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Chapter 39
April 2005
William groaned
as the morning sunlight filtered through the window, drawing
him awake. Squinting, he could make out details in Elizabeth's
bedroom that had escaped him the night before: the soft pastel
color of the walls and her dresser, with various bits of jewelry
lying about, a beanie of Riptide keeping guard over it all. He
wondered if it was the same one he bought for her in Memphis
so many years ago. He could hear the soft clanking of the ceiling
fan. He could also smell coffee brewing.
That fact caused
him to roll over and look at the other side of the bed. Sure
enough, it was empty; Elizabeth had already arisen. Listening
closely, he could hear someone in the kitchen. Will rolled over
onto his other side and got out of bed. Recovering his clothes,
he made his way into the bathroom.
An internal debate
ensued as he stared at Elizabeth's toothbrush. It was William's
habit to brush his teeth first thing in the morning, and his
mouth felt cottony, but he couldn't bring himself to use her
toothbrush.
Hell, I just
slept with her, but…I just can't. She might get offended. William squeezed a bit of toothpaste
on his forefinger and used it instead.
Refreshed and dressed,
William left the bedroom. The first sight he beheld was the two
place settings at the table, napkins and all, with the morning's
Times-Picayune between them. He turned and the domestic
scene was complete: Elizabeth was in the kitchen in a flowery
robe of blue and pink and shocking pink bunny slippers, cooking
bacon, humming softly to herself. He quietly stole into the kitchen
and embraced her from behind.
"Guess who?"
For an instant she
started, and then she relaxed in his arms. "Hmm…Harry
Connick, Jr.?"
Will turned her
around. "Bad guess." They shared a kiss. "Good
morning, my darling."
"Oh, don't
you go start talking all lovey to me. You'll make me burn the
bacon."
He released her.
"Whoa! Burn the bacon? I'll behave, Mommy, I promise!"
She smirked. "Pour
me some coffee, smart guy."
He eyed the coffee
cups beside the machine. "Lizzy, do you have any mugs?"
"Yes, just
in the cabinet above. The cups aren't big enough?"
He shrugged as he
opened the cabinet door. "I like using a mug; I have to
refill less often."
"How often
is that?"
"Oh, I drink
about six mugs a day." He began pouring the coffee. "Sugar
and cream in yours, right?"
"Yes."
She was touched that he remembered. "Six mugs a day? How
can you sleep at night?"
"Caffeine doesn't
bother me. Besides, I drink coffee & chicory. It doesn't
have that much caffeine." He handed her a cup.
"It's your
lucky day, then. That's Community New Orleans Blend."
"I drink French
Market myself, but Community's good." He took a sip. "Mmm…just
what I needed."
A bawdy grin spread
over Lizzy's face. She grew closer to him. "I wear you out,
lover?"
"Now look who's
trying to burn the bacon."
She playfully slapped
his upper arm. "Go read the paper. Breakfast will be ready
in a minute. How do you like your eggs?"
"Any way's
fine."
"Sunny side
up?"
"Sure."
Will retreated to the table but didn't pick up the newspaper.
He was enchanted watching Elizabeth putter about the kitchen.
Is this my future? Man, I hope so.
Less than ten minutes
later a plate of eggs, bacon, and grits was set before William.
"They're instant grits, Will," Lizzy apologized. "Do
you want some juice?"
"Yeah, that
would be nice." Soon both were sitting down, enjoying the
breakfast. At least Will was. Lizzy was blushing at Will's numerous
compliments to her skills in the kitchen. She was enjoying Will's
presence far more than she anticipated - so much that she knew
she was going to hate it when he left. During their second cup
of coffee, Will cleared his throat; she knew what that
meant.
"Lizzy…umm…I
gotta fly out of town Sunday. I've got a meeting in New York
first thing Monday morning."
Lizzy nodded, her
heart sinking.
"I really can't
help it, it's important. So, I was wondering…I know this
is last minute, but do you think we can spend some time together
today?" Lizzy looked up. Once again she had misjudged him.
She saw his hopeful, almost shy eyes. "Nothing big, we could
just walk around the Quarter. The weather's so nice…"
"Yes!"
Elizabeth cried before she could control herself. "I mean,
that would be lovely, Will."
"I'm not taking
you away from any plans you've got?"
"Just washing
my clothes and making groceries. I'd love to go. But I'll have
to clean up. When do you want to go?"
William grinned.
"As soon as you're ready. We'll need to stop by my place,
so I can grab a shower."
Elizabeth smiled
as she gathered the plates and carried them to the sink. She
thought for a moment to clean up the kitchen, but she was too
impatient for her impromptu date with Will. She waved at him
as she retreated to her bedroom.
Forty-five minutes
later, a still damp-haired Elizabeth Boudreaux walked out of
her bedroom fastening an earring. She had put on a sleeveless
blouse with a light skirt and open-toed heels. She noticed William
sitting on the couch with the paper in his hands. Glancing at
the kitchen, she received her second surprise of the morning.
