Page 58 of Lulu’s Recipe for Cajun Sass

“I don’t blame you for hidin’ out here.”

“I am not hidin’ out. Cain’t a gal jist rest? By herself?”

Tee-John didn’t take the hint, his butt planted firmly in his rocker. And of course he had to talk, too. “It’s a madhouse out there.” They both rocked in comfortable silence for a few moments before Tee-John chuckled. “You created a real war zone, darlin’.”

“How’s that?”

“Giving Mary Lou your car. No one was expecting that. Now all the cousins are arguin’ over what must be in store for them if yer startin’ ta dole out yer belongings. What next? You orderin’ yer coffin from Amazon, or somethin’? Kin I expect ta see it on yer back porch next time I come by?”

“Doan be silly.” Actually, she didn’t know you could order coffins off the Internet. She’d have to check into that.

“Etienne is convinced you must have a Lamborghini or an airplane in store fer him if Mary Lou got Lillian. Jude mentioned a motorcycle. Camille and Blanche are arguin’ over yer cottage.”

Louise shrugged. “They’ll all get their due in time.”

“And, mon Dieu! What’s this I hear about you buying a VW?”

She shrugged again.

“You know it’s time to give up driving.”

Another shrug.

“You have heard of Uber, haven’t you?”

“Fer goodness sake, Tee-John! I’m not dyin’. All I did was give a girl a gift ta boost her Cajun Sass. Thass all. You and yer brothers and sisters need ta find somethin’ ta occupy yer time, instead of meddlin’ in mah life.”

“Meddling? Meddling?” he sputtered. “Yer the queen of meddling.”

“Mebbe I should be makin’ a wish or two,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him, then grinning.

“Don’t you dare!” he said, pretending to duck her evil eye.

“Well, mebbe we do have enough babies fer now. But surely it’s time fer some matchmakin’. Doan we have some twenty-somethin’s in the family what need a boost toward the altar?”

“Oh, my God!” Tee-John muttered.

Just then a vehicle pulled through the gate and drove right up to the front of the porch. It was a white van with the logo “Starr Foods” on the side.

“Oh, goody! It’s mah date. I was afraid he took a nap and forgot ta come.”

“A…a date?” Tee-John sputtered, then grinned, “Well, slap mah head and call me silly.”

She slapped Tee-John on the arm to shush his silliness as she creakily rose from the rocker, then headed toward the dapper gentleman who exited the van. Tee-John stood, too, probably thinking she needed help down the steps.

It was Samuel Starr, Samantha’s grandfather, the founder of the Starr Foods supermarket chain. He was dressed as usual, in a white suit, white shoes, planter’s hat, and gray beard and mustache trimmed to perfection. Like the original Colonel Sanders, but better.

“Doan he look sexier than a hoot owl in them red suspenders?” she whispered to Tee-John. “Talk about!”

Tee-John made a sound halfway between a laugh and a snort.

“Hey, Sam! Yer jist in time fer the birthday cake ’n’ singin’,” Louise called out.

“Great,” he said, taking two shopping bags filled with wrapped gifts from the back of the van.

“Ya doan hafta worry about how I’ll get home t’night,” Louise told Tee-John. “Sam will be takin’ me home and…” She let her words trail off just to tease Tee-John whose jaw had dropped open.

But then Tee-John took her into a big hug which lifted her off her feet and caused her hat to fall off. Chuckling, he said into her ear, “You never change, do you, old lady?”

“Who you callin’ an old lady?”

“You. One of these days you’ll have to admit to being old.”

“Hmpfh! Well, I may be old, but I ain’t dead yet. I got lots ta do before I go to my glory.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”