Page 4 of Landry (Bayou Brotherhood Protectors #7)

“Girl!” Amelie Aubert hugged Camille. “What a night!” She’d stopped by on her way to her bakery to wish Camille a good morning. When Camille told her what had happened the previous night, Amelie stayed longer, insisting on helping with packaging candies. “I should’ve been there with you.”

Camille shook her head. “Ava and I are okay. There’s not much you could’ve done. Besides, Deputy Clyburn escorted us home.”

“Yeah, but the open window and Ava’s description of the monster have me freaked out. Are you sure you don’t want to come stay with me for a few days?”

“That’s not necessary,” Camille insisted as she went back to work arranging chocolates on display trays. She glanced toward the storeroom. “Let’s talk about something less disturbing. Ava might be listening.”

Amelie nodded. “Right. Of course.” She drew in a deep breath, forced a smile and asked, “On a more positive note, are you going to submit an entry in the parish fair pie competition this year?”

Amelie tied a bright blue ribbon around a box of Camille’s chocolate, caramel and pecan clusters for Sheriff Bergeron’s birthday.

Camille nodded, half a smile pushing up the corners of her mouth. “You bet. I’m making a special pie just for the event. I can’t let you take first prize five years in a row.”

Amelie smiled confidently. “Aren’t you precious, getting all competitive and such.”

Although she was tired from the drama of the night before, Camille still loved teasing her friend, Amelie.

The Bayou Bakery owner was the best baker in the parish, and nothing Camille could produce in the pie category would come close to what the renowned French pastry chef could concoct.

Still, she liked their friendly sparring, a skill she’d honed after years of being a doormat in her doomed marriage to a criminal.

Camille had spent the past five years building herself and her business up from the ashes of her marriage to the jewel thief and the subsequent depths of despair of landing in a women’s shelter with a three-month-old infant.

“I’m glad you’re entering the competition. I think your pie-baking skills have come a long way from when you made your first sweet potato pie.” Amelie’s lips twitched as she fought to keep from smiling.

Camille lifted her chin, finally able to laugh at her own clumsy attempts at baking a pie when her skills were clearly more suited to making candy and chocolates.

Many of her special treats were recipes she’d learned from her mentor, Bayou Mambaloa’s resident Voodoo Queen, Madam Gautier.

She’d been sworn to secrecy about the ingredients only she, Madam Gautier and her granddaughter, Gisele, were privy to.

She’d met Gisele when the Mamba Wamba Gift Shop owner had volunteered time at the women’s shelter those five years ago.

Gisele had helped Camille fill out job applications, which had helped her land a part-time job at the Crawdad Hole Bar and Grill in Bayou Mambaloa.

She’d made enough in tips to cover daycare for her baby and pay a discounted rent while rooming with Gisele over her shop.

When Camille hadn’t been waiting tables at the Crawdad Hole, Gisele and her grandmother had taught her how to make the best candies in the parish.

Gisele, a business owner and entrepreneur, had seen in Camille the drive and hunger to improve her life and provide for her young daughter.

She’d enlisted her grandmother’s help and skills to come up with a way for Camille to build her own business to the point she’d had her own store for a couple of years now and was selling candies online and to businesses in New Orleans and Baton Rouge, under her store name, Sweet Temptations.

“I’ll have you know,” Camille said with a smile, “I have a secret weapon for the pie competition. I’ve been perfecting the recipe over the past few months. I think I’m ready to take you on.”

“Bring it.” Amelie tied the bow on the box and pushed it across the counter. “And while you’re at it, are you entering the pralines and peanut brittle contest?”

“You bet I am,” Camille said.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll make an enemy out of Nadine Dumond?”

Camille shrugged. “She’s so well established as the queen of pralines and peanut brittle, it won’t hurt her in the least.”

“If you start making and selling pralines and peanut brittle, you might put her out of business.”

Camille frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s enough demand for pralines and brittle for both of us.”

“But pralines and peanut brittle are all she produces. Whereas you make the most magical chocolates, taffy and hard candies in the parish, if not all of Louisiana.”

“It’s just a parish fair. I’ve been working on my recipes for pralines and brittle as long as I have the one for the pie.”

“Are you using some of the special ingredients Madam Gautier provides?” Amelie asked, her gaze sliding sideways toward Camille.

