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Chapter 40
May 2005
The next few days
passed without incident. When Lizzy picked Will up at the airport
on Tuesday, she surprised him with reservations at Emeril's.
It may have not been the great table Will had promised her months
before, but the meal and the company was of such quality that
neither minded. They skipped the banana cream pie for a quick
return to the condo.
Lizzy was nervous
about what the weekend held. She was, in effect, to play hostess
for DGS at the company tent at the Zurich Classic. Her boss,
Carl Eden, had no reservations when she admitted that she was
now dating Darcy and told him of her plans. He thought the world
of the young corporate titan and considered it a wonderful opportunity
to promote EDNO at the tournament.
Once Lizzy got over
the fact that she was dressed more as a corporate spouse than
a high-powered business woman, she enjoyed working the DGS guests,
especially when she could tag-team with Will. He was usually
quiet and reserved, but in this environment, engaged with people
he knew or wanted to know better, he was utterly charming. They
made a good team, being able to discuss business and golf with
equal ease. But her favorite times were when she and Will would
take a break and sit, holding hands, watching the action on the
18th green from the reserved bleachers.
Lizzy and Will were
hardly out of each other's sight for the rest of the month. They
would have dinner almost every night, mostly either at his place
or hers, and lunch at least twice a week. Of course, they engaged
in the more physical aspects of courtship that new lovers enjoy,
but what they did mostly was talk. They had five years of catching
up to do, and they both felt that now was the time to do it.
They talked for
hours and hours about everything - their families, their childhoods,
their dreams, and their disappointments. They spent a lot of
time discussing what had happened in the last five years. Lizzy
told him about the men she had dated, and found that her boyfriend
had a slight jealous streak. She was amused that a man who had
so much going for him would be envious of anybody, but she also
took note of this personality quirk of her beloved and told herself
never to tease again him about it. She had her own jealousy issues
to deal with, after all.
She had teasingly
demanded that Will fess up to what he had been doing since Tulane,
and to her surprise, she disliked the answer. She did not like
hearing about all the women who had thrown themselves at her
boyfriend, no matter how humorously he told the tales. It was
unfair, she knew, but in her mind, all those bimbos resembled
Carrie Bingley. She knew Carrie was married to John Buford, and
happily, too, if Jane's reports were accurate. Still, Lizzy found
it hard to forget the woman's dogged pursuit of Will back in
college, and a bit of her darker side wondered if Carrie hadn't,
if only a little bit, regretted her choice.
Who wouldn't
- this is William Darcy, after all! Her mind sometimes reeled with the knowledge
she had won his affections.
It was hard for
Elizabeth to believe, but apparently William had been pining
for her almost as long as she had for him. Once he got over his
resentment, he told her, his only feelings were of regret over
lost opportunities. If he was slightly smothering in his affection
for her, Lizzy realized it was only because the man could hardly
believe his good fortune. Why he thought she was such a great
catch baffled her, but she was pleased by it all the same. She
understood that only time and experience would prove theirs was
a relationship built for the ages. So Lizzy reassured Will, believing
that he would learn to trust in their love and commitment as
the months rolled on.
~*~*~
John Buford returned
home to find his wife, son, and dog awaiting him in the kitchen.
John picked up his squealing and wiggling three-year-old Trey
and kissed him, while Max sat and whined. The dog got his cropped
ears rubbed after Trey was set down again. John then turned to
his wife.
"Hello, baby,"
he crooned into her ear as he embraced her from behind.
"Now you say
hello," Carrie grumbled as she stirred a pot on the stove.
John chuckled as
his hands caressed her pregnant belly. "Saved the best for
last. Have I told you how sexy you look?"
"Sexy - yeah,
right. I'm fat."
"You're not
fat, Carrie - heck, you're only three months along."
"Says you."
She sighed. "I've got to pull out the maternity clothes
already."
"So what? It's
still your incredible body." His hands moved up. "Besides,
there are advantages to your condition. These are definitely
larger, that's for sure."
"Stop it -
those aren't for you," she pretended to be offended. "They're
for the baby."
"He won't be
using them for awhile."
"Isn't this
how I got into this condition in the first place? You sweet talkin'
me?"
He nibbled her neck.
"You didn't complain at the time."
"Enough, Johnny."
She hid the smile on her face. Her blasted husband could always
get her out of a foul mood anytime he wanted. "Chop up some
parsley for me?"
"Sure."
