The High Tide Club
“Be that way, then,” Josephine huffed. “I wanted to meet with Gabe privately anyway. Go on to the kitchen with you.”
Brooke exchanged a look with Gabe. He would use his considerable tact to settle her down. “I think I’ll go see what Louette is up to.”
24
Brooke pushed the kitchen door open and found Louette stirring a boiling pot on the stovetop with a long wooden spoon. The housekeeper wore a faded blue bandanna over her hair and a white butcher’s apron fastened around her waist.
“Can I get you something?” Louette asked, mopping her face with a dishtowel. Another box fan was propped in a large double window over the old-fashioned cast-iron sink, but it did little to cool the oven-like room.
“Sorry to intrude,” Brooke said, stationing herself in front of the fan. “Josephine had to talk to Gabe in private. What are you cooking?”
“Chicken soup,” Louette said. “Miss Josephine’s gotten real finicky, but I can usually get her to eat some if I fix it special. White meat only. A tiny bit of onion and celery and carrots.”
“Soup,” Brooke grimaced. “How can you even stand to turn on the stove in this heat?”
“My mama used to say air-conditioning wasn’t good for you. Gives folks head colds. She told us that to keep us from complaining, I know, but I guess I’m just used to it now. Wouldn’t know how to act if I did have it.”
Louette went to the refrigerator, a rust-spotted relic of a fifties-era Frigidaire, and brought out a heavy cut-glass pitcher of iced tea. She opened the icebox and brought out an aluminum tray. With one deft motion, she cracked the handle and dumped half the ice cubes into a tall glass. “Drink some iced tea, and that’ll cool you down.”
Brooke gratefully accepted the tea, resting the cold glass against a sweat-dampened temple. She placed her briefcase on the scarred red Formica countertop and produced the piece of notebook paper Farrah had prepared from her courthouse research.
“Hey, Louette. This is the list my assistant made of all the people who at one time owned property at Oyster Bluff. I’m wondering if you could take a look at the list and tell me who’s still living and where I can contact them.”
The housekeeper reached into the pocket of her apron, brought out a pair of reading glasses, and ran a finger down the list.
“Yeah, that’s Angela. She’s still living in the old home place. And that’s Jerome. He moved off a few years ago after his wife died, but I know his son works at the Family Dollar store on the mainland. I can get Jerome’s address from him.”
She tapped the list. “This here’s my sister Loreen, and she lives with my other sister Latrelle. They’re both widows.”
She kept reading names as Brooke made notes on each entry. “Did that help?” she asked when she’d reached the end. “How long do you think it’ll take, ’til she gives us our houses back?”
“For people like you, who still live on the island, it’s a fairly straightforward process,” Brooke said. “I’ll get the paperwork drawn up, and if Josephine signs off as she promised, it shouldn’t take long at all. Tracking down the other families is a different matter.”
“You don’t think she’ll change her mind?” Louette asked, putting her glasses back in her pocket. “About us getting our property back? Especially the church and the graveyard?”
“You know Josephine better than I do,” Brooke said, wanting to be honest. “But she seems sincere in her desire to make things right.”
“All I can do is pray,” Louette said with a heavy sigh. “The rest is up to Jesus.”
Brooke finished her iced tea and set it in the sink before bringing up another matter. “Something I’ve been meaning to ask you about. What’s the story with C. D.?”
Louette laughed. “He’s an odd one, isn’t he?”
“How did he come to work for Josephine?”
“He just showed up one day, probably about a year ago. Knocked on the front door and asked if we had any work we needed doing. He claimed he knew about boats, so Miss Josephine hired him on.”
“Where does he live?”
“He’s got himself a little place fixed up in the old chauffeur’s cottage by the barn. There’s no real kitchen out there, just a hot plate, so he comes around and eats here sometimes.”
“I hate to make more work for you, Louette, but Josephine is going to have company arriving on Friday.”
“Friday? Miss Josephine didn’t say nothing about company coming.”
“I just firmed up the arrangements yesterday. It’ll be four women.”
“But that’s the day after tomorrow,” Louette said. “That means I got to get guest rooms ready and beds made up. Get some groceries in here … that’s more company than we’ve had since, well, I don’t rightly know when.”
“They’re not staying at Shellhaven. In fact, they’re not even staying on the island. Except maybe Varina and Felicia, who I guess will stay with one of the nieces and nephews. The other woman, Lizzie, I’ll get her a room on the mainland, and of course, my mother will be staying with me.”
“Am I allowed to know why these folks are coming over here?” Louette asked, returning to the stove. “Something to do with Miss Josephine’s will?”
“Something like that,” Brooke said. “I’m sure Josephine will tell you what she wants as far as food.”
“Lord Jesus,” Louette muttered. “Now I got to get that dining room straightened out. Got to get me a grocery list together, probably need to bake some rolls and pies…”
The kitchen door swung open just then, and Gabe Wynant stuck his head inside. “Her Majesty has retreated to her bedchamber for a nap,” he announced with a grin. “And we’re dismissed.”
* * *
When they got back to St. Ann’s, Gabe followed Brooke to the restaurant where she’d promised him lunch, parking beside her in the nearly full lot outside Screen Door Seafood.
“Really?” Gabe nodded toward the restaurant behind him. “This is your idea of an awesome place to dine?”
In its past life, the building had been a wholesale seafood processing plant, and a pair of shrimp boats were still tied up to a wharf that ran along the riverfront. The low-slung rusting corrugated steel building was perched on wooden pilings, with large rollup doors on the side facing the street. These had once provided access to refrigerated tractor-trailer rigs. Now the doors were rolled up, with metal-cased windows revealing tables crowded with happy diners.
“Trust me,” Brooke said. “You’re gonna love it.”
* * *
“Miss Brooke!” The young black man’s face lit up with a wide smile, revealing a row of gleaming gold-capped front teeth. He flung muscular arms around her shoulders and hugged her tightly.
“Table for one like usual?” he asked, but before she could answer, he spotted Gabe and released her.
“Hey there! I bet you’re Miss Brooke’s daddy.” He grabbed Gabe’s hand and pumped it enthusiastically. “How you doin’? I’m Myles. I wanna tell you, this daughter of yours is a great lawyer. Really. She helped my mama so much. Took care of business. She’s a great lawyer, sir, and I know you’re real proud of her.”