Bay St. Louis
Following their instructions precisely, Nate and Isabelle turned down a street narrowed by double-parked cars, neglected trash cans in the ditch, and plastic cones marking the location of potholes. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” asked Isabelle.
Nate glanced at the dashboard GPS. “This is the address Johnny Herman gave me on the phone. I don’t think he’d steer us wrong after agreeing to help and telling us to come on Saturday.”
“In that case, Mr. Herman lives on the saddest block in Biloxi.”
“That’s not very nice, Izzy.” Nate pulled into a short driveway. The retired PI recommended by Art Lewis had been more than willing to talk to them. In fact, Mr. Herman sounded excited about Nate’s ideas. Maybe retirement wasn’t everything it was cracked up to be.
Isabelle coaxed a few wisps into her ponytail. “If more young gamblers saw how old ones ended up, they would quit a lot sooner.”
Nate stared at her, dumbfounded. “Why are you being so judgmental? We have no idea if his present circumstances have anything to do with gambling.”
“Why else would he be living here? According to the head of security, Mr. Herman was a successful investigator.” She frowned at the litter-strewn vacant lot next door.
“Plenty of people weren’t adequately insured when Katrina hit and ended up losing everything. Maybe you should wait here in the car. I’ll keep the windows rolled down so nobody calls the SPCA.”
“Very funny. Honestly, Nate. We know that Mr. Herman was a big gambler. Probably even the luckiest card sharks end up flat broke if they stay in the game long enough. I’m just saying that seeing this neighborhood could be a cautionary tale for Craig.” Climbing out of the car, Isabelle smoothed down her sundress.
Nate rolled his eyes and mimed a zipper across his lips. This wasn’t a good time to argue with her. Besides, the row of tiny, three-room cottages with patchy weeds instead of grass was depressing. Apparently, not everywhere along the Gulf Coast had recovered as nicely as Bay St. Louis. Nate knocked on the front door and waited. A few moments later, a seventyish man with a bent spine and white hair opened the door.
“Mr. Herman? Nate and Isabelle Price from Natchez. I spoke with you on the phone.”
“Yep, that’s me. Been expecting y’all. Come on in.” A hacking cough punctuated his invitation.
Isabelle smiled as she stepped inside, her normal temperament restored. “It’s so kind of you to see us, sir.”
“Pleasure’s mine, ma’am. Don’t get much company now that my boy lives in Texas. He’s got himself quite a brood out there, two boys and three girls. The airfare east would set them back an arm and a leg.” Herman tapped both appendages of his analogy. “Make yourselves comfortable.”
“Those five grandchildren must be a blessing to you, even if they are miles away.” Isabelle sat primly on the sofa.
“Oh, that they are.” Herman lifted a framed photograph off the mantel. “Here’s my son’s family.”
While Isabelle perused the seven smiling faces, Nate assessed the room. Although the furnishings weren’t up to House Beautiful standards, the home felt warm, welcoming, and filled with love. “Is Mrs. Herman around?” he asked. “I wanted to offer her my compliments. I’ll bet those are her handiwork.” Nate pointed at the purple and pink flowers in the window boxes.
Herman lowered himself into the recliner, his smile fading. “No, she passed two years ago this Christmas. But you guessed right—my wife planted those boxes. I do my best to keep them alive, but Betty had the green thumb. Heart of gold and thumb of green. I had that inscribed on her tombstone right above, ‘Waiting for the Lord’s return.’ ” His voice cracked with emotion.
“We’re so sorry for your loss,” said Nate. “Forgive my impertinence.”
Herman’s brow furrowed. “Don’t know much about impertinence, but I love talkin’ about my Betty. She was the light of my life.” He pushed to his feet and headed toward the door. “Come out back with me. Those flower boxes out front ain’t nothing compared to her garden.”
What Nate and Isabelle discovered was a secret retreat, enclosed with a redwood fence, transected by flagstone paths, and illuminated with strings of tiny white lights. There was a fishpond in the center with a wrought iron table and chairs, but it was the flowers that took your breath away. From the ornamental trees to the fragrant shrubs and down to the groundcover, everything in the yard was blooming.
“Wow!” Nate and Isabelle’s responses were identical.
