Bay St. Louis
Friday
Isabelle kissed her husband’s forehead and cheek without a response. Then she planted a kiss firmly on his lips and received only a sleepy grunt in return. Growing impatient, she shook his shoulder. “Na-ate,” she sang. “Time to get up.”
He turned over, pulling the sheet over his head. “No, Ma. I don’t want to go to school today.”
Isabelle took hold of his nose and twisted. “I am not your mother, and you’re getting up this minute.”
Nate bolted upright so fast Isabelle fell off the bed. “You little troublemaker. I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget.” He tickled her ribs through her cotton top.
She slapped his hands away. “I knew you were faking. Now go jump in the shower so we can be in position by zero seven hundred.”
Frowning, Nate crawled from the bed. “Mrs. Russo won’t even have breakfast on the table, and I’m starving.”
“I asked her to pack breakfast to go. We can eat while on surveillance.” Isabelle ignored Nate’s grumbling as she fluffed up their pillows.
Twenty minutes later, parked outside the Golden Magnolia, she pulled ham and egg croissants, two containers of fruit salad, and a thermos of coffee from a wicker hamper. “Mmm,” she said, opening one sandwich. “This smells delicious.”
Nate unwrapped his and took a bite. “What, no orange juice?”
Isabelle lifted out an orange plastic bottle. “Mrs. Russo thinks of everything. I wish I could live at her B and B forever.”
Nate took a long swallow and smiled. “Me too, sweet thing. That’s why I don’t like wasting our time with Craig.”
“Looks like we won’t waste much today.” Isabelle pointed at the entrance where Craig strolled from the casino, unaware of the approaching storm. She dropped her sandwich into the bag and jumped from the car.
Nate did the same, although with far less spring in his step.
“Good morning, Craig. Looks like another perfect day in paradise,” she said cheerily.
He sighed mightily. “Izzy, Nate. What are you doing here? I thought I made myself perfectly clear—”
“Relax,” she said. “We just want to buy you breakfast and see if you want to spend the day with us. Why don’t we take one of those fishing charters and catch a huge herring for supper?” Isabelle spread her hands to indicate a three-foot fish.
“No, no, and no. Just for the record, a herring is a tiny fish, barely enough for a pelican’s supper.” Craig slipped on his sunglasses and marched across the parking lot.
Isabelle quickly dogged his steps. “Please, Craig? I remember you once loved fishing but rarely had time for it. This is your big chance before your new job starts.”
“No thanks, Isabelle.”
As Craig dug for his keys, she cast her husband a pleading look.
“Come on, buddy,” said Nate, rallying to her cause. “Why not get away from the tables for a while? Let’s grab something to eat and talk sports. Izzy knows football like she knows fish.” Nate slapped Craig on the back.
“As appealing as that sounds, I’ve got to hit the sack. I’ve been up all night. Maybe before you two head back to Natchez.” Craig climbed into his car and lowered the window.
“Everybody’s got to eat. If you have breakfast with us, Izzy will stop dragging me out of bed before the sun’s up. You know how persistent she can be.”
“All right. One breakfast, but I pick the place. Follow me to the best food in Bay St. Louis.” Craig started the engine.
On the way to their car, Isabelle bumped Nate with her hip. “Later you’ll have to elaborate more on my personality. I’m utterly fascinated.”
“Just trying to convince him to join us. It worked, didn’t it?” With a wry smile Nate fell in behind Craig’s Toyota for the short drive.
Isabelle couldn’t argue with success, but their battle with Craig was just getting started. In the small diner with the biggest menu she ever saw, Craig gave his order the moment the waitress appeared.
“I’ll have three eggs, scrambled, bacon extra crispy, two flapjacks, wheat toast, and coffee,” he said.
Isabelle thought about her uneaten croissant in the car. Despite her aversion to wasting food, she ordered blueberry pancakes to be sociable. Nate selected shrimp and grits with a side of ham. While they waited for their food, the two men chatted about Saints and Titans football, and ran through the draft prospects for Ole Miss, Mississippi State, and LSU for good measure.
Isabelle tried to be patient, but when she started to nod off from boredom, she broached the topic on her mind. “The Gulf Coast has recovered nicely since Katrina. Why don’t you come sightseeing with us? We don’t mind company, and if you stay out of the casino, you’ll have money to take back to Nashville.”
“I’ll pass, Izzy.” Craig leaned back as the waitress placed a mounded platter in front of him. Then he picked up his fork and attacked the food as though he hadn’t eaten in days. Isabelle and Nate began to eat as well but with far less gusto. After several minutes, Craig took a slurp of coffee. “I’ve seen all the attractions I came here for. I’ve played a few tournaments. Now I’m getting invited to serious games. If I drop out of sight, I might lose my chance to win big.”
Isabelle arched her back against the vinyl seat. “Well, perhaps after Cassie arrives, you can tear yourself away long enough to walk the beach.”
Craig choked on the piece of bacon he was chewing. “What? You called Cassie after I told you not to?” He threw his fork down with a clatter. “Why are you still tormenting me after all these years?”
“I didn’t call her. She called me.”
“If you would have minded your own business in the first place—”
“Wait a minute, Craig,” Nate interrupted.
“No, you wait. You have no idea what trouble your wife has caused. If there’s any way to stop Cassie, you must do so. It’s not safe for her here.” Craig looked so anxious, so desperate, that Isabelle felt a jolt of fear run up her spine.
“If it’s not safe for Cassie,” said Nate, dropping his voice to a whisper, “it’s not safe for you, either. Let us help you for old times’ sake, before you’re in over your head.”
“Man, you are totally clueless. I’m already in over my head. It’s too late for intervention.” Craig imbued the word with derision. “I know you mean well, Nate, but please talk sense into Izzy. Keep her away from me. I don’t want her, or you, or my wife to get hurt. Trust me when I say there’s no other way.” Craig jumped up from the booth and ran out the door.
Isabelle and Nate stared at each other. Then Isabelle started crying, unsure why she cared so much about her ex. “Well, that’s it. No matter what happens, we tried our best.”
Nate shook his head. “No, my love, I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him. Not by a long shot.”