"Will! You
cleaned the kitchen?"
Will put down the
paper and stood up. "Yeah, it's no big deal. I've been a
bachelor for too many years."
"Mr. Darcy,
if you're trying to get on my good side - it's working!"
There were those
darn dimples again. "Good. Ready to roll?"
Lizzy swallowed
nervously as she voiced the resolution that had come to her in
the shower. "Umm, Will, would it be okay if I took my own
car and followed you?"
"Yeah, sure.
Why?"
She could not look
him in the eye. "Well…I thought I could drop you off
at the airport tomorrow. You won't have to leave your car there."
Will noticed the
extra-large handbag slung over her shoulder - big enough to hold
a change of clothes. The implications of her offer became very
apparent. He smiled again, but this one telegraphed his serious
regard for her. He crossed to her and put his hands on her shoulders,
the action causing Lizzy to look at him.
"I would like
that very much…" he began, his voice soft, "…but
you know what this means, don't you?"
"No, what?"
Without changing
the timber of his voice, he said, "You'll have to pick me
up Tuesday evening."
Lizzy grinned at
his teasing. "You haven't ridden with me yet. You may regret
that."
"I doubt it,"
he said as he kissed her.
~*~*~
The traffic was
light that late April Saturday morning. They made excellent time
and were soon deep in the Warehouse District. Lizzy followed
Will's BMW to the garage of an old six-story brick building that
had been converted into a condominium complex. He rolled down
his window and waved for her to follow him as the automatic door
opened. Lizzy piloted her CR-V through the garage that took up
most of the ground floor of the building. She pulled into an
empty parking space next to Will. Only after she had gotten out
of her Honda did she notice that both spots were marked with
the number "301."
"Each unit
has two parking spaces reserved," Will explained. "Extra
parking is outside."
"Good, I didn't
want your neighbors mad at me for taking their spot."
"Elevator's
this way." As they got in and Will pressed the button for
his floor, he added, "There's a pin code for the garage
door. I'll write it down for you when we get upstairs."
Elizabeth was taken
aback at his off-hand comment, but she hid it well. She was trying
to decide if she should decline his offer, when the doors opened
to a tastefully appointed hallway. "My place is this way;
down the hall at the end," Will said as he directed her
with a hand to her back.
Soon she was in
William Darcy's condo. A corner unit, it received ambient light
from two directions. It was an open-plan design - mainly modern
industrial, with a bit of New Orleans funk thrown in. Lizzy fell
in love with the place.
"Will, it's
beautiful!"
"Thanks."
"Is that a
Michalopoulos?" she asked as she walked over to a large
painting placed in a prominent location.
"Yeah, I got
it a few years ago. You like it?"
"Oh, yes."
She knew the name James Michalopoulos very well. Acclaimed by
many as the premier artist of and in New Orleans, his studies
of the architecture and people that make the city unique were
remarkable for their technical prowess and for their emotional
verity. His work had been described as expressionistic, gestural,
energetic, and colorful. The slabs of paint, the curved lines,
the mix of bright and dark - few people captured New Orleans
like Michalopoulos.
"If you want,
we can go by his gallery; it's on Bienville."
She nodded as she
studied the painting. Then with a smile to him, she continued
her exploration. Will watched her as she walked about the place.
She then saw two other paintings in the room and began to laugh.
A George Rodrigue Blue Dog was set opposite a Jim Tweedy Red
Cat. She looked over her shoulder at him. "You're bad!"
He grinned in appreciation;
so many people didn't get the visual joke.
She moved to the
glass door to the outside balcony and looked out. "Will,
it's great, but all you can see is the building across the street."
She turned to him. "I'm surprised."
"How so?"
"Well…I
figured you for a penthouse kind of guy."
He shrugged. "Nah.
I mean, this place is fine for now, but it's really just a place
to sleep and eat. Home's Pemberley, the family plantation in
St. Charles Parish."
"If that's
home, how come you have this place?"
"It's closer
to work. I miss out on a forty-minute commute. And with Gina
at Auburn, I'd just rattle around that big ol' place. If I had
a family, it would be different. We'd live at Pemberley, and
I'd have DGS buy this place to use for visiting customers. We
don't need an expensive penthouse for that. So, until I settle
down, I'll hang my hat here. Oh, that reminds me…"
He turned and walked into the kitchen area. Rummaging through
a drawer, he said, "Let me write down that pin number."
Lizzy watched silently
as he completed his task. Shutting the drawer, he walked to her.
"Just punch in the numbers, then the pound sign," he
instructed as he gave her his business card with the number written
on the back.
"Will, you
don't have to…"
"But I want
you to have it. Look, I also gave you my private cell number.
That way you can call me and leave dirty messages."
"Will!"
He kissed her cheek.
"I'll get a key made for you. Just make yourself at home.
