Page 8 of Jacques

Sadie promised a chicken and a new raccoon-proof coop, bringing a smile to the old man’s face.

The people of the parish would have gone on well into the night if Hank hadn’t come to Sadie’s rescue and thanked everyone for coming, promising to help wherever they could.

Sadie let Hank usher her to their vehicle, waving goodbye as she went.

Jacques, as promised, waited for Danny, one of the last people to leave the tent after Rene DeRoche and volunteers loaded up the delivery van with the ice chests, beer kegs and the portable bar.

She gave him a tired smile. “Thanks for staying.”

“My pleasure,” he said. “How long until you have to be at the Crawdad Hole?”

“I actually have an hour. I plan to put my feet up and eat my lunch.” She held up a covered plate. “One of the perks of cleaning up is getting to take leftovers home. Care to join me?”

“Only if you managed to bag some of that pulled pork.”

She grinned. “As a matter of fact, I got an embarrassing amount I couldn’t possibly eat by myself.”

“Then yes, I’d be happy to help you with the embarrassing amount of pulled pork.” He held out his hands. “Let me carry it, so I feel useful.”

He was surprised she handed it over without an argument. The woman was determinedly independent, almost to a fault—one of her traits he appreciated most. She was no shrinking violet. Quite the opposite...in public, as witnessed in the Bobby Ray takedown.

As they walked, the sun sank low in the sky, casting deep shadows across the small town. The cicadas started their nightly song, blending with the sounds of frogs.

“I had a customer once who told me he was moving to the country for peace and quiet.” Danny laughed. “I bit my tongue. He seemed hellbent on all that peace and quiet. I couldn’t bear to tell him he had it all wrong.”

Jacques chuckled. “Anyone who thinks living in the country is quiet has never lived in the country. Sure, you don’t have all the noise from traffic and horns blaring at all hours, but...” he waved a hand, “this is far from quiet.”

“Right?” She shook her head, smiling.

The short walk went by entirely too fast. Jacques could have kept going. But Danny had been on her feet all day and would be on her feet well into the night. He followed her up to her apartment over the yoga studio and waited for her to unlock the door.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll prepare a couple of plates for us.”

“Why not let me?” Jacques said. “You can sit and put your feet up for a few minutes longer. Just point to the plates.”

“I don’t mind, but...” she said, though she headed for the eight-hundred-pound sofa instead of the kitchen, “if you insist...” Danny dropped onto the cushion and rested her feet on an ottoman in front of her.

“You sure you’re up to working the evening shift?” Jacques asked, opening and closing cabinet doors until he located plates and cutlery.

“I’m sure,” she said. “Besides, I can’t let Rene down. If I don’t show up, he’ll be shorthanded. He’d got to be as tired as I am. I’ll be okay after I eat and drink a gallon of coffee.”

“Coffee?” Jacques glanced around the kitchen. “I can make coffee.”

“You don’t have to wait on me,” Danny said. “I’m capable⁠—”

“—of taking care of yourself.” Jacques gave her the side-eye. “I’ve got this. Just relax.”

He heaped a portion of the pulled pork onto a hamburger bun, scooped potato salad and baked beans next to it and carried the plate and a fork to where Danny sat on the couch.

“Bless you,” she said with a sigh. “Holy smokes, that’s a lot of food. Did you save some for yourself?”

He laughed. “That’s only a fraction of what was on that plate. There’s plenty. I want to get the coffee going before I join you.”

“I’m old-fashioned,” she said around the bite of her sandwich. She chewed, swallowed and continued. “No pods for me. The grounds are in a can on the counter; filters are in the cabinet over the coffee maker. I like it strong.”

“Sugar, cream?”

“Black,” she answered.