Searching For Treasure - By L.C. Davenport Page 0,40

that drop of sweat you were so fascinated with earlier?"

"Yeah?"

She raised her head and whispered in his ear seductively. "I've got more."

Less than an hour later, Dana leaped from her room wearing nothing but Jack's crumpled shirt. Flinging her arms out wide, she shouted to the world, "I love him! I love him! I love him!" She then dashed back into her room, the closing door muffling much laughter and giggles.

*****

When they appeared for dinner that evening, it was a different couple than who had come down for breakfast. Gone were the glittering looks of sexual discovery, replaced instead with besotted looks of love. Rose didn't even bother to tease them.

Because this was the last dinner they would be having together at Raven Keep Castles, Mrs. Babineaux had tried to make every effort to outdo herself. The table was beautifully set, as usual, and the sideboard was loaded to groaning with lamb chops broiled with bananas and pineapple, a rich seafood bouillabaisse, jambalaya, crawfish ettouffee, hopping john, dirty rice, candied sweet potatoes, and corn spoon bread. A steaming, fresh-from-the-oven blackberry cobbler served with dairy cream was for dessert. She also chose this night to finally make an appearance.

Bustling out of the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron, all five-feet of her, Mrs. Babineaux rushed up to Dana. "Oh, Cher, it's really you." She turned to the rest of the table, who were all staring at her as if a ghost had just appeared in their midst. "It's the Pickle Lady."

With some effort everyone tore their astonished gaze from Mrs. Babineaux and refocused it on Dana. In unison they repeated: "The Pickle Lady?"

"When Mr. Gaston tell me tha' lady whose pickles you like so much, she be sittin' at my table, I tells him go on wi' hisself. But I peek and I seen you picture on the com-poo-ter. An' it's you, Cher. The Pickle Lady."

Jack grinned. "I knew that picture would get you in trouble," he whispered to Dana.

At the questioning looks from her friends, Dana tries to explain. "It's my business. Remember I told you I sold jams and jellies online. I only dabble with pickles, though."

"O, she jus' bein' modest. Not tha' she don' put out some good spreads. Muscadine, mayhew, blueberry, blackberry, cinnamon apple, I gar- an-tee, tha's good eatin'. Bu' she make the best garden pickles I ever put a tooth around. An' her piccalilli, umm-umm, tha's good. I serve it wi' my turklin."

At this everyone looked to Oscar for translation. "Turkey" he mouthed silently.

"Well, I be gettin' back. I jus' wanted to tell, well, I be wantin' to shake your hand. You jus' been, o, Cher, I bin a fan of your pickles forever."

Dana was getting downright embarrassed by the effusive praise and by the suspicious glistening in Mrs. Babineaux's eyes. One would have thought pickles had changed her life. "Well, I, um…thank you, but I've only been making them for three years."

"Oh, foot, cher, you know wha' I mean." The tiny cook looked around at the rest of the table. "Look at yous folks, not eatin', wha' the food no good?"

Henry was the first to find his tongue. "The food is fabulous, Mrs. Babineaux, but, but, shoot fire, we thought you were a myth!"

"Oh, go on wi' youself." She shook her head and chuckled. "Mr. Gaston, you got some mighty strange folk sittin' at you table." She then bustled back into the kitchen out of sight.

Once the cook had disappeared, everyone looked at each other with a glazed look as if a force of nature had just visited them. Oscar and Josie simply grinned.

Compared to Mrs. Babineaux the rest of the meal was pretty anticlimactic. Soon Henry was pushing away his plate with a sigh. "I think I've done as much damage as I can do. Don't nobody look while I pop my buttons."

"Hey Oscar," called Rose, "this is our last night here. Do you have anything special planned?"

As they once again headed out to the courtyard after dinner, they learned that Oscar had planned a simple summer evening of old-fashioned socializing complete with homemade ice cream and lemonade. "I thought it would nice," he began uncertainly, "if we could all just relax and spend part of the evening together. Not to sound like an old fool, but I feel as if all of you have become good friends of mine."

Grace linked her arm with his and beamed at everyone. "I for one think there's nothing foolish about it. Because I feel the