Page 1 of The Bitter Heir and the Beauty

Chapter 1

Hashtag Mombie Life

Sleep is an underrated staple in life until you’re running on a deficit. Forget zombie. I’m officially a mombie.

I’m only hoping to get back to Hogwash Holler before—a deep rumble comes from the backseat. Ironic that we’re driving past Pouppeville.

Hoping a distraction will thwart the impending situation, I start singing, “Rain, rain go away, come again another ...”

As the windshield wipers swipe the glass at a furious pace, reminding me to slow down, Leonie laughs...then toots again.

Please don’t let it turn into a crampy cry.

I named the baby Leonie because she roars like a lion cub. Also, it was my great-grandmother’s name. While my mother was otherwise occupied, my grandmother bore the brunt of making sure I didn’t get into too much trouble before she passed away.

Aside from previous involvement withLes Trois Tasses, my old partner in teenage delinquency and I are now on the right side of the law.

Eager to get home to take care of Leonie’s “business,” I resist the temptation to put the pedal to the metal.

On account of me not turning in Jesse on more than one occasion, he typically won’t pull me over for having a lapsed registration or going a few miles over the speed limit, but I’m not in my car today. To be fair, I usually try to stick to the rules of the road during operating hours out of respect for our Deputy Sheriff.

I try another nursery rhyme drawn from the depths of my memory. “Row, row, row your boat gently down the ...”

Leonie coos and burbles in the backseat, making baby noises.

Crisis averted, I hope.

I yawn while trying to draw a deep breath. This morning was intense and not because I had to change out of my one nice outfit because Leonie spit up on me before we left on our errand. Nor was it because Minou streaked through the house with a mouse—again. I’m afraid she’s found herself a tomcat and is trying to impress him, or she doesn’t like how the new resident in the Hamilton household interferes with her cat naps.

Never mind it being a long morning, it’s been a long couple of months.

I’m officially a mom. I just signed the documents and everything—though I know well enough that ink on a piece of paper doesn’t make a mother. I’m still learning what does since mine held a loose definition of motherhood and the law.

Leonie gets the kind of quiet that comes before a storm.

Uh oh. Crisis back on?

I try another song from the depths of my memory. “Hickory, dickory, dock ...”

She lets out a shriek.

I’ve been told I have pageant-worthy beauty, but my tone-deaf singing is probably more alarming than soothing or entertaining to a baby.

But it’s past her naptime. I’m out of clean diapers, and hers is going to be dirty at any moment. I’m new at this but can read the signs ... and smells.

“We’re almost there, sweet girl,” I say in my normal voice.

She lets out a happy sound, and I hear her little feet kicking the back of the seat. I had the option to borrow Bruce Landry’s ancient Buick Century or Missy Groveland’s Corolla and went with the latter because it seemed the more practical choice, given my situation. Better on fuel, too.

For your information, the wordborrowdoesn’t have air quotes around it. I am not Lisette “Luckie” Hamilton, thank you very much. I’ll refill the gas tank and Missy will get all-she-can-eat pancakes on me at the Laughing Gator Grille this week.

As I pull onto Metairie Road, I’ve never been so relieved to be back in Hogwash Holler. The gas will have to wait. Er, for the car. From the odor filtering from the back seat, the damage is done. But Baby Girl will only be in a dirty diaper a moment longer because we’re almost to the mobile home park.

Like a pit crew at a speedway, I have the baby in the house, on the changing table, and out of the soiled situation in less than fifteen seconds. It wouldn’t fly for NASCAR, but it works for Leonie because her squished-up face and the fierce cry coming from her lips dissolve into a smile.

And she gets tickles and raspberries and nose nuzzles from me.

“Who’s my sweet girl who was an angel at the lawyer’s office? Who impressed everyone with her absolute cuteness? Who has a clean diaper and is about to get lunch and a nap?”

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