and Thibodeaux, but it’s an old married couple named Ole and Lena.”
Beth laughed. “Speaking of old married couples, did you and Nat visit Pops and Lena Mae’s diner today?”
Mack rubbed his belly. “Sure did, and thanks for the recommendation. That was some mighty good eating.”
“Speaking of good eating—” Drew reached for a tray of cookies.
Lana slapped her husband’s hand away and lifted her finger in warning. “Doc said to watch your sugar intake, Andrew Madison!”
Mack slapped a hand on Drew’s shoulder. “The situation must be serious. She pulled the big-gun-middle-name on you.”
“Serious, my big toe! My sugar is just fine,” Drew grumbled. He waited until she turned her back on him to steal a cookie and hit the door.
“They’ll be cutting off that big toe one day when you lose circulation in it!” Beth called out as he scurried from the room. She released her breath in a huff, faced Mack and shook her head. “I’ve been struggling for five years to keep his borderline diabetic status from crossing over into a full-blown case of insulin dependency. He’s a hard sell, that’s for darn sure.”
Mack leaned over the cookies and breathed in the aroma. “He says your baking makes it impossible to resist, and I’m beginning to see why. I hope these are for us?”
“I’m making goodies for after the hayride tonight.” She used a spatula to lift a cookie from the tray and handed it to him on a napkin. “I call these my loaded chocolate mint cookies. Nothing’s better with a cup of hot cocoa—warms and satisfies at the same time.”
He bit into it, his mouth exploding with a combination of chocolate, crunchy peppermint and pecan pieces mingling with the buttery sweet goodness of the chewy cookie. “Poor Drew—” he groaned. “Now I know what he’s talking about.” He finished the rest of it off in one bite. “It’s probably a combination of your vigilance and him working hard around here that keeps him healthy.”
She continued sliding the cooled cookies from one tray to a large container. “Yes, but when he retires for good, I told him he’ll have to join a gym or change his eating habits. He insists that either one of those would take all the fun out of living, so what’s the point?” Beth lowered her spatula and stared ahead. “But I surely can’t imagine my life without him in it.” She straightened and lifted her chin, as though shaking off any morose thoughts, and continued her work.
He remembered his new clothes and headed for the laundry room until she stopped him.
“It’s all tended to. Everything’s folded or hung in your closet.” She looked up from her work. “It’s the least I could do since you helped out Drew. Maybe we should be paying you to stay here.”
“Thank you, but I sleep better at night if I keep busy during the day.”
Beth smiled at him. “Remember, the van leaves at 6:30—I’d hate to see you miss out on an opportunity to have some fun.”
“I’ll be there.” He headed for the stairway, his step a little lighter. If Nat planned to go, he would too.