Buford got some parsley out of the fridge and retrieved his favorite
chef's knife. After placing it down on the chopping board, he
picked up Trey and sat him on one of the stools by the kitchen
island. "Now, watch a master at work, son," he advised
the boy.
Carrie glanced over.
"He should be in his booster seat, John."
"It's only
for a minute," he said. "You'll stay still, all right?"
he asked Trey.
"Yes, Daddy,"
his son assured him.
With practiced stokes,
Buford expertly minced the parsley, scooped up the herb and dropped
it into Carrie's mushroom-and-meat spaghetti sauce. Carrie had
learned to be an adequate cook, but she couldn't match her husband's
knife skills. Carrie put the sauce on low and placed the pasta
into the large pot of boiling water. She then gave her Johnny
the welcome home kiss he wanted.
Fifteen minutes
later the little family was seated at the table, Carrie and Buford
eating her cooking, Trey, properly in his booster seat, having
Spaghetti-Os, and Max taking his usual place at his master's
feet. "Next year, son," Buford said, "you'll be
big enough for Mommy's special sauce."
Carrie blushed.
Special sauce, ha! Jarred spaghetti sauce, hamburger meat,
and sliced mushrooms - real gourmet. She chewed her food.
"Mom called."
"Oh, boy. What
happened now?" Buford knew Carrie was upset for a reason.
Carrie glanced at
Trey. She couldn't speak openly in front of him. "Catherine,"
she said, instead of Mother or Grandmother, "was full of
advice."
Buford caught on.
"Nothing new about that. What did Catherine say this
time?"
"She said I'm
spending too much time at work, that…umm…" her
eyes shifted notably towards Trey, "someone is spending
too much time with others, instead of home, where he belongs."
Buford's eyes darkened
at his mother-in-law's hypocrisy. Catherine Bingley had been
a working mother, but now that she was a woman of leisure, she
felt free to inform her only daughter that her life choices were
endangering her grandson. Of course, Buford was her target as
well - the unspoken comment was that he wasn't supporting his
family to the extent that Carrie could stay at home. That was
ridiculous - Buford had made partner the year after he got back
from the war. That Carrie enjoyed her work never entered into
Catherine's argument. Still, he knew that Carrie, like most working
mothers, felt guilt over working and placing their children in
daycare, and Carrie was doubly vulnerable due to her pregnancy.
Damn that mean
bitch, anyway! Buford
almost spit out that if Catherine was so concerned over who was
taking care of her grandson, she could volunteer to take him,
if only for a couple days of the week. However, as neither parent
would wish that on poor Trey, he dismissed that thought.
Instead he said,
"I'm glad Catherine has become such an expert in child-rearing.
When does her book come out?"
"The twelfth
of never."
"Is that right
after hell freezes over?"
"Johnny!"
"Oops, sorry.
Don't pay attention to that, Son."
"Daddy, you're
silly," Trey giggled.
"That's me,"
he replied with a grin and a wink to his wife. As expected, Carrie
smiled as the tension dissipated.
Later, Buford was
sprawled on the couch, trying to review a brief while Carrie
sat on the floor and played with Trey, Max curled up next to
her. The boxer knew the difference between his toys and Trey's,
so he just watched the boy with affection. Buford couldn't concentrate,
so he watched the interaction between mother and child, his fingers
idly playing with Carrie's hair. He could not imagine anything
more peaceful. Of course, looking down his wife's top at the
bounty contained within didn't hurt.
Soon, the two of
them put Trey to bed. Buford then took Max out into the fenced
backyard for a romp while Carrie cleaned the kitchen. Another
hour later found Max comfortably in his dog crate in the laundry
room and the couple preparing for bed. Johnny took Carrie in
his arms as they snuggled together.
"Don't let
Catherine get to you, babe," he advised.
"I try not
to, but she's my mother. She can really push my buttons."
"I know. Look,
I'm here this time. Use me, lean on me, vent at me. Hell, want
me to talk to her?"
"No. Your relationship
with her is bad as it is. Making it worse won't make me feel
better."
"Whatever you
say," he said before he kissed her.
The first time Carrie
was pregnant was right after 9/11. Buford had been sent with
his National Guard unit to Afghanistan. Her fears for her husband's
safety were multiplied by the discovery that she was carrying
their first child two weeks after he shipped out. For the next
nine months, except for the welcome attention of Jane and the
unwelcome attention of her mother, Carrie dealt with the joys,
fears, and anxiety of a first-time mother alone. Her calls and
emails to her husband did little to ease her desire for his presence.
