Identity (21 page)

“English,
Mémé
. English. Come out here, I want you to meet Shay, your next-door neighbor.”

Moments later, a regal woman emerged. Dressed in a Chanel-styled pantsuit with long white hair braided intricately around her skull, she was the epitome of the classic beauty, albeit one in the evening of her life. She eyed Shay with keen eyes, then broke into a wide smile. She rushed toward Shay and took her hand between her own parchment palms. “So good to meet you finally. I waved to you, yes? I saw the flame hair.” One hand moved to indicate her own white tresses as if to help Shay understand.

“Yes, I saw you too. I waved.” Shay blushed, realizing how stupid her remark sounded. She was positively taken aback by the lovely, self-assured woman.

“Shay, this is my grandmother, Rosaries Hinto.
Mémé
, Shay Raynor,” Liza said, making the formal introduction. She lifted the small case and shawl resting on the curved sofa. “Is this everything,
Mémé
?”

Rosaries nodded, “
Oui
.” She was still studying Shay, as if knowing she had stolen Liza’s heart. She spoke slowly, her voice gentle. “You call me Rose or
Mémé
. We shall be great friends.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Tom and Rich were both at home when they arrived and helped unload the groceries while Liza focused on helping
Mémé
and a very sore Shay from the cab of the truck. The drive in had been interesting.
Mémé,
perched between the two of them, had asked Shay probing questions about her life and family during the entire drive to Bon Secour. The elderly woman was an expert at genteelly ferreting out information, and Liza now knew more about Shay’s life than before. Oddly enough, Shay didn’t appear to feel as though her privacy had been invaded. The Canadian woman was a master and had even gently pried out the story of Pepper’s abuse.

Once inside, Liza forced Shay and
Mémé
into chairs at the kitchen table, then toted their overnight bags upstairs, placing
Mémé
’s bag into Rich’s bedroom and Shay’s bag into hers. She took time for one more quick glance around her bedroom. Though still bearing worn relics of her childhood, it was presentable.

As soon as Liza was out of the room, Rosaries stood and clicked open her vinyl handbag. She removed a large cloth apron which she pulled over her head and tied in back.

“Ridiculous to sit,” she muttered to herself as she moved to the sink and unpacked the nearest cloth grocery bag.

Shay watched in amazement as Rosaries expertly moved through the kitchen. She knew where everything was located and soon had placed a large pot of salted water next to the sink and was snipping open the protective wrapping on the enormous turkey. Shay rose and began unpacking bags as well, placing the contents onto the counter and folding the empties into a neat pile.

Rich entered with another load and eyed Shay doubtfully. Shay smiled and took the bags from him.

“Hi, Rich, good to see you again,” she said cheerfully. “You remember me, don’t you? Shay, from CM’s place?”

Rich blushed and nodded briefly at her before darting out the back door.

Rosaries studied the flapping door. “My grandson, the wit,” she said apologetically.

Shay laughed as she continued to place grocery items on the counter.

“Whoa, you two!” Liza cried as she entered the kitchen. “I thought I told you both to sit still.”

“Since when do I take the orders from you?” Rosaries retorted as she washed the turkey in the sink.

“Yeah,” Shay agreed.

Tom entered and placed two more bags on the table. He paused and looked at his wife’s mother. “How have you been, Rose?”

Rosaries paused in her work, dried her hands and moved to hug her son-in-law. She reared back and studied his face. “We are well,
non
?”

Tom, speechless, just nodded and pulled her into another lengthy embrace.

Breaking the moment, Liza cleared her throat. “Pop, you know I’m never going to learn to cook if
Mémé
keeps doing it. Every time I say to her ‘just watch me to make sure I’m doing it right’ and look what she does.”

“Liza, you’re an intelligent woman,” Tom said, smiling. “Seems like you’d understand how it works by now. Rosaries will no more sit idle than that bayou out there will dry up next week.”

“Fine!” Liza said petulantly. “I guess I’ll just have to learn by osmosis.” She began earnestly dividing canned goods as the others laughed.