“Not actually,” Camille answered. “And no, I’m not going to tell you what those ingredients are. I promised Madam Gautier and Gisele they would go with me to my grave.”

Amelie’s lips twisted. “I’d like to know what makes your candies so magical.”

Camille grinned. “What is it you claim for your specialties...? They’re made with love.

And, in your case, high-dollar training in a French pastry cooking school.

I still don’t know why you quit your high-paying job in New Orleans to set up shop here in Bayou Mambaloa.

Your talents are beyond this backwater town. ”

Amelie turned away, gathered her purse and slipped the strap over her shoulder. “More money doesn’t necessarily buy happiness.”

“No, but it’s easier to be happy when you aren’t living paycheck to paycheck with a young daughter depending on you for her next meal.” She looked around. “Speaking of which... Ava!”

Her five-year-old daughter emerged from the storeroom, carrying Fuzzy the bear and the rag doll Gisele had given her. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Auntie Amelie is leaving,” Camille said.

Ava, with her dark curls, ice-blue eyes and sweet smile, tucked her bear and doll beneath one arm and reached up with her free arm.

“Come give me some sugar.” Amelie bent to hug the little girl. “You get prettier and prettier every time I see you.”

“I look like my mama,” Ava said as she hugged Amelie around the neck.

“Yes, you do.” Amelie kissed Ava’s forehead. “Just as pretty, inside and out. Bring your mama by the bakery tomorrow. I’ll have your favorite petit fours.”

Ava smiled up at Amelie. “Strawberries and cream?”

Amelie nodded. “With caramelized fondant.”

Ava clapped her hands. “I can’t wait.”

“You spoil us.” Camille walked with Amelie to the door.

Amelie patted her purse. “Like you don’t spoil me with my favorite English toffee.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow.” Camille hugged Amelie and stood in the doorway watching her friend walk the short block to the Bayou Bakery.

Camille felt blessed to live in Bayou Mambaloa and have such good friends as Amelie and Gisele.

They weren’t the only friends she’d made in town.

She was lucky to have the sister squad of women around her age she could rely on to help her through rough patches, lend a shoulder to cry on and watch out for Ava when she had to be away from home.

It never ceased to amaze her how far she’d come from the homeless young mother without a friend in the world.

Camille went back to her work making more of the chocolate, pecan and caramel nuggets, filling the store with the scents that sold her products to new as well as repeat customers.

Ava retreated to the storeroom where she’d set up a tea party for her doll and bear, offering them some of the rejected pieces of candy that were too small, broken or without a sufficient chocolate coating.

Ava knew the rules. Her doll and bear could pretend to eat the treats as long as Ava didn’t and, by so doing, ruin her appetite for her dinner later that evening.

When the bell hanging over the entrance jangled, Camille jumped, still punchy from the night before. She glanced up from placing fresh chocolates in the glass display case.

Four tall, broad-shouldered men entered the store, jostling each other to be first, like frat boys at a beer keg. They laughed as they lined up in front of the displays of chocolate Camille had just restocked with a fresh supply of her tasty treats.

She recognized the men as members of the Bayou Brotherhood Protectors who’d moved into the area more than a year ago.

They’d taken over the old boat factory, modernized it and worked on making boats in between assignments involving protection, security or rescue and recovery of people in difficult situations.

Camille had met most of them through her friends when they’d gone for drinks at the Crawdad Hole, like last night, or when she’d been invited to a barbecue at the home of Remy Montagne and his wife, Deputy Shelby Taylor.

The tallest and most imposing of the four, Gerard Guidry, was engaged to her friend Bernie Bellamy. They lived on Bellamy Acres, raising livestock and produce.

Lucas LeBlanc had staked his claim on her friend, Felina Faivre, owner of Felina’s Flowers. Valentin Vachon and schoolteacher Ouida Mae Maudet were now officially engaged.

Camille smiled at Rafael Romero, Gisele’s husband. “Good afternoon, Rafael? What’s the special occasion that brings all of you here today?”

Rafael leaned close and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “We’re on a mission of mercy. We’re here to help save a friend.”

Camille cocked an eyebrow. “What’s the problem?”

“Our buddy needs a special gift for his lady love, and he can’t go home without one,” Lucas said.

The bell over the door rang again. All four men turned as one.