I won't be long." He smiled as he left the room. Lizzy stood
there in an agitated mood. She hated when he did that. He was
still the controlling, domineering guy he was in college.
Except this domineering
guy loves me. She began
pacing. Oh, why does everything have to be so complicated?
One moment he's sweet and thoughtful, the next he's arranging
my life. I'm not his corporation…
She stopped as comprehension
flowed over her. She remembered that last time she saw him in
college - or wanted to see him, rather. When she hurried to his
graduation to apologize, only to find out he wasn't there because
his father was just killed.
I am such an
idiot. He's been running things - by himself - for five years.
No dad, no mom, raising Gina by himself, running a billion dollar
international shipping firm fresh out of MBA school. He's not
controlling; he's self-reliant. He's not used to checking with
anybody - something needs to get done, he does it. She looked at the card. Stop thinking
so much! He asked me to trust him! This is his way of saying
he trusts me! He's opening his whole life to me. Have I been
that open to him? And he does love me! All I have to do is ask
him to ask if I want something done before he does it
for me. Why am I afraid to do that? Am I afraid he's going to
fall out of love with me?
There - I said
it. Now, think about it. He said he's loved me since Tulane.
Why is that so hard to believe? Haven't I loved him the whole
time? Okay, so we're nuts about each other. If we are truly meant
to have a life together, I should not be afraid of talking with
the guy. Is our love so weak it can't stand up to a disagreement?
What's the worst that can happen? We might get into an argument?
Like that won't happen if we get married…
The dreaded "M"
word stopped her short. Married. Do I want to marry him?
Yes.
She smiled. She
knew what she had to do.
William was soaping
himself as quickly as he could in his oversized shower, looking
forward to exploring the French Quarter with Elizabeth. Thinking
intently as to the places they should visit, he didn't react
to the opening of the shower door until he felt a pair of hands
on him.
"Wha…Lizzy!?"
"Need any help
scrubbing your back, Mr. Darcy?"
~*~*~
The Warehouse District,
or American District (as real old timers remembered), was the
old industrial part of New Orleans for most of the hundred years
from the time Louisiana joined the United States to just before
the Second World War. It separated what was now called the Central
Business District from the Uptown and Garden District residential
areas upriver. After WWII, businesses moved to the sprawling
industrial parks in eastern Orleans Parish and Elmwood in Jefferson
Parish. The brick and stone warehouses, machine shops, and food
processing plants were abandoned and decayed until the urban
redevelopment craze started after the 1984 World's Fair. Now
it was the most progressive area in the city, with condos, apartments,
shops, restaurants, clubs, and galleries. The Children's Museum
had been in the neighborhood for years, and few people could
remember a time when the Confederate Museum wasn't in existence,
but now there was an explosion of art and history. The University
of New Orleans was instrumental in launching the Ogden Museum
of Southern Art. And across the street, historian Stephen Ambrose
lived to see his dream of a D-Day Museum grow to be the de facto
museum of World War II for the United States.
Downriver of the
Warehouse District lay the pie-shaped Central Business District,
the heart of commercial enterprise in Louisiana. Tall skyscrapers
and enormous hotels sat shoulder to shoulder. The grand boulevards
of Canal Street and Poydras Street helped define the area. Here,
oil and gas companies, financial concerns and transportation
firms helped build the economic strength of the nation. Here
was also the headquarters of the Port of New Orleans, one of
the largest in the world. Hard against Interstate 10 were the
mighty Louisiana Superdome and the medical complex of LSU and
Tulane. At the other end, the narrow end near the river, were
the Harrah's land-based casino and the one million square foot
Morial Convention Center.
One block downriver
of Canal Street was the true heart of New Orleans: the Vieux
Carré, the Old Square, the French Quarter. Stretching
twelve blocks from Canal Street downriver to Esplanade Avenue
and seven to nine blocks inland to Rampart Street, it was one
of the most famous areas of real estate in the country.
Most tourists -
those who turned down the numerous carriage tours - didn't know
about any of that. They only wanted to sample one of the most
infamous streets in the nation: Bourbon Street. The legendary
street home to jazz clubs, strip joints, t-shirt shops, discotheques,
tattoo parlors, high class hotels, white table cloth restaurants,
and fast food stands and perhaps more bars per square foot than
anywhere. The salesmen from Cincinnati and teachers from Tacoma
are attracted and repulsed at the same time by the noise, sights,
smells, and sounds: barkers outside of questionable establishments,
enticing people to view dancers of disputed gender remove most
of their clothing, street performers on every corner, Hurricanes
and Hand Grenades and Sex on the Beach, the ubiquitous go-cups,
the home of Girls Gone Wild and daiquiris-to-go, and where college
guys from Pennsylvania and oil workers from Texas City have the
chance to learn first hand that, contrary to popular belief,
public urination is NOT legal in the City of New Orleans.
It may come as no
surprise to learn that locals tend to avoid Bourbon Street -
they can't stand the tourists.