Thankfully, Jane was with her during the last couple of weeks
and was able to drive her to the hospital when her time came.
The babe was healthy, but it meant little to Catherine. As happy
as she was that little John III was here, she never forgave Carrie
for not staying with her instead.
Four more months
would pass before John and the remainder of his people returned
from Afghanistan. Carrie had never before felt the intense emotions
that ran through her when she saw John hold his son for the first
time. She thought her heart would burst with joy. John proved
to be a most involved father and tender husband. The last two
and a half years were the happiest Carrie had ever known. Knowing
that John would be there for his second child just added to her
happiness. If only her mother wasn't like her mother.
Buford nibbled on
her lips as his free hand caressed her growing bulge.
Carrie giggled.
"You like doing that," she observed.
"Well, yeah.
I missed the first time."
"I'm glad you're
here now." She placed her hands atop his.
"Have I told
you that you're sexy?"
"Yes, you have,
and I don't believe you any more now than I did at dinner. I'm
a whale!"
"You're way
too critical of yourself. You're gorgeous, Carrie." He looked
her in the eye. "I see you, with that certain glow, knowing
my child is inside you. Lord above, I just want to worship you,
to let you know just a little of how I'm feeling right now. How
proud I am. How thankful I am. How much I love and want you."
His heartfelt admission
caused her eyes to water, but she couldn't resist one last tease.
"You're just turned on 'cause my tits are so big."
He smiled. "That
they are. But, you doubt me? Mrs. Buford, you'll have to excuse
me. I've got work to do."
And so he did. By
the time he completed his labors, Mrs. Buford felt very worshiped
indeed.
~*~*~
SHRIMPS 4 SALE
LIVE CRAB
SWEET CORN
Lizzy had to giggle
at the familiar sign as Will's car passed by the roadside vender
selling seafood and vegetables from the back of a pick-up on
LA Highway 1 along Bayou Lafourche. The intentional misspelling
of the words was always an attention getter. It was a sure sign
that she was getting close to home.
Home, she thought. I'm bringing William
home to meet the parents. I guess the movies are right, for once.
I'm so nervous I can barely sit straight. Lord, I hope this goes
okay.
Will broke into
her reverie. "You're awfully quiet, honey. You feeling okay?"
"I'm fine -
fine."
He glanced at her.
"Don't worry. I'm sure everything will go great." They
were headed to the annual Memorial weekend crawfish boil at the
Boudreaux house. All of Lizzy's immediate family would be there.
It was Will's first trip to the Chackbay homestead.
"I'm not worried,"
Lizzy claimed.
"Concerned,
then."
"I just want
everything to go well today."
"It will."
You haven't met
my folks. "I'm
sure it will."
They spent the next
fifteen minutes in a comfortable silence, the bayou on one side
of the road and the vast sugar cane fields behind the houses
on the other. Once they reached Thibodaux, Lizzy gave Will the
directions to her home. They turned onto LA 20 and drove out
of the city into the cane fields and swamps. For a couple of
miles, the highway was bordered by imposing cypress trees and
water, before opening up to a hamlet hugging the winding road.
"Well, here
we are," Lizzy announced. "Welcome to downtown Chackbay."
Will chuckled at
the jest. Chackbay was an unincorporated ribbon of houses and
shops, hard against the highway. Dominating the scene was Our
Lady of Prompt Succor Catholic Church at the intersection of
Highway 20 and 304, the center of the community. As they drove
past the church, both of them unconsciously crossed themselves.
A half mile down the road, Lizzy pointed to a house on the left.
"There it is.
The famous Boudreaux estate."
Will beheld a one-and-a-half
story brick house, in the A. Hays Town style: hip roof, "old-style"
red brick, pale yellow plaster entrance to cypress French doors,
and fully operational Creole shutters in dark green. Town, a
Lafayette native and graduate of Tulane who had died that January
at the age of 101, was a long-time Baton Rouge architect that
had revolutionized the Louisiana house. Influenced by both the
Creole cottage and French Provencal estate house, he invented
a style of his own, now copied throughout the Gulf South. He
was a notable early practitioner of sustainable design through
his use of salvaged materials in new buildings, particularly
reused bricks and virgin tidewater cypress. The Boudreaux home
wasn't an original Town design, but obviously well done by one
of his numerous students. It looked like it belonged on
the lot, the timelessness of the design shining through.
