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“You are? How did you find out?”

Isabeau smirked. Not a smile. It was definitely a smirk.

“We can’t divulge our sources, but word does travel in the French Quarter,” Celine offered.

I only had vague memories of that because I’d been out of the Quarter, so to speak, for quite a while. It had been my brothers’ domain.

I laughed nervously. “I’m not sure what to say.”

“We didn’t have to corner the poor girl,” Celine said.

“We wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t so obvious,” Isabeau chastised her.

Both turned to look at me.

“We apologize,” Isabeau said. “I promise we didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. All you have to know about it is that we’re happy.”

Despite their disclaimer, I was feeling awkward. As I opened my mouth, a group of about ten people walked in.

“Right. I’ll send you all the financial information and some more samples,” I said as I headed toward the door. “Have a great day.”

“You, too, Grace,” Isabeau said. She was smirking again.

Oh goodness.Zachary did say his grandmothers were forces to be reckoned with. I should’ve taken him more seriously.

***

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of to-dos and meetings, but I did manage to send a huge batch of samples to Isabeau and Celine. By the time the evening rolled around, I was exhausted. However, I was also looking forward to dinner. Zachary texted me earlier in the day to ask when I wanted my food delivered. I’d replied that 6:30 p.m. was okay.

At 6:20 p.m., I was already glancing at the door more often than necessary. At 6:27 p.m., there was a knock at the door. The building had someone at the reception desk, but once visitors were cleared downstairs, they could come right into my office.

“Come in.”

The deliveryman entered and held up a take-out bag. “This is for you, miss.”

“Thank you.”

He put the bag on my desk, and I tipped him generously. I kept my composure until he left the room, then immediately dug into my bag of goodies.

“What did I get tonight?” I was excited. “Oh, jambalaya.” That was yet another favorite of mine. I loved Southern comfort food. Might not be the best for the figure, but I loved it too much to think about that.

I opened the container, then snapped a photo and sent it to Zachary. He called before I even managed to take a bite.

“What’s the verdict?” he asked as soon as I answered my phone.

“What are you talking about?” I asked nonchalantly.

“The jambalaya.”

“I haven’t tasted it yet.”

“All right. Then I’ll wait.”

I felt extremely jittery, almost as if he was right here with me, eyes trained on me, waiting for my reaction. I swallowed a huge spoonful and went directly to heaven.

“I’m impressed. I thought I’d tasted all the jambalayas in the area, but this one is hands down the best.”

“My grandmothers will be happy to know that. It’s their original recipe, and they’re convinced it’s the best there is.”