Tom wandered into the relative safety of the living room, and Shay jumped in to help with the preparations. Rosaries and Liza started talking then, about Liza’s mother, Rosaries’ daughter, Sienna. Thanksgiving had been the time she enjoyed most because she loved her big family after being an only child. This could have resulted in a maudlin discussion, but Shay was amazed to see it veer off into a celebration of Sienna’s life and all the positives she’d brought to the family. Obviously, the upbeat spirit of this woman had made a memorable mark on all their lives.

The sheer quantity of food amazed Shay as well. It would seem that the Hughes family knew how to eat well. That or the guest list had to be huge. Liza and Rosaries worked well together as they effortlessly produced the immense feast. They prepared the turkey with a coating of herbed butter, stuffing it with chopped celery, onion, and herbs from the garden, and then Liza placed it into the bottom of a two-oven set-up built into one wall of the kitchen. A ham, dotted with cloves, butter and brown sugar went into the top oven. That done, the duo worked as a team to unroll store-bought pastry into six pie pans and mix the fillings. Shay saw a large bowl of pecans become a gooey, caramelized concoction. Green apples, dark, burgundy cherries and canned pumpkin were prepared and doctored to become something magical under Rosaries’ firm guidance.

Feeling like a third wheel, Shay focused on cleanup duties, steadfastly claiming the territory around the sink to wash and dry necessary pans, implements and platters for reuse. One thing her mother had taught her well was how to make sweet tea and she made pitcher after pitcher of it whenever she had a moment free from dishes.

Several hours later, with prepackaged items divided into organized groupings on the counter for tomorrow’s preparation, all that was left was to let the meat finish cooking so the pies could bake.

The three women made themselves glasses of sweet iced tea, Rosaries officially removed her apron, and they retired to the patio just outside the back door. They took seats at the cast-iron table and cooled themselves with the frosty tea and a subtle late afternoon breeze. The sound of the television, watched by Tom and Rich, floated out to them but it was a pleasant background murmur, not intrusive at all.

Shay studied the attractive, highly functional courtyard that the Hughes family had created outside the kitchen door. Though situated next to the door so groceries could be easily unloaded from vehicles, the gravel drive gave way to soapstone flagstones as the drive passed the house. The patio covered a thirty- or forty-foot circular area that stretched from the side of the house proper across to the scrubby, forested area, bordering the bayou on the far side and the clearing of the Hughes’ house lot. Surrounded by low Mexican palms and other luxurious greenery Shay could never hope to identify, the patio bore several tables and a half dozen redwood benches set into mulched rows along the house wall. Beyond the patio, toward the back was the glorious product of Liza’s green thumb.

Rosaries studied Liza’s garden as it stretched out before them. “I don’t know how this is,” she said gently. “You have the gift,
certainment
.”

Liza nodded and took Shay’s hand, just to connect. “Some people cook. Some people talk to dogs. Some people grow. Now I just need to get some people to harvest. I’m trying to wrap my head around getting the Meadows workers down here at just the right times.”

“Oh, because the crops ripen at different times,” Shay nodded her understanding.

“Yep.” Liza nodded in return and lifted her tea. “It’s not cost effective for them to bring the trucks here so many times and leave them while the workers pick. We use those trucks every day for pickups and deliveries. I need to talk possibilities over with Gina, but I guess I’ll wait until after the holidays.”

“But will the plants wait?” Rosaries commented archly.

Liza shrugged. “Some are ready now but not much I can do about it.”

Shay scratched her chin. “Liza, I was just thinking...what if you got up with Ro and maybe used some of the mission people to pick? I mean, they are homeless and not working...”

If someone had hit Liza in the back of the head with a shovel, her expression couldn’t have been more shocked than by Shay’s idea. She could not believe the notion had never occurred to her in all her agony over getting the crops handled properly. Her mind whirled with new possibilities.

Rosaries watched the two of them. She chuckled and sighed. “Liza,
montrès cher,
in this one you have found a...a
camaraded’âmie.
”

Liza laughed and nodded her agreement, yet remained distracted as her attention still circled around preliminary plans for Meadows South. A pleasant silence fell.

Shay fumed, however, growing ever more petulant. “Well,” she said finally, after many minutes had passed. “What does it mean?”