“That’s what everybody says,” Herman said, chuckling. “This is what Betty wanted, so this is what she got. Took several years, but it was all worth it.”
“From the street no one would guess your little paradise is back here,” said Isabelle without thinking. She blushed with embarrassment. “I hope you don’t take that wrong.”
“That’s also what everybody says, and that’s how we wanted it. Didn’t want teenagers tearing up my hard work just to be ornery.” He pointed toward the chairs in the shade. “Have a seat if you don’t mind the heat.”
Isabelle plunked down. “Don’t mind if I do. I love it out here. And if you want to talk about Betty, we’ve got plenty of time. What did she think about your being a card shark?”
“Izzy!” Nate sounded shocked. “That’s none of our business. We came to ask Mr. Herman—”
“Hold up there, young man. She’s asking because she’s a wife who was once married to a compulsive gambler. I know the story—Mr. Lewis filled me in. She’s curious, and I don’t mind talkin’. Don’t get much of a chance to these days.” With a grin aimed solely at Isabelle, Herman sat down at the patio table.
Nate had no choice but to do the same.
“You’re probably thinkin’ our reduced circumstances are because of my playing poker. Not so. I never wagered much at the tables, just the allowance Betty gave me for being good.” He winked at Nate. “Whenever I won big, I’d buy something we needed, like a new mattress or a set of tires. And if I lost? It would be a long time before I saved up enough to hit the casino again. I never gambled the mortgage payment or grocery money the way some fools do.”
Herman turned his gaze skyward, where seagulls wheeled on warm air currents. “No, we sold our big house on the water and spent all our savings on her cancer treatments. Insurance refused to cover them because they were still experimental.” His inflection conveyed fury over the ruling. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way. Those treatments gave her several more good years. When we moved here, Betty transformed the backyard into a healing place. She gave the orders, like every wife knows how to do, and I did the heavy lifting.” He laughed from deep inside his belly.
Nate glanced at Isabelle, who sat so still she might have been hit by a mysterious bout of paralysis. “A dozen landscapers couldn’t have done a better job,” he said, encircling her shoulders with his arm.
Johnny Herman met his gaze. “Yes, sir. My Betty got her healing place. She went to the Lord filled with grace and not a bit of pain. This is where I’ll stay until I join her.”
“That’s the most beautiful story I ever heard,” Isabelle said, wiping tears from her face.
“Yes, ma’am, it might be, but don’t you worry. If I can help your ex-husband straighten himself out, I will. We want him to have a good life, like you have with Nate and I had with Betty.”
She eked out a weak, “Thank you, Mr. Herman. We’ll be eternally grateful for your help.”
“Ah, that ain’t necessary. After all, I like poker and haven’t played in quite some time. With the Golden Magnolia staking my game, I’ll be sitting in high cotton.” His hoot spooked several sparrows from their perch. “You tell Art Lewis I’ll stop by Monday afternoon. If there’s a high-stakes game in one of the poker rooms, one of us should be able to wrestle an invite. Knowing Art, he’ll even throw in a free buffet.”
Nate took Isabelle’s arm and helped her to her feet. “Don’t forget, Mr. Herman, if you ever have need of a PI or are ever in Natchez, give me a call.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Now why don’t you take your wife out to dinner? We both know women love meals they don’t have to cook.”
“That’s exactly what I’ll do.” Nate shook hands, and then Isabelle hugged him tightly. After they left, it was an unusually quiet drive back to the B and B, both lost in their own thoughts.
Isabelle didn’t speak until Nate parked in their designated spot. “If I ever act so high-and-mighty again, I want you to whack me with a phone book.”
“I can’t imagine that happening, not in light of my numerous personal shortcomings.”
She stared straight ahead, her lower lip trembling. “I’ve never been so ashamed of myself in my life.”
Nate kissed her cheek. “You are human, dear wife. Perfection is the domain of angels, not us mere mortals.”
“After we get Craig straightened out, could we do something nice for Mr. Herman?”
“You do realize we’ll be on our way home soon.”
“I know, but if we have time?” Isabelle look at him with moist, shiny eyes.
“Why not? We can always hang out at the beach after we retire.”