To them, the Quarter
is more like the street parallel to Bourbon: Royal Street. It,
too, has hotels, restaurants, and lounges. But it also has art
galleries, fine furniture and antiques, jewelry and dress shops.
Bourbon Street is for the night-time; Royal Street is for the
day.
Will and Lizzy wandered
slowly down Royal Street, she with a wide-brimmed hat to keep
out the sun, and he with a sport coat over one arm. They tended
to enter almost every shop and gallery, simply enjoying the day,
the city, and each other's company. More often than not, they
held hands. A couple of times, Will was tempted to buy her something,
but he refrained, concerned over embarrassing her.
After about an hour,
they found themselves in Jackson Square, the heart of the Quarter.
They took in the artists and street performers for a bit before
Lizzy turned to the symbol of New Orleans - St. Louis Cathedral.
"Will, can
we go in for a minute?"
Nodding, they entered
the church together. Unconsciously, the two Catholics dipped
their hands in the holy water before making the sign of the cross
while facing the altar. William was looking at the various flags
of Louisiana that hung from the pillars when he noticed that
Elizabeth had walked over to the shrine to the Blessed Mother.
She lit a candle then knelt on the kneeler before the statue
of Mary, saying a silent prayer. William watched her quietly,
enchanted by this different side to her. With her dark hair,
she resembled the Madonna she knelt before. He felt a new stirring
within himself, not passion or desire, but a need to connect
with such goodness, to be worthy of her.
His thoughts dissipated
as she crossed herself again and returned to his side. "Okay,"
she said softy, "all done now."
Will knew better
than to ask what her prayer intention was, so he limited his
response to a light kiss in her hair before escorting her outside.
As they were leaving, a team of florists were bringing in a batch
of flowers and garlands for the first of several weddings that
day. Lizzy gave them a long look before giving one to Will.
He shook his head.
"You want to grab something to eat?"
~*~*~
After a lunch at
the Gumbo Shop (Lizzy got the seafood and okra while Will ordered
duck and andouille), the two of them toured the Louisiana State
Museum in the Cabildo. They then grabbed a table at Café
du Monde to enjoy an afternoon snack of beignet and coffee. Will
noticed that Lizzy was quiet after their visit to St. Louis,
but he resisted questioning her, trusting her to talk when she
felt comfortable.
His patience, however,
was at an end. He was fighting not to begin when Lizzy grasped
his hand.
"Will, I want
you to know I love you."
"Lizzy!"
He knew something was wrong. He kissed her hand and assured her
of his equal affection. "What's troubling you?" When
she hesitated, he continued, "Are you regretting…last
night?"
"No! I just
don't want you to think…I'm not the kind of person to…just…"
"Shush, my
love. I don't think anything of the sort. I only feel incredibly
blessed that you are in my life." He lowered his voice.
"Last night was magical. But I don't have any expectations
regarding that. The only expectation I have is to love you for
the rest of my days. My only wish is to make you happy. How can
I do that?"
She smiled at him,
her eyes watering. "I don't deserve you."
"Elizabeth.
You deserve way better than me."
"You're all
I want, Will."
"Then you're
easy…" He blanched at his faux pas. "Oh - I didn't
mean it that way! Lizzy, I'm sorry…!"
Elizabeth's initial
shocked expression gave way to a giggle. "You're cute when
you grovel."
"I've gotten
good at it," he moaned. "What a stupid thing to say!"
"That's okay;
I know what you meant."
"So, do you
feel better?"
"A little."
She looked around, still holding his hand, as she steeled herself.
I have to tell him. "Will, there was a reason I asked
to go into the church. Have I ever told you about my family?"
"Not really.
I know you're from Chackbay, and you have four sisters - Jane
and three others."
She nodded. "Mary
is a school teacher in Thibodaux. She has her own place. Kit
lives at home. She's studying to be a beautician."
He nodded.
"It's my youngest
sister, Lydia. She ran away from home."
"When did this
happen?"
"Over a year
ago."
"Have the police
been able to find her?"
She shook her head.
"No. You see, Lydia's eighteen now, and…and she's not
really missing."
Will frowned. Why
do I feel this is going to be bad?
"She left to
move in with…with Greg Wickham."
"The hell you
say!" Lizzy grasped his hand more firmly as William fought
to gain control of himself. "Wickham! Shit! How did that
happen?"
"I don't know.
They met at some party, Kit says. She didn't know who he was…or
what he was."
"Crap! We've
got to get her out of there!"
"Will! It's
okay - she left him."
"She did?"
"Yes. She called
and told us that she found out what Greg did for money. I'm sure
she…participated a bit, but she told Kit that the really
heavy stuff scared her. So she moved out."
William exhaled
loudly as he relaxed. "So where is she now?"
"We don't know.
She didn't tell Kit what her plans were. She only said she couldn't
go home again."
"Oh, Lizzy,
I'm so sorry. The idea of Wickham taking advantage of another
young girl…it just burns me up." He thought for a moment.
