“Not a single one. Let’s dig in.” She sat down, filled her plate, and picked up the Tabasco sauce. “I like a little kick in my peas.”
Jolene reached for it when she finished. “It’s the Cajun in us. We might not have put personal roots down in southern Louisiana, but that’s where our heritage is.”
“You got that right.” Dotty smiled. “So how come you haven’t married? Your aunt Sugar wants grandbabies. I told her that they’d actually be her great-nieces and nephews, but she wasn’t havin’ none of that talk.”
“Came close,” Jolene said. “But then I found his evil streak.”
Dotty’s eyes turned to slits. “Did some bastard lay a hand on you?”
“No, but he stole my debit card, cleaned out my bank account, and left with the few pieces of good jewelry that had belonged to my mother. His name was Johnny Ray and he was an alcoholic. You’d think I’d learn a lesson from having to deal with Mama, but he was tall, dark, and handsome, and he was a charmer.” Jolene flashed back to the first time she’d met Johnny Ray. His sexy blue eyes had looked across the bar at her as if she were the only woman in the whole place. By the time they’d had their last argument over his drinking, those same blue eyes had been shooting daggers at her. She shook the memories from her head and smiled at Dotty. “This is so good. It reminds me of going to visit my dad’s folks down around Lafayette. Thanks for inviting me.”
Dotty raised her glass. “To love and prosperity in the new year.”
Jolene clinked glasses. “I’ll settle for prosperity. I make bad choices when it comes to that love stuff.”
“Oh, come on now. Don’t judge all men by one rotten apple. And besides, you know the Magnolia has magic hidden in the walls. Sugar always told us that, and I believe her,” Dotty scolded. “Tell me, though, after all that you went through, didn’t you ever think about a therapist? I saw one after Bruce died.”
“I did see a real one a couple of times after Mama died. Just didn’t feel right. Maybe it was too soon or maybe it wasn’t soon enough. Went to a few of those Al-Anon meetings for kids a few times, too. I don’t know, Dotty. But I know one thing—it’ll take magic and miracles both for me to ever let another man into my heart,” Jolene said.
“Well, the future is what it is, and we can’t change it any more than we can change the past,” Dotty said.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, and then Dotty said, “I wonder how far Sugar and Jasper got today.”
Jolene nodded. “They were hoping to get about halfway down Louisiana. I bet Aunt Sugar is making peas and greens, though.”
“You can count on it. We old southern women do things right.” Dotty handed a plate of corn bread across the table. “You better have another piece to go with a second helping of black-eyed peas for good luck.”
“I sure will—this is really good, Dotty. I appreciate the friendship, the food, and the job. After that meeting with Reuben, I needed all of it.”
“Oh, honey, that’s what friends are for—to share in the joys and half the sorrows.” Dotty smiled.
“That mean you aren’t going to throw salt in the shape of a cross when I leave?” Jolene asked.
Dotty laughed so hard that tears came to her eyes. “That’s a Cajun superstition for sure—I wish it would keep certain people away from my house. Are you going to get out the salt for Reuben when you get home?”
“Yep, but according to him, he will never set foot in Jefferson again,” Jolene said.
“Well, there, chère, is your first miracle, now isn’t it?” Dotty said.
It was the middle of the afternoon when Jolene left. After lunch, Dotty had shown her all the basics of the bar. The primary difference between the Tipsy Gator and the Twisted Rope was the location of the liquor bottles. At the Twisted Rope, Jolene could reach for the whiskey, the tequila, or the gin blindfolded. It would take a few weeks at the Tipsy Gator to get that familiar with things.
Five miles south of town, she turned left, inched down the lane to the big Victorian-looking inn set back in the tall pines, and parked the truck among them. She plopped down on the porch swing and set it in motion with her foot. How