"Nice,"
Will commented as he turned into the driveway, threading his
way between the Bingleys' van and a large pick-up truck.
"I see Mary
and Bubba are here," Lizzy mentioned as she opened her door.
As Will exited the
BMW, he could see two late-model Cadillac sedans parked in the
opened two-car garage. The couple had taken only a few steps
towards the front door when it was thrown open and three women
hurried out.
"LIZZY!"
cried a middle-aged lady. "You're here at last! Oh, give
me a hug!"
Will's girlfriend
disappeared as the woman engulfed her in a bear hug, the two
young ladies standing behind with smiles dancing on their faces.
The woman was a bit shorter than Lizzy, with short blonde hair.
She had on a flower-print, scooped neck, sleeveless blouse over
white Capri pants. Numerous bracelets dangled from her wrists.
The woman released
Lizzy and eyed Will with undisguised excitement. "And who
is this handsome man? As if I didn't know!"
"Mom,"
Lizzy managed, vacillating between amusement and mortification,
"this is Will Darcy, my boyfriend. Will, this is…"
Before Lizzy could
finish, Will was attacked himself. "Oh, I'm so glad to meet
you at last!" Mrs. Boudreaux cried as she embraced him.
"Lizzy," she said as she released him, "he's a
strong one, isn't he? And so good looking! You've done well for
yourself!"
Lizzy turned beet-red,
but Will acted unfazed. "Mrs. Boudreaux, I'd say I'm the
lucky one. I'm glad to meet you, too."
"Oh, none of this 'Mrs. Boudreaux' stuff," she waved her hand. "Call me Franny."
"All right, Miz Franny."
She turned to the
other ladies. "And these are my daughters, Mary and Kit."
Will shook hands
with both. Mary wore black-rimmed cat-eye glasses. She had black
hair and wore an intelligent but slightly sardonic expression.
She was dressed in a t-shirt that proclaimed "Teachers
know how to do it" over shorts. A small diamond ring
adorned her left hand. Kit, for her part, was as blonde as Jane
and looked young for her age with her tight tank-top and low-rider
jeans. She resembled her mother.
"Wow, is that
your car?" cried Kit. "That's SO bitchin'!"
"Kit - watch your language!" Franny exclaimed. "Children these days! Come in, come in!"
The group walked
into the house. The foyer opened into the front living room,
filled with unremarkable antique reproduction furniture over
a pale Oriental rug and wooden floor. The room was lit by the
lamps and chandelier because the curtains were closed.
"We spend most
of our time in the den in back," said Kit.
"Yes," said Franny, "it's so warm in here. I told T.B. that we need to get a bigger air conditioning unit."
"Mom, Will
doesn't need to know that," said Lizzy.
Will hid his smile.
Many people kept the curtains drawn in South Louisiana. They
always claimed it was because of the sun. But really it was because
of the prying eyes of the neighbors. Folks knew people were always
trying to see into the house, to find out your business, for
it was the common sport of Cajun country. Cajuns were notoriously
noisy.
As he moved into the room, he noticed that most of the pictures on the wall were family photos and graduation portraits. Franny guided Will to a particular grouping.
"I think you'd
be interested in this one, Will," she said slyly.
Lizzy groaned softly
and tugged at his arm, but Will leaned forward to inspect the
center picture. It was Elizabeth's high school senior portrait,
in the traditional off-the-shoulder stole with pearls.
"I hated that
hair style," Lizzy grumbled before she gasped. "Mom!
What is that doing here?"
Franny blanched, and Will saw everyone's attention was centered upon another photo: Lizzy in a prom dress next to a long-haired boy.
Franny mumbled her apologies and removed the picture. "Oh, just an old photo. No need to have that here!"
Will looked at an
angry and embarrassed Elizabeth. The reason then hit him: That
was the guy Lizzy told him about - her boyfriend from high school
that cheated on her during her first year at Loyola. He said
nothing, only squeezed her hand in understanding. Lizzy turned
and gave him a thankful smile.
The rest of the wall had three other similar groupings. Will could see that Jane, Mary, and Kit were represented. Franny noticed his perusal. "Oh, yes, I've been blessed with such beautiful girls," she sighed.
