Listen To Your Heart Read Online Free Page B

pretty—she was gorgeous, with her high coronet of snow-white braids and flawless complexion. Seventy if she’s a day, a youthtful seventy, Josie thought. There was a springiness to her step, and she was dressed in a swirling, colorful skirt with matching top. A straw hat with oversize sunglasses dangled from one hand, a Chanel bag from the other. She wore the diamonds in her ears and on her fingers like royalty. Josie estimated the total carat weight at around twelve or so. Possibly more. Brilliant straw sandals with two-inch heels and a diamond ankle bracelet completed her attire.
    Marie Lobelia smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling. Josie fell in love with her at that moment. She fought the urge to take her in her arms for a bone-crushing hug.
    â€œI love this,” the little woman said, waving her arms about. “It’s so peaceful, so colorful. I had no idea this was even back here.” She waved her arms again to indicate the cottage and the long, square building that made up the kitchens and catering center.
    â€œMy sister and I have only been here three years. Our parents operated the catering service until their death. There was a gas-line explosion that killed them. This has all been redone and landscaped. We added more flowers, some shrubbery, and we repainted the ladybugs and the cottage. I apologize for the condition of the carpet, but we had a bit of an accident this morning. I had to take the screen door to the hardware store for repairs and didn’t get to the floor. Step carefully.”
    The little woman waved her arms again to show that the condition of the floor was of no importance. She stepped through the door. “Was this building always here?” she twinkled.
    â€œYes. It was originally a potting shed, and when my sister and I were born, my mother had a room added to it and it became our playhouse. There are some wonderful memories attached to this little house. However, my parents never used it the way Kitty and I do. They had offices in the building in the back.”
    â€œIt’s cozy and comfortable,” Marie Lobelia said, sitting down in a white wicker rocking chair. “I’ve heard good things about your catering service,” she said, getting right to the point. “I called several times last year, but you were always booked up. I’d like to engage your services for two events. I want to host a small party on the Epiphany and of course I want the traditional King Cake. Tradition these days is to bake a tiny baby doll representing the baby Jesus into the cake, and whoever gets that particular piece hosts the next King Cake party. I prefer the old way. A pecan will do nicely in place of the baby doll. I want the traditional colors of Mardi Gras, green, yellow, and purple sugars used. I’m sure you’ve done this hundreds of times. I just like to make sure things are clear from the beginning.”
    â€œI grew up here, Mrs. Lobelia. My mother always made a King Cake for us on the Epiphany. There were parties every night until Mardi Gras ended. Now, tell me what else you would like for your party. How many guests?” Josie asked, her pencil posed.
    â€œA dozen or so. The usual: jambalaya, gumbo, etouffée, praline pie. Go easy on the Andouille since our stomachs aren’t what they used to be. I hope you have a good roux recipe. I prefer a dark roux. I want it all to be authentic. I’ll leave the appetizers up to you.”
    Josie scribbled furiously. “I have some excellent recipes. Before I make a decision, I’ll consult with you. You mentioned another engagement.”
    The diamonds on the tiny hands winked under the soft lighting. Josie leaned back in her swivel chair to better observe the little woman’s agitation at the simple statement.
    â€œYes. I’m not sure . . . What I mean is . . . I might possibly be making a mistake . . . It seems like the right thing to do and yet . . . Yes, I want to engage your