Gathering her handbag, she stood up and made her way to the entrance. The conversations stopped again as all eyes were trained on her. It was the first time in a very long time that she felt self-conscious. As ateenage girl she was always mindful whether her pants or tops were too tight whenever boys made ribald comments about her body. But as her body matured sheâd learned to accept her looks and who sheâd become.
Why, she asked herself as she stepped out into the bright sunlight, did she suddenly feel like an awkward teen who wanted to run home and change her clothes? It wasnât the first time men had stared at her in a pair of body-hugging jeans. However, it was the first time that a group of men had stopped talking to stare at her.
What made the men in southern Louisiana different from those in New England, other than they spoke a French dialect as well as English?
The questions bombarded Gwenâs mind as she waited for the ferryboat. Was it because she was a stranger? Was it because the Outlaw was traditionally a male establishment? Or was it because Shiloh had called her darling in front of other patrons?
Moving over to a wooden bench positioned under a sun-bleached striped canvas awning, she