Lizzy thought the
tour was over as they began walking to the kitchen. Too late
she forgot what was awaiting them. Along the hallway was a new
grouping of pictures, one that was far more extensive than the
others. Portraits, snapshots and other photos - those of cheerleaders
and swim parties and vacations to Disney World. All had the same
brunette with the laughing eyes. There were even framed notes
and drawings.
Next to it was a
small table with a prayer candle lit and a single pink silk rose
in a crystal vase. Behind the candle were photos of a young girl
in her First Communion dress and the same girl, older, receiving
her Confirmation, flanked a terry bear, a rosary draped upon
it. It appeared to be an altar.
Lizzy's hand bit heavily into Will's, but his only response was to turn to her in astonishment. He then looked at a now tearful Franny. Mary stopped behind them, while Kit continued on to the kitchen with a groan.
"My…my baby," Franny managed, her eyes filling with tears. "My dear, dear Lydia. She disappeared, you see, over a year ago. Right after she graduated. Such a beautiful child - only Jane was lovelier."
Lizzy thought the
ground was going to open up and swallow her. Will, for his part,
remarked, "She's very pretty. I expect it's been very painful
for you."
"She prays
before it," mumbled Mary.
Will's eyes caught the pillow beneath the table. "Oh, yes," Franny confirmed. "Every day I pray to our Blessed Mother to keep my girl safe and return her to me. See?" She pulled the pillow out and demonstrated. On her knees, her eyes glued to the photos, she said, "It's very peaceful here. I feel very close to my darling child."
"Mother!"
Will helped Franny back to her feet. "I'm sure she'll come home soon, Miz Franny. Just have faith."
"Oh, I do.
Thank you, Will." She turned to her daughter. "He's
very nice, Lizzy."
Will took the opportunity
to study the center photo more carefully. He saw that Lydia resembled
Elizabeth more than any of her other sisters. There were differences,
of course. Her hair was mousy brown, rather than Lizzy's chocolate,
and the smile seemed a little vacant. But she particularly favored
Lizzy in her eyes - the same laughing, expressive, beautiful
eyes.
"Her father's eyes and my looks - just like Lizzy," Franny claimed.
"Yes,"
Will said with a smile as he took Lizzy's hand again. "I'm
a very lucky guy."
Franny dabbed her eyes and grinned. "Well, you know what they say about the mother and the daughter. I'm not a vain woman, Will, but you have to be happy to know what Lizzy's going to look like in twenty-five years!"
"MOTHER!"
Lizzy and Mary cried.
"Oh, stop it,"
she scolded her girls. "I'm sure Will isn't offended in
the least. Will, can I get you something cool to drink?"
He agreed to a beer,
and the party continued to the kitchen, Will glancing one last
time at the bizarre memorial.
~*~*~
A cold Bud in hand
- the only beer to be had in the Boudreaux house was either Budweiser
or Coors Light - Will and Lizzy left the house to meet Mr. Boudreaux.
Upon entering the backyard, they spotted Chuck and Jane playing
with their children on an enormous home-made swing set. They
waved at each other, and the couple joined their friends. After
kisses and handshakes, the four walked over to two men working
beside a table next to a large, tall, steaming pot on a portable
propane burner. The larger of the two was in an oversized bowling
shirt, but Will immediate knew from his tan, muscular arms that
this man had never set foot in an alley. The older man was wearing
the type of light blue coverall common in the oil service industry,
with white shrimp boots on his feet. Both had ball caps on and
watched the newcomers approach with interest.
"Daddy!"
cried Lizzy. "I want you to meet somebody special. Daddy,
this is Will Darcy."
"How do you
do, sir?" Will stuck out his hand.
Mr. Boudreaux stripped
off a plastic glove and took Will's hand. "I ain't no sir.
You can call me T.B., Will. Welcome to my house." He was
half a head shorter than Will. His crew-cut hair was steely gray
under his B&B Oilfield Services cap, the sideburns down to
his earlobes. The face was tanned and wrinkled from years in
the unforgiving Louisiana sun. But he did have the same expressive
eyes as Lizzy - blue and open, teasing and searching. His grip
was firm and confidant. He then kissed his daughter with affection.
"And this is
Bubba Teresina, Mary's fiancé."
"Pleased to
meet you, Will," said the gentle giant, his voice giving
away the intelligence behind the bulk.
Will noticed the
NSU cap. "You played ball for Nicholls, right?"
"Yes, sir,"
Bubba answered, pleased.
