Page 54 of Lulu’s Recipe for Cajun Sass

He rolled his eyes, which was the usual reaction from her great-nephews (or grandsons, if they only knew) when she said something they disagreed with. A bunch of know-it-alls, they were, bless their hearts.

“Did you hear Dad is in the hospital again? Pretty bad shape this time.”

“Valcour?”

“He’s the only Dad I have. Unfortunately.”

“His liver, I bet. The human body kin take only so much booze…and meanness.” Louise didn’t usually wish ill on folks, but Valcour LeDeux had been her sworn enemy ever since he’d ruined Adèle’s life and a whole passel of legitimate and illegitimate children he begat on dozens of women throughout the South. Luc understood better than most why she hated the man so. After Adèle suffered years of abuse following her marriage to the brute when she was only seventeen, she died of cancer (though Louise was inclined to attribute it to heartbreak). She left behind three pitiful orphan boys, Luc being the oldest at twelve, followed by Rene and Remy, who’d been only nine and eight. Luc had done his best in the rusted-out trailer they called home, trying to care for his younger brothers, including washing their clothes for school in a nearby stream when the washing machine broke down or the power was turned off for failure to pay the electric bill. Many a time, one or all the boys would flee to her cottage for protection. The authorities would do nothing in those days because Valcour was the father.

Years later, oil was discovered on Valcour’s property, and he became a wealthy man, in cahoots with the petroleum companies that raped the bayou. He married again and had Tee-John, but he still spread his seed from one end of the state to the other. At last count, Louise figured he had fathered at least fifteen legitimate and illegitimate kids. And Louise, though blood related to only three of them, had become Tante Lulu to them all. In fact, to everyone on the bayou. Not a bad legacy, she figured.

Still, if Valcour was dying or something, he would get his just desserts on the other side. It wasn’t her place to judge. “I’m sorry, Luc. He’s yer daddy, no matter what,” she said. “Do ya think I should go visit him?”

“Whaaat?” Luc exclaimed and glanced her way with horror. “Don’t you dare. He’d probably have a heart attack, on top of everything else.”

“Whatever you say,” she replied, folding her hands with innocence on her lap. At least I tried. Maybe I’ll go see him anyhow.

They were approaching the gates to Triple L Ranch now. By the looks of all the vehicles parked in front of the rustic lodge style home and in a nearby pasture, they were among the last to arrive. And there were numerous newspaper and TV vans with those dishes on top parked outside the fence.

She assumed that they were here for her great-great-“nephew” (or great-grandson) who supposedly planned to make some kind of announcement about his football career plans any day now. Even though they weren’t here for her, you never knew when you might catch the cameraman’s eye. Therefore, Louise was glad she’d dressed in her most photogenic outfit—a red-and-white polka dot, wraparound sundress with matching red, low-heeled sandals (not her favorite red high heels on a property where horse poop might pop up at any moment), and a straw sun hat with pretty red roses. Her lipstick and nail and toe polish were matching shades of “Hot Sex” from Charmaine’s salon. Not that she’d had any of that for a long, long time. Not with a partner, ha, ha, ha. After changing her mind over and over, she’d finally settled on her strawberry blonde Reba McEntire wig in a shoulder-length bouncy style that fitted her mood today.

“Welcome, everyone!” said Raoul Lanier, or Rusty as he was known, who came down the wide front steps of the big, rambling log home they referred to as a “lodge” to greet them. He waved at Sylvie who was just getting out of the car and said, “And happy birthday to you, young Christopher.”

Chris was still half asleep in his mother’s arms, his head resting on her shoulder, a thumb locked in his tiny mouth, but he gave Rusty a shy smile.

Rusty was around fifty years old, but he was still the hottest Cajun in Louisiana. And that was saying a lot. All the LeDeux males were good looking, and Cajun men in general had what girls in her day called the va-va-voom factor. But with Rusty…well, women did double takes when he walked down the street, especially if he was wearing his cowboy hat and tight jeans. Whoo-ee! She had to give the man credit, though; he had eyes only for Charmaine. Even after all these years, his eyes lit up when she walked into a room (usually with a sexy swish of her hips) and he was wont to mutter his usual expression, “Mercy!”

Sylvie went into the house with Chris, mentioning something about needing a bathroom. Rusty leaned down and gave Louise a warm hug, followed by a full-body perusal and a wolf whistle. “You’re lookin’ good today, Tante Lulu.”

Louise wasn’t sure if he was serious or poking fun at her. Didn’t matter. She dressed for herself, not anyone else. “Kin you help Luc with mah cake? Mebbe you should put it in the fridge fer a while. It might melt in this heat.”

Rusty’s attention was drawn then to Luc, who was swearing under his breath (as if I can’t hear him) as he tried to maneuver her unwieldy cake out of the car; it must weigh about ten pounds.

“We don’t have a fridge that big,” Rusty said.

“Put it in one of yer cow trucks then.”

“My cow trucks?” Rusty looked at Luc who had pulled the cake on its three-foot tray onto the tailgate of his SUV.

Luc shrugged at Rusty. “She probably means one of those refrigerated meat trucks.”

Why were people always trying to interpret what she said? As if she spoke another language. Idjits, that’s what they were!

Rusty looked back at her. “I don’t have refrigerated meat trucks. My cows are alive when we truck them to market.”

Louise waved a hand airily. “Whatever. I smell cow.”

“Of course you smell cow. This is a cattle ranch.”

“Doan be snippy with me. I meant cooked cow.”

“Oh. Sorry. The firepits were just opened, and the meat is resting.”

“Come out on the patio, auntie,” Charmaine said. She’d just come out of the front door and onto the porch. “Everyone’s here, waitin’ fer you so the party can start.”

Louise didn’t doubt that one bit. “Where’s Timmy?”

“I just put him down for a nap. He’s been crawling around like a crazy bedbug all morning.”