customers stretching away, many leaning left or right to take selfies in front of my truck. He says, “Oh, you have quite the business here, friend. But suppose Marlene decides she’s had enough? Or your feet and joints start aching too much? Or your lungs start acting up because of all the smoke and grease you inhale?”
Marlene leans out the window, gives me a sharp glare that says, Get your ass back in here and get to work!
“I’ll figure it out then, I guess,” I say. “I don’t think any kind of official police work is going to be in my future…I burned a lot of bridges, insulted too many higher-ups along the way.”
“And also along the way, you saved hundreds—if not thousands—of lives,” Gordon says. “Here.” He passes me a manila envelope from a pouch on his wheelchair.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Your future, if you want it,” he says. “The application for becoming a licensed private investigator in the great state of Louisiana. It’s not a cakewalk, Caleb. There’s an intensive forty-hour course, followed by a rigorous exam. And if you pass, congratulations, you have to work for a sponsoring agency for six months before taking on any of your own cases.”
I gingerly hold the envelope. It should feel heavy with all of the paperwork inside, but instead it feels as light as a feather.
“You think I have what it takes to be a private investigator?” I ask.
“After the events of the past few weeks, I do,” he says. “And so do many others. I’ve gotten numerous phone calls, inquiring if you were available to help in some…complex cases. And Caleb, I’d be honored to be your sponsor when the time comes.”
I nod. “I’ll think about it.”
“I know you will,” he says, smiling. “In the meantime, how long are you going to make a poor cripple like me wait for some food?”
“Not long, I promise,” I say, turning, and instantly realizing I’ve just uttered a lie to my old friend.
Because Vanessa is standing at the rear of Killer Chef.
I go up to her and she nearly leaps into my arms, hugging and kissing me, and I hug and kiss her back.
“Hold on,” I say, laughing. “I must stink of sweat and grease.”
She kisses me again. “And you think I care?”
We break apart, but not too far apart. My chest is hurting after that hug, and I couldn’t care less.
“I’m hoping you don’t,” I say.
Wearing jeans and a white blouse, she looks positively angelic. Her blond hair looks like spun gold, her simple clothes can’t hide her curvy body, and her smile is the true expression of someone who has stepped onto a new path of life and love.
“Lucky for you, you’re correct, Mr. Rooney,” she says. “I know you’re busy, but do you have time for one of our famous walks?”
“I’ll make the time,” I say, tearing off my apron. I open the rear door and shout in, “Mar, I’ll be gone for a couple of minutes! Make sure you give Gordon whatever he wants, on the house!”
I drop the apron and envelope on the truck floor and Marlene shouts back, “Make it quick or I’m coming after you with that shotgun, and this time, I won’t miss!”
We start to take a quiet walk down Esplanade Avenue, a wide boulevard lined with stately, stunning old homes. Before long, our hands find each other’s, our fingers intertwine.
“I never said thank you,” she says. “For, you know, everything.”
“That’s because you didn’t have to,” I say.
“If it weren’t for you, I’d still be trapped,” she says. “Stuck in a job I hated. Married to a man I despise.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“It’s true, Caleb. You didn’t just save this city. You saved…me.”
We stop walking under the shade of a gently swishing oak tree. I turn to her and slip my hands around her waist.
“You’re a lot stronger than you realize, Vanessa. You deserve nothing but the best in the world. You would have found a way to get it.”
She smiles at me and leans in.
“I think I already have. Scratch that. I know I have.”
Under the spreading oak trees, we kiss and kiss, and then I hear the honking of Killer Chef’s horn.
She laughs. “I see Marlene is calling you back.”
“Great food and great customers can never be denied,” I say.
She takes my hand, gives it a loving squeeze, and starts to gently propel me back to the place I love most.
“Come on,” she says, “I’ll lend a hand…if you want.”
I