"I remember
watching you play. You were a good lineman."
"Thanks. I
remember you throwing the ball for Destrehan."
Will laughed. "That
was a long time ago!"
Bubba grinned. "My
daddy was a big Thibodaux High fan. We had to watch you take
us apart too many times."
"I understand
you're coaching for E.D. White. How's your daddy taking that?"
"He's the biggest
Cardinal fan you ever met, now!"
"What's the
outlook this year?"
Bubba grimaced.
"District's getting tougher every year, and we lost some
good players. If we win a few early, we might do okay. We'll
know more once we start pre-season."
Will noticed that
T.B. was eying him with interest. "Did you play any in college,
Will?" he asked.
"Just golf,
but I like to stay in shape."
Jane glanced at
her children. "I've got to get back to the kids, Daddy.
Coming, Lizzy?"
Lizzy looked at
Will. "You go on," said T.B. "We'll entertain
Will, here." Lizzy kissed Will on the cheek and joined her
sister at the swing set.
"Yeah,"
said Chuck. "I used to watch you guys during pre-season
in the summer. That was tough."
T.B. didn't look
at Chuck. "You didn't play ball, did you, Chuck?"
"No, I was
in the marching band."
"Yeah, I remember."
Will was surprised at the thinly disguised sarcasm in the older
man's voice.
Bubba piped in.
"Shoot, if your band practices were anything like E.D. White's,
I wonder who's got it tougher! They work those kids hard! Every
time one my players starts dogging it, I just point out the band,
sweating up a storm on the practice field and threaten to send
them over there."
Chuck laughed. "Catholic
High's band wasn't as good as E.D. White's, but we did our share
of sweating."
Will, standing close
to T.B., thought he heard him mumble, "Thought so."
Will was puzzled
by T.B.'s hostility to Chuck, but figured now was not the right
time to ask.
Chuck, however,
felt uncomfortable. "I…uhh…better go back and
help out with the kids. Unless you need me, T.B.?"
"No - Bubba,
Will, and I've got it covered."
Chuck smiled weakly
and walked back to the swing set. Bubba glanced at Will and raised
his eyebrows in sympathy.
"Yeah,"
T.B. was saying as he sliced some sausage. "I played a little
baseball in my day. Thought about going semi-pro, but I had to
pay the bills, you know? You do any fishing, Will?"
Will, having noticed
the boat and pick-up in the large building behind the house,
now saw the point of this exercise. "Yes. We have a cabin
cruiser down at Venice. We do some deep-sea fishing when we get
the chance."
T.B. nodded. "I
mainly do coastal fishing, after specks and redfish. But I like
to chase the big ones every now and then."
"I noticed
your rig," Will said. "Nice set-up."
T.B. looked up with
a proud look on his face. "Yeah, it'll do the job. Real
stable and fast, but it don't draw any water at all. I use it
for duck hunting, too. Bubba's come out with me."
"T.B.'s quite
the sportsman," observed Bubba.
Will nodded, the
pieces of the puzzle starting to come together.
"Come on, Bubba,"
said T.B. "Time to put the crawfish in." They started
moving towards a large perforated basket that was filled with
live crawfish, covered with wet burlap.
Will knew he was
being tested again. "Hang on. Let me do it, T.B."
Without waiting
for an answer, he took the other end of a strong pole Bubba had
inserted between the basket and its handle. The two of them lifted
the basket and the forty pounds of crawfish inside, before slowly
lowering it into the large pot of boiling water and spices, careful
not to allow the liquid to spill over the side. The change in
temperature brought the liquid below the boiling point. T.B.
said nothing, but dumped a large bowl filled of red potatoes,
corn on the cob, and sausage into the pot. He tossed in a few
trimmed heads of garlic for good measure and stood back, waiting
for the liquid to start boiling again.
"How long do
you boil it?" Will asked T.B.
"Seven minutes,
and then I cover it, shut off the fire, and let it soak for twenty."
"Ever throw
in any artichokes? It comes out nice."
"Have to try
that next time." The three men stood, sipping their beers,
watching the pot return to a boil. T.B. set a timer and finished
his beer.
"Want me to
grab you another one?" asked Bubba.
"Yeah, if you
don't mind. You ready for another, Will?"
This is as bad
as any fraternity.
"Sure - thanks, Bubba." The large man left to retrieve
the brews, leaving Will alone with his girlfriend's father.
