Chapter 3 #2
“A little. But it all seemed a little too late. Especially when his father died. Luis was just shy of twenty-one when Armand passed.” Amelie swallowed hard at the lump forming in her throat.
“How did Amand die?” Maurice asked softly.
She gripped the mop tightly and stared at her reflection in the shiny stainless-steel door of the refrigerator.
Amelie didn’t see herself. She saw Armand lying on the floor of the restaurant kitchen.
The early morning light fell across his pale and waxy face.
He’d lain face-down, his cheek pressed into a dark, almost black stain on his usually spotless floor.
Unmoving. Not breathing. “The médecin légiste report stated that he’d had a heart attack.
When he fell, he hit his head on the corner of the counter. ”
“Who found him?” Maurice asked.
She turned to face him. His face blurred through her tears. “Me.”
Maurice set his rag aside and crossed to her. He took the mop from her hands and set it aside. Then he pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” she whispered.
“I’m sorry you had to be the one who found him.” He held her close, stroking her hair. “It’s hard to see someone you love...like that.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist. “I was in a state of denial. It couldn’t be real. It wasn’t Armand. He wasn’t dead.” She leaned her cheek against his shoulder.
“Was that what you were thinking about on the dance floor?”
She nodded. “It was three years ago last night that he died. Each year, it seems a little easier to make it through the day. I was feeling guilty that the memories are fading. That the pain of his death is becoming more bearable. It shouldn’t, should it?
” She leaned back and looked up into his face.
He shook his head. “Life goes on. Those of us lucky enough to live have to keep going. Truth is, none of us is getting out of this alive. We just don’t know when our number is up. When our time is up. We can’t stop living because someone we loved died.”
Amelie frowned. “You know.”
He nodded.
“Who did you lose?”
“A couple of my brothers in arms, my mother and father,” he paused for only a second, “and my fiancée.”
Amelie’s eyes widened. “Oh, Maurice. I should be comforting you, not the other way around.”
His mouth quirked on one corner. “In a way, you are.” Tightening his arms around her briefly, he pressed his lips to her forehead.
“Maybe misery does love company. And maybe through shared sorrow we can find our way to happiness.” He set her at arm’s length.
“And maybe we will get more work done and make a brighter future if we aren’t wallowing in the past.” He tipped the mop handle into her hands.
When she wrapped her hands around it, he didn’t release it. Maurice stared down into her eyes. “I’m not pushing you away, Amelie. But I mean it, wallowing won’t do justice to those who have passed. I know. I did it long enough. I sank so deep in sadness, I wanted to end my own life.”
Amelie gasped. “You?”
He nodded. “Me. That’s when I finally pulled myself up by the bootstraps and got on with the business of living. My friends, my parents and my fiancée wouldn’t have wanted me to stop living because they had. They would’ve wanted me to live my life to its fullest. For them. For me.”
Amelie nodded. “That’s what I’ve tried to do.
After Armand died, I tried to fill Armand’s shoes as chef.
The restaurant owner felt Chez Beno?t wouldn’t survive without its namesake and head chef.
They closed the restaurant for good. I couldn’t stay in Paris without a job, so I had to come back to the States.
I went to work in New Orleans, as it was as close to home as I could be and still work as the chef Armand trained me to be. Not just a patissière.”
“Why didn’t that work?”
“I was close to home but by myself. When my apartment was broken into, I realized New Orleans wasn’t for me.
Too much city for a lone woman.” She snorted softly.
“That might make me a coward, but I get where Julia was coming from. I couldn’t do it on my own.
I needed a support system of people I cared about and who cared about me.
I had that in Paris with Armand until he died.
After the break-in here, I realize,” she waved a hand to the side, “my people are here. In Bayou Mambaloa.”
“And you’ve done very well if your happy customers are anything to go on.” He stroked her hand holding the mop handle. “Any regrets?”
She drew in a deep breath and let it out. “Luis.”
Maurice frowned. “What happened with Luis after his father died?”
“I was with him at the funeral. Before the restaurant closed, I helped him organize his father’s estate.
He was clueless. Not that I had much of an idea.
When the owners of Chez Beno?t announced they were closing, I asked Luis to come with me to New Orleans.
He chose to go back to California, where he still had some friends from when he’d been in high school. ”
“How is he doing?” Maurice asked. “Do you keep in touch?”
Amelie gave Maurice a twisted smile. “I’m sure if it were up to Luis, we would have fallen out of touch. But I make it a point to call him every month.”
“And?”
She sighed. “He’s living on his inheritance. Thankfully, Armand had it placed in a trust where he only gets so much each month until he turns thirty-five. Then it will all go to him. Otherwise, I’m not sure how he would’ve handled it.”
“Did he get a job? Go back to school?”
“He went back to school as soon as he returned to California. I’m not sure what he was studying, but he said he was making good grades and was making friends.
Last month, he said he’d gotten a part-time job at a restaurant, of all places.
This from a guy who wouldn’t let his world-renowned chef father teach him what he knew. ”
“Sounds like he might be getting his head on straight.”
“I hope so. He’s not my son, but Armand would’ve been glad to know I didn’t abandon him completely. That someone was looking out for him.”
“You’re a good person, Amelie,” Maurice said and released his hold on the mop handle.
“I feel like I’d have been better if I could’ve convinced Luis to come with me.”
“But you can’t tell a young man anything,” Maurice said. “I know. I was a young man once. No one could tell me anything. I had to learn for myself.”
Her eyebrows shot upward. “You?”
He nodded. “There were so many times I wished I’d listened to my parents. After I was in trouble. Or my drill sergeant. Again, after I was in trouble and doing a million pushups for some stupid stunt I thought was a good idea at the time.”
Amelie laughed. “Stubborn much?”
“Too much.”
She sighed. “I usually call Luis around this time every year, not so much to remind him that his father died at this time, but because thinking of Armand reminds me to call and check on his son.”
“What’s keeping you?”
She stared out a window at the gray light of dawn, just barely making the world visible outside. “It’s too early here. It’ll be even earlier in California. But I will. Later. For now, I need to finish cleaning and get on the road to New Orleans to buy supplies.”
They went back to work, finishing up as the sun rose.
Amelie followed Maurice as he carried the mop bucket out the back door. They were just in time to watch the sunrise set Bayou Mambaloa on fire with all the reds, oranges and yellows imaginable.
“This is why I love it here so much. It’s not just the people who fill my life, it’s the peace and beauty of the bayou,” she said softly.
When Maurice cocked an eyebrow in her direction, Amelie laughed. “Okay, having my bakery vandalized isn’t so peaceful, but the bayou does not disappoint with the show it’s putting on this morning.”
Maurice tossed the water across the back parking lot and turned to face her.
Amelie smiled. “Thank you for helping me get the shop back in order. And thank you for being here for me.”
He turned the bucket upside down, straightened and gave her a dip of his head. “My pleasure.”
Amelie wanted to say more, but her cell phone rang at that moment. She glanced down and frowned.
“Who is it?” Maurice asked.
“Luis,” she said. “He never calls me. And why is he calling so early?” She answered the call. “Luis? Is everything all right?”
“Amelie,” Luis’s voice sounded in her ear. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“Not at all,” she said, her gaze on Maurice, a frown pulling at her brow. “What’s wrong?”
He laughed. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just that I’m in New Orleans and hoped I could come see you.”