"Do you want me to make some calls?"
"Will, that's
not the reason I told you. We're worried sick about Lydia, but
she's got to make up her own mind when to come home. I just wanted
you to know. We shouldn't have any secrets."
"You were saying
a prayer for Lydia."
She nodded. And
a prayer of thanksgiving for second chances. "Are you
okay?"
"Me? You're
asking about me?"
"I just wanted
you to know what you were getting yourself into… With all
this baggage…"
"Hah!"
Elizabeth started
at him. That was not the reaction she expected.
"Baggage,"
William said almost to himself. He looked at her. "You're
not the only one with baggage." He looked around the restaurant.
"Can we go for a walk?"
They left the café
and ascended the steps leading to the Moonwalk, a riverside walkway
opposite the square. There were a few people on it, but William
found a spot that offered some privacy. He took her hand and
stared out as the Mississippi River flowed past, ships moving
up and down the waterway.
"Wickham keeps
turning up like a bad penny," he began. "Three years
ago, he was stalking my sister, Gina."
"Oh, no!"
cried Lizzy.
"Yeah. She
was a senior at Sacred Heart," he said, referring to an
all-girls Catholic academy on St. Charles Avenue. "One day,
about a month after I came back from London, I went by to pick
her up instead of letting her ride the streetcar to the condo.
She was waving at this guy in a red Camero across the street.
I look, expecting to see some boy from De La Salle or Jesuit
and instead see that drug-dealing asshole, Greg Wickham. You
know, that SOB's driving the same car he did back when."
He grunted. "He saw me, too. He peeled out of there like
he was in a NASCAR race. I chose to pick up Gina rather than
chase the guy, but when we got home, I had my cousin, Richard,
come over. Did you ever meet him - officer with the NOPD?"
She shook her head.
"He's a captain
at the 3rd District now. We explained who Wickham was - really
scared Gina - and got her to tell us how she knew him."
He sighed. "She kept it a secret from me. They met at a
football game. I guess he was scouting around for some fresh
meat, or delivering to a customer - who knows? Anyhow, once she
was introduced to him, he pours on the charm. Really gets to
her. She swears it was all innocent - they only met at games
- god, I hope that's true. She admitted he had been putting some
pressure on her to…you know…"
Lizzy whimpered.
"We got her
a bodyguard. The school didn't like it, but a donation helped
change their mind. Richard had the force keep an eye out for
Wickham, but he never turned up. Either he went to ground somewhere
or he left town for awhile. God, Lizzy…I almost lost my
sister to that creep."
"But you didn't,
Will," she squeezed his hand. "You saved her."
"But if I had
taken her to the games like she wanted, this never would have
happened! But no, I was too busy. She was hurt, Lizzy. Scared.
The rest of her senior year was hell! She never went to her prom
- never met a boy. It was awful for her.
"And now I
know where he went. He ended up in Thibodaux. How he met your
sister, I have no idea. He had no idea of my interest in you.
Just bad luck," Will was saying. "It's like my fate
is to be haunted by that bastard. Payback, I guess - after all,
it's my fault."
"Will…"
"If I had done
the right thing, turned in that bastard back in college, then
maybe Gina or Lydia…"
"William Darcy,
shut up!" Lizzy cried.
Will looked in shock
at her.
"I am so sick
of this! Will you ever understand that not everything is your
fault?"
He stared at her
with no expression on his face. Elizabeth recognized it for what
it was - he had retreated into his mask of inscrutability as
was his wont when he was agitated.
All right, this
will be either very good or very bad, but maybe this is what
he needs me for, Lizzy
thought.
"William, please,
you must see that sometimes…things just happen." She
took a breath. "Like what happened to your father. It was
terrible. I felt so bad for you. But, darling, you survived.
The company your father built - it survived. Gina is still here
- she survived. And it's all because of you. You've done so much,
and I know you - there is so much you will do in the future.
Good things. Darling," she touched his face, "I want
to see you do those wonderful things. But you can't - you won't
- if you keep beating yourself up over things you have no control
over."
"But Wickham…your
sister…"
"William, do
we have to go over this? All right. Marianne decided not
to press charges back in college, not you. Gina decided
to be deceptive and meet an older man behind your back, not you.
Lydia decided to run away from home, not you. Yes, love,
you tried to help Mari and you did save your sister, but there
is only so much you can do." She chanced a smile. "Even
you."
William stared a
hole in his shoes. The moment dragged on. Lizzy could hear the
horn of the Canal Street Ferry pulling into Algiers Point. Finally,
he sighed.
"Even me, huh?"
Elizabeth did not
realize right away that he was teasing her, but his small grin
gave it away. "Oh, baby, you know you're my Superman."
She hugged him tight.
"You just keep
me straight, Lizzy, and maybe I can leap tall buildings with
a single bound."
"Okay."
She kissed his cheek. "How is Gina now?"