"So,"
T.B. began, "what do you do?"
"I'm in the
shipping business - DGS." Will decided he was going to play
this game at his speed.
"That's Delta
Global? I can't remember all those letters."
Yeah, right. Will had dealt with Boudreaux's type
before. A self-made Cajun who appeared to be a good-old boy,
but was crafty and closed mouthed. They appeared simple, just
to see if anyone underestimated them. Will was being judged,
and T.B. was the type of man that judged men by his own standards
- by what they had in common. This type of Cajun, which Darcy
had known his entire life, demanded people meet them at their
level instead of accepting people for who they were. They
found it hard to feel comfortable with people who were different
or had different pastimes.
Thus, the strained
relationship with Chuck Bingley. It didn't matter that Chuck
was as good a man and as good a father and husband as could be
found anywhere. It was hard for T.B. Boudreaux to warm up to
a man with whom he had nothing in common, other than being the
father of his grandchildren.
Having grown up
along the river, Will knew the signs. The house wasn't over-the-top,
but there were two new Cadillacs in the garage. That boat had
twin 200-hp sea drives and couldn't be but a couple years old.
The truck that pulled it was a Ford 250 that probably had leather.
T.B. might wear an oilfield coverall, but the watch on his wrist
was a golden Rolex.
Yet, the swing set
and crawfish cooker were home-made, and by looking at T.B.'s
hands, Will figured he was the man who welded and cut and pieced
them together.
"Yes,"
Will answered. "I'm president of Delta Global."
"Young,"
T.B. observed. "You ever been aboard ship?"
"That was the
plan, after I got out of college. But, with my father's death,
the company put me on an accelerated management training schedule."
"Well, you
didn't miss anything. I was in the Navy during 'Nam. That was
enough of that."
"My dad was
in the Air Force, but my grandfather served in the Atlantic during
WWII. Destroyer - convoy duty."
"How many people
you got working for you, Will?"
"Worldwide
- just under a thousand."
T.B. raised his
eyebrows. "Pretty big outfit."
"There're bigger
ones. How about you? You own B&B Oilfield Services, right?"
"You heard
of us?"
"Sure. I've
lived 'round here all my life."
"Where you
say you're from?"
"Pemberley
Plantation, St. Charles Parish."
He nodded. "Still
raising sugar cane?"
"It's leased
out, but yeah."
"Lots of cane
around here." The two men looked at the fields.
"So, how are
things?" Will asked.
"Not bad. Hurricanes
are awful for most people, but good for the oil service companies.
After all the storms last season, we got a lot of work fixing
the rigs that got tore up."
"Are you finding
workers?" Will asked as Bubba returned, carrying three beers.
"Hell, no.
They're rarer than hen's teeth. Thanks, Bubba."
Will accepted his
beer. "Know what you mean. We're okay internationally. The
problem's in the States."
The two men bonded
over workforce woes, as the football coach looked on.
~*~*~
Eventually, the
men's hard work was removed from the pot, carried over to a series
of tables covered in newspapers, and dumped before the gathered
throng. The sea of steaming, bright red crawfish was pock-marked
with rust-brown potatoes and yellow ears of corn. Rolls of paper
towels were strategically placed about the table, and Mrs. Boudreaux
brought out small cups of her special seafood sauce to dip the
crustaceans. The smell that enveloped the appreciative crowd
was a mixture of pepper, spices, and the sea.
Everyone dived right
in, all masters of the art of sucking heads and pinching tails.
Some used the sauce, while others did without. Beer, colas, and
iced tea quenched the spice. Piles of discarded shells grew like
trophies to a conquering horde, as the diners, particularly the
men, seemed to be in competition to determine the shellfish eating
champion. It was a close, hard-fought race, but in the end, the
man called Bubba proved he had earned his nickname.
The few remaining
crawfish were reserved for Mrs. Boudreaux and the stews she would
make in the future. The papers were rolled up, the mess discarded
in the trashcans, and the satisfied Cajuns lounged about, enjoying
their full bellies and their fellowship. Lizzy was relieved and
pleased to see that Will had struck up a friendship with her
father, as the two engaged in an earnest, whispered conversation.
Dessert and coffee were accepted or declined; and as the sun began to disappear below the horizon, the South Louisiana sky ablaze in red and orange, Lizzy and Darcy made their farewells. T.B. and Franny walked their daughter and her boyfriend to his car, T.B. getting in one last conversation.
