Page 29 of Beau

“Let me go first.” Beau opened the door and stepped out into the hall. When he was certain no one was lurking, waiting to strike, he held out his hand to Aurelie.

She placed her hand in his and allowed him to draw her across the threshold. They left the boarding house, climbed into his truck and headed for breakfast.

When Beau pulled up to a home on the edge of Bayou Mambaloa, Aurelie frowned. “This isn’t a restaurant.”

He shifted into park. “Did I say I was taking you to a restaurant?”

Her forehead wrinkled as she reluctantly released her seatbelt. “You said you were taking me to breakfast.”

“And I am.” Beau pushed open his door and dropped to the ground. He rounded the front of the truck as Aurelie slowly opened the door.

He stared up at her. “Are you coming in with me?”

She waved a hand toward the house. “This is someone’s home.”

“Yes, it is.” He reached for her, wrapping his hands around her waist, pulled her from her seat and set her on the ground.

Her frown deepened. “You can’t just barge into someone’s home without giving them some kind of heads-up.”

“Don’t worry, I know the cook.” He grinned. “She won’t mind.”

“Even if she’s family, you still need to warn her that you’re coming and bringing a guest,” Aurelie protested as he marched her up the steps of the front porch.

“I couldn’t. Remember?” He opened the front door and held it for her. “Our cell phones aren’t working.”

Aurelie refused to step through the door. “I can’t go in uninvited.”

Beau shrugged, leaned into the house and shouted, “Hey, Mom, I brought a guest for breakfast!”

A petite woman with sandy-blond hair, much like his, appeared from around a corner. “Beau, honey, is dat you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He took Aurelie’s hand and drew her across the threshold. “This is Aurelie Anderson. We’ve come for breakfast.”

“Perfect,” she said with a wide smile. “Come on in. I made plenty of scrambled eggs, pancakes and bacon to go around,” she said in her charming Cajun accent. She came forward, wiping her hands on her apron. “Aurelie, so very nice to meet you. I’m Helen Boyette, Beau’s maman.”

As Aurelie shook his mother’s hand, she shot a glare at Beau. “Your mother?”

He nodded. “I told you I was taking you to a place where you could get the best breakfast in the parish.”

His mother swatted his arm. “Oh, stop.” She hooked her arm through Aurelie’s. “Come in. Come in. We’re in da kitchen, and I’m probably burning something. I love da outfit. You’ll have to tell me where you got it. Do you t’ink it would look good on an over-forty-year-old like dis maman?”

“I’m sure it would look great on you.” Aurelie let Helen lead her away.

“I love da way you accessorized it,” his mother said.

Beau followed the two women, shaking his head. His mother didn’t know a stranger. Everyone she met was family to her. Their house was where every kid in the parish came to hang out.

The noise level increased with every step as they neared the kitchen.

When Aurelie stepped through the door, it was as if someone had switched off the radio.

For all of a split second.

Then the noise resumed, with everyone talking at once.

“It’s a bit loud dis morning.” His mother raised her voice to talk above the din. “Dis is Aurelie, Beau’s girl.”

Aurelie started to shake her head, but Helen Boyette wasn’t finished with her introductions. “Sebastian,” the older woman said, her forehead wrinkling, “what number are you?”

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