"Better. Going
away to college was good for her. Nobody at Auburn knows who
she is. She has made some good friends and has found a place
there. We're in touch all the time, and she comes home as often
as she can. It's good - if I can keep the Wickhams of the world
away from her."
"I know you
want to, but Will, she's got to learn to fend for herself. That's
what college is for. Besides, doesn't she know you're there for
her if she needs you?"
"Yes, she knows.
You're right, Lizzy. But, it's going to be hard."
She squeezed his
hands. "You can do it."
"If you're
with me."
Elizabeth looked
out on the river, gathering her thoughts. "Will, I don't
know where this is going, but…I want to be there with you."
"I love you."
"And you keep
saying that, buster. Well, c'mon, you said we would stop by the
Michalopoulos gallery."
~*~*~
The food in New
Orleans is like nowhere else in the world. Millions of visitors
to the city and the state want to find out first hand what this
Cajun/Creole craze is all about. After a few days, they learn
that everything they thought they knew was wrong.
Thanks to the success
of chiefs like Paul Prudhomme, Emeril Lagasse and John Folse,
eateries across America have been adding "Cajun" dishes
to their menus. Unfortunately, most of these cooks think that
all they have to do is add lots of hot sauce or (shudder) pepper
jack cheese to something and voila - you've got Cajun. What you
really have is very bad Cajun.
Ten minutes in Louisiana
tells you what reality is. Cajun and Creole are two very different
things. Cajun is the cooking of the county; the one-pot dishes
the people on the farms and in the swamps made out of the ingredients
close at hand. Jambalaya, sauce piquante, boudin, étouffée
and gumbos. Hundreds of styles of gumbos. If you ate in fifty
restaurants and had gumbo in each one, each would be different
and each would be delightful.
New Orleans is the
birthplace of city eating - Creole cooking. Based on the intricate
sauces of French cooking, trained chiefs and black cooks invented
dishes like Shrimp Creole, Red Beans and Rice, Chicken Bonne
Femme, Eggs Sardou, Chicken Pontalba, and Grillades and Grits.
Both styles were
greatly influenced by outsiders who moved to Louisiana. Slaves
from the Caribbean brought spices and okra. The Germans brought
sausages. The Spanish, their rice. The English, their sandwiches.
The Italians, their tomatoes and pasta. The Asians, their stir-frying.
Cajun and Creole dishes are not set in stone; they continue to
evolve and grow, incorporating the best of the ingredients and
techniques from the new citizens and blending it like a gumbo,
creating the great American Cuisine.
Many tourists, following
the truism of most cities, eat mainly in their hotel's restaurant.
Many others will flock to the places designed for visitors: Mulate's,
Copeland's, The Court of Two Sisters, and others. The fearful
will stick to the familiar national chains - a tragedy. But the
adventurous will try the best that the city offers: Mother's
Poor Boys, Commander's Palace, Acme Oyster House, Broussard's,
Emeril's, Pascal's Manale, Jacques-Imo's, K-Paul's, Bayona, and
others too numerous to list.
But to truly understand
Creole cooking, one should forgo for at least one meal these
magnificent purveyors of neo-Creole and patronize one of the
remaining standard bearers of the style. A place where you can
eat exactly what your grandparents could have eaten fifty years
before. Their mighty names: Antoine's. Tujague's. Arnaud's.
Brennan's. And the restaurant Will and Lizzy entered for
an early Saturday dinner - Galatoire's.
This was the reason
Will took a jacket with him on a warm April afternoon. Galatoire's
requires that gentlemen wear a jacket after six p.m. Many locals
would never walk into the place without one, no matter what the
time, and William was one of them, so he was prepared at 4:30.
Stationed near the door was a coat rack of several waiters' jackets
of varying sizes - it was for the unwary tourist unaware of this
throwback to a more civilized time.
Until recently,
Galatoire's did not take reservations, and they still did not
for the main room downstairs. But by going early, Will knew there
would be no line for a table. Besides, this was when all the
regulars ate, and they ate downstairs.
"Good afternoon,
Mr. Darcy," said the waiter, a man renowned for remembering
the names of his regular customers, even if they only came in
four times a year.
"Hello, Pierre.
Jack Daniels on the rocks, please. What do you want, Elizabeth?"
"I think a
white wine."
"We have an
excellent Pinot Gris just in, ma'am," Pierre said as he
indicated the wine list, "and a superb Pouilly-Fuissé."
"The Pinot
Gris."
"I think light
would be good, today," reflected William. "Why don't
you get us a bottle of the Pinot Gris?"
"Very good,
sir. Jack Daniels rocks and a bottle of Pinot Gris." Pierre
left for the drinks; he had not taken a single note.
Lizzy and Will perused
their menus in companionable silence until Pierre returned. He
went through the entire ceremony of presenting the bottle, uncorking
it, giving Will the cork and pouring a taste. Will tried the
wine and judged it excellent. Pierre then filled Elizabeth's
glass, but did not top off Will's before placing the wine in
the chiller. Lizzy was impressed - Pierre had remembered Will
had a cocktail. Lizzy ordered the Oysters en Brochette and the
Crabmeat Maison. Will looked up at Pierre. "How's the Pompano?"