"Chuck is really
your banker?" he asked.
"One of them,"
answered Will. "Last year, we ran over fifty million in
loans and working capital through him."
T.B. shook his head.
"Damn." He peered unbelievably at the young CEO.
"T.B.,"
Will said, "do you think I would risk my family's corporation
with someone who didn't know his business? Chuck's real
good at what he does."
Mr. Boudreaux nodded.
"That makes sense. I'll think about that." He shook
Will's hand. "You come back anytime, eh, Will?"
"Be pleased
to, sir," he said, to Lizzy's joy.
T.B.'s comment to
her was whispered in her ear: "That's a keeper, boo."
Lizzy's eyes danced.
"I know, Daddy."
Franny' farewell was more vocal. "Now you drive carefully, and keep my girl safe! Goodbye! Goodbye!" The BMW turned around in the lawn and drove down the highway.
"Where are
you going?" asked Lizzy, since Will was going in the opposite
direction from whence they came.
"I thought
I'd take the River Road to the Gramercy Bridge going home,"
he said.
Lizzy settled back,
dreamily happy. "I'm glad you and Daddy got along. He can
be a bear, sometimes, but his heart is good."
Will grinned. "I've
dealt with guys like him for years. Find something in common
with him, and he's your friend for life." He paused. "Poor
Chuck."
"You caught
that."
"It was kinda
hard to miss."
"I don't understand
why Daddy doesn't like Chuck."
"He doesn't
respect him. He can't, because he can't understand Chuck. Chuck
never played sports, doesn't fish or hunt, would rather hang
out with his kids than the guys, and he's a banker. Your dad
really doesn't like bankers."
"They gave
him and Uncle Bernard a hard time when they started B&B.
He claimed they were trying to steal the business from them.
He hasn't forgotten." She looked at him. "But you said
something about Chuck before we left. What was that about?"
"I was trying
to get T.B. to see that Chuck is a very good loan officer. I'm
tying to get him to give Chuck a piece of his business. So, I
put in a good word."
A beautiful smile
broke out on her face as she grasped his forearm. "Will,
you are too good. Thank you so much."
"No thanks
necessary, love. It was the truth. I hope he takes me up on it."
He looked at the road and in as normal a voice as he could manage,
he continued, "Why don't you sit back and rest? It'll be
another ninety minutes before we get home."
She snuggled back.
"You'll be okay if I take a nap?"
Assured that he
really only had two full beers, she relaxed and closed her eyes.
She had been concerned over Will meeting her folks, and to her
disappointment, they had both been in rare form. Yet, William
disarmed her demanding father and captivated her excitable mother.
All without losing that adorable smile on his face. Even Kit
had been awestruck. "Damn, Lizzy, he's so HOT! Are there
any more like him?"
No. There aren't
any other William George Darcys in the world.
She didn't know
how long she had been napping, but when the car slowed down and
stopped on the side of the road, she somehow knew that not enough
time had passed for them to be back in New Orleans. She cracked
her eyes open just as Will said softy, "Lizzy. Lizzy, wake
up. I want you to see this."
She looked around.
Night had fallen, but she could tell they were on the River Road,
for the huge levee that held back the Mississippi was on the
opposite side of the road. The headlights illuminated a gate
that was opening.
"Will? What's
going on?"
"It's a surprise."
There was a childish enthusiasm in his tone.
The car moved forward
after the gates stopped. The one lane road was blacktopped, and
there were immense live oak trees to either side, separated by
azalea bushes. It looked like a driveway, but to where?
"Are we going
to a plantation house?"
"You'll see."
As the car made
its way down the curving road, the headlights revealed a large,
white two-story house. Lizzy started to get excited, but still
she asked, "What is this place?"
There was laughter
in Will's voice. "Can't you guess?"
Lizzy looked closer.
The beams from the BMW showed a mansion done in the Greek revival
style with enormous pillars framing a full porch across the front
of the house. Plantation green shutters framed every darkened
window. Azaleas, camellias, and crepe myrtles framed the exterior
of the manor. The scale of the building indicated that the interior
ceilings had to be over twelve feet high or higher.
Lizzy had visited Oak Ally, San Francisco, Rosedown, and the other the great plantation homes. She had never seen this place before. Therefore, it could only be -
"P-Pemberley?"
"Right the
first time!" Will lifted her hand for a kiss. "Welcome,
my love, to Pemberley Plantation."
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