Liza shook herself from reverie and laughed. She pulled Shay’s hand closer. “She says we’re soul mates. Something we already knew.”

CHAPTER FORTY

“Okay, here’s the deal. After you feed and water in the afternoon, take her up to the house and tie her to the porch railing. Do you have the bow? Be sure and put it on the back of the new collar so she can’t chew it. Umhmm, it’s in the drawer under the cat kennels, on the right.”

Liza sat curled into a fetal position in one of the kitchen chairs, a hot cup of coffee cradled in her free hand. Her other hand held her cell. Shay, she hoped, was still asleep in Liza’s bedroom, snuggled next to the pillow Liza had pressed to her as she left the bed. It was only six o’clock, but Liza knew this would be the best time to talk with Chris, who was at the shelter caring for the animals. It had been several years since Carol and Paul
had
both been able to take the morning shift off on a holiday and Liza was ever grateful to Christine for that.

She gave directions to Shay’s house and quickly signed off before someone came into the kitchen and caught her. It was just in time too, for
Mémé
appeared in the doorway. “
Bonjour,
Liza. You are early this day.”

Liza studied her grandmother, who was already dressed for the day in casual slacks, a bright blue blouse and pearls at ears and neck. She even wore low heels. Liza felt way under dressed in her pajama shorts and T-shirt. “Yep, thought I’d get an early start on the cooking.”

“How did the bird do the night?” Rosaries poured a cup of coffee and then fetched milk from the refrigerator. She drank her coffee as Chloe did, with lots of milk and sugar.

Liza uncurled herself and moved over to the large industrial cooler situated by the refrigerator. Lifting the top a fraction, she slid her hand inside. “Still cold. Works every year, especially after we got those larger ice blocks.”

“My Sienna was no fool,” Rosaries stated as she seated herself at the table.

“I wish she could have met Shay,” Liza said, resuming her seat. “Do you think she would have liked her?”

“
Oui, certainment
. My Sienna think like me, what’s not to like? Beautiful, sweet girl. If you happy, Sienna will be good with it.”

Hearing this meant a lot to Liza. No one knew Sienna as well as her own mother. An only child, Sienna and her mother
had been best friends.

Liza rose, cup in hand, and briefly embraced her grandmother with one arm. “Well, I’ll go shower and see how that beautiful, sweet girl feels this morning. We need to start getting the rest together because the hungry brood’ll be here soon.
”

“
Bon
,” Rosaries agreed as she stood and buried her head in the crowded fridge seeking breakfast fixings.

Upstairs, Shay slept on, exactly where Liza had left her. She looked adorable, her body curved into a sprawling letter C around Liza’s pillow. Liza watched her for some time, noting how the deep copper-rust of her hair seemed so brilliant against the white of the bed linens. Having Shay in her bedroom thrilled Liza for some odd reason. It was as if having her in this central point of Liza’s private life somehow magically pulled Shay into a deeper level of importance. Liza felt draped in grateful revelry. They were so fortunate to have found one another. Maybe all the bad that had happened to Shay was for this reason, to bring her to this place of rightness. Liza knew one thing for certain. She’d spend the rest of her life making sure that no one ever hurt Shay again.

Liza sighed and set her coffee to one side. She slid into the bed and pulled Shay to her, the pillow between them.

“I wondered how long you were going to stand there watching me,” Shay murmured. “Make any grand decisions?”

Liza drew back in surprise. “I thought you were still asleep!”

Shay rolled onto her back, throwing her left arm wide. She groaned loudly. “I was until some lead foot came in bearing the wonderful scent of coffee.”

“Would you like some?”

Shay opened one eye and peeped at Liza. “Of yours?”

“Of course, or you can have your own...” She noticed Shay’s randy glance and stilled. “Oh no you don’t, Rich’s room is right next to this one.”

“Hmm, guess you’re right. Your grandmother would be embarrassed by the sounds we’d make.” She sighed in frustration.

“Actually,
Mémé is
the kitchen...” She reconsidered. “Nope, too much to do. Bad woman, trying to lead me down the path of debauchery.”

Shay laughed and tried to rise but fell back. “Ouch! That tumble I took did a number on me.”