Pierre screwed up
his face in thought. "Get the trout," he advised.
"Okay,"
Will grinned. "Trout Amandine. I'll have the Shrimp Remoulade,
too." Pierre nodded and left. Once he was safely out of
range, Lizzy let go of the giggle she had suppressed.
"Will, that
look on his face! That was so funny!"
"Yeah, it pays
to be a regular, or a local. He's been working here for twenty
years, and his dad before that." He picked up his drink.
"Here's to you."
"No,"
she said, her eyes sparkling, "to us."
Will felt a wonderful
lurch in his gut. I could get used to that look. "To
us."
William dug into
his Shrimp Remoulade almost as soon as it hit the table. Cold
boiled shrimp nestled on a bed of lettuce, the shrimp were coated
with Galatoire's version of remoulade sauce. The Creole mustard
and other spices in the slightly pink concoction gave a hit much
like good horseradish. William's eyes watered in delight. Lizzy
delicately consumed her skewers of fried oysters laced with bacon,
drizzled with New Orleans style meuniere sauce. It was hard to
decide who was happier.
Trout Amandine was
two flash-fried filets of salt-water fish, in this case speckled
trout, covered in the same just-on-this-side-of-being-burnt meuniere
sauce with toasted almonds. The Crabmeat Maison was a large ramekin
of blue crab folded in a cream sauce, served with toast points.
Each took pity on the other and shared, having fun feeding each
other. Strong chicory coffee and Crepes Maison finished the meal.
Sipping the coffee,
Will noticed that it was after six, and a conventioneer was struggling
to put on one of the jackets by the door. An elderly couple -
in their seventies, he figured - were just completing their dinner.
The seersucker suited man, nattily dressed with his bow tie,
rose to help his wife out of her chair. They walked out the restaurant,
he holding her hand with his right and his Panama straw hat in
his left.
He was brought out
of his revere by Elizabeth's sigh. He noticed that she had been
regarding the same couple. She glanced at him and blushed.
"What are you
thinking?" he asked.
"Oh, don't
ask me…it's too embarrassing."
"C'mon - tell
me."
"I was just
thinking…that couple. Will that be us in forty years?"
"Nah. You'll
be a lot cuter."
"You're impossible."
"Ready to go?"
She nodded and got
her things, the bill having been placed on Darcy's tab - a courtesy
for the regulars. Leaving the restaurant, they stepped onto Bourbon
Street as it ramped up to full night-time glory. Tourists were
filling the street and barkers were crying their same old cries.
Behind them, the line began forming at Galatoire's front door.
"What do you
want to do?" asked Will into Lizzy's ear. "Want to
go to Chat Noir and catch Mari's performance?"
"Not this time,
Will," she begged off. "Maybe a little jazz before
we call it a night?"
"You got it.
There ought to be something playing up the street."
Hand-in-hand, the
lovers set off to enjoy what the city had to offer.
~*~*~
That night Elizabeth
lay in her lover's arm, reveling in his quiet strength. They
had shared much that day, and while Lizzy was no romantic fool
- she knew there was more work to do to undo the damage they
had done to one another so many years before - she knew that
this day was the beginning of their true life together. Their
coupling after returning to William's condo was a reaffirmation
of their new commitment.
Lizzy considered
the events of that day. For her to share her shame over Lydia's
disappearance was a great indication of her trust in Will, and
he did not disappoint. Rather than being disgusted by his lover's
family, he was determined to set things right. His concern was
for her, not his own pride.
Of course, she knew
that it would be her job to remind Will that he was not a knight
in shining armor. He could not save everyone from their own foolish
choices. But it was reassuring that he felt that way, she had
to admit to herself.
She absently stroked
his chest as she lay between sleep and wakefulness. Lizzy was
astonished how quickly she could become comfortable with this
intimacy. She had slept so well last night, knowing he was there,
and she looked forward to seeing him first in the morning. That
was the only thing good about the next day, for he was to leave.
She would not see him again until Tuesday.
What is wrong
with me? One night with him and I'm acting like a love-struck
teenager?! I'll see him on Tuesday… But I'll miss him so.
"What's wrong,
beautiful?"
"Will! I didn't
know you were awake. I'm sorry…"
"Don't be…I
wasn't sleeping. What's troubling you?"
"Just thinking
about…things…"
"Care to share
what these 'things' are?"
"Nothing bad,
really."
He rolled on his
side closest to her. "If it's nothing bad, then you should
be able to tell me, Lizzy."
"Can't you
take 'no' for an answer?" She was teasing him, but she almost
instantly regretted her words.
He rolled away.
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry."
"Oh, Will!
Thank god you don't take 'no' for an answer!" She firmly
embraced him. "I'm so, so, so stupid!" Will stroked
the back of her head. "What I was thinking of…it's
silly, really." Will waited patently. "I've gotten
used to you, is all."
"You mean…here?"
"Yeah. You're
comfortable."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
"So, are you
trying to say you're going to miss me while I'm gone?"
"Yes,"
she admitted in a low voice.
Will looked upon
her in wonderment. Already? "I'm sorry, hon. I wish
I didn't need to go."
"Will, I understand
that you need to. It's your job - jetting off to far-away places
for high-end meetings and such. I…If we are going to…continue
on…" Embarrassed, she buried her face in his chest.
"Don't look at me in that way!"
"What way?"
"That 'What-the-hell-is-she-talking-about'
way!"
"I'm not looking
at you in that way."
"Sure you're
not!" She sighed. "Will - this is for real, right?"
"I think
so," he said with fervor.
She squeezed him
hard. "Me, too. So…I'll just have to get used to this."
"Maybe sometimes
you can come with me."
"Yeah, right.
I gotta work, buster." She then looked up. "Will, you're
not suggesting…?" I move in with you and quit my
job?
"I'm suggesting
nothing. Just know that the offer is there, okay? No 'private
trips,' no 'you'll get bored, so just stay home.' I promise.
You want to come with me, anytime, just say the word."
He didn't really
answer her question, but what he did say warmed her heart. Still,
she asked, "What about my job?"
Marry me and
quit! "You get
vacation time, right?"
"It's not like
I can leave at the drop of a hat, Will."
"Not every
time, but I can't believe they're that big a stickler on taking
time off."
Lizzy was forced
to agree. If there wasn't any board meeting or big event, it
was not unusual to announce taking some "private days"
with only a week's notice as long as it didn't become a habit.
"Maybe next time, okay?"
"Sure."
He kissed the top of her head. "I'll make it up to you.
The Zurich Classic is next weekend. Do you want to go?"
"I forgot how
big a golf fan you are."
"They're playing
it for the first time at the new PGA of Louisiana at Avondale.
It's a monster." He warmed into his subject. "We can
bring Chuck and Jane. It's no trouble. I've got all the corporate
passes we'll ever need. DGS has a tent, food, drinks…"
"I thought
that was for your corporate clients."
"It is. I want
you to be there."
Lizzy blinked. "You
want me to help entertain the customers?"
"Not really,
it's a social event. Spouses are invited…"
"I don't think
I qualify for that!" she laughed. "But…darling,
what am I to you?"
Will would have
gotten upset if Lizzy hadn't been caressing his chest. "That's
a good question." He decided to tease. "I guess 'my
main squeeze' or 'rockin' babe' won't fly, huh?"
Elizabeth smiled.
"Not in public, stud."
"We're not
married so you can't be 'my old lady.'"
"You better
never call me that, or 'ball-&-chain,' buster!" she
cried, before she realized that she admitted she had thought
of a future with him that involved a change of her name.
Her slip of the
tongue did not go by unnoticed by her lover, but he withheld
comment. It was far too soon, and he had pledged to let her set
the pace of their relationship. "I hate the term 'significant
other,' don't you?"
"Yuck!"
"And 'lover'
is too much information."
"Right."
"Then I guess
- as old fashioned as it is - you're my girlfriend. Is that okay?"
William Darcy's
girlfriend! "Yes,"
she smiled. Unfortunately, "My Boyfriend's Back" started
going through her head. Stop it!
A pause. "Will?"
"Yeah?"
Elizabeth was nervous.
"Umm…my family in Chackbay… We have a family crawfish
boil every Memorial Day weekend. It's on May 28th. I would love
it if you would come with me."
"Meet the folks?
Sure."
Lizzy let go of
the breath she did not realize she had been holding.
~*~*~
The next morning,
Elizabeth's CR-V pulled up to the curb next to the Jet Blue terminal
at Louis Armstrong International Airport. Will opened his passenger
side door and moved to the back of the compact SUV, opening the
hatch and retrieving his baggage. By the time he yanked his suitcase
and laptop briefcase out of the car, Lizzy was standing beside
him.
"Fly safe,"
she murmured into his shoulder as they embraced.
"I'll be back
before you know it."
"I hate this
- I'm missing you already."
Will pulled back
and looked into her face. "I guess this is what love's all
about, sweetie." He gave her a kiss. "I'll call your
cell after I'm settled in the hotel."
"Okay. I love
you."
"I love you,
too. See you Tuesday."
Lizzy stood beside
her car, horns honking, as Will entered the terminal. With an
"All right, already!" she climbed into the Honda and
sped off for Metairie.
~*~*~
James Michalopoulos
- http://www.michalopoulos.com/
George Rodrigue - http://www.georgerodrigue.com/
Jim Tweedy - http://www.terigalleries.com/tweedy3.shtml
Galatoire's Restaurant
- http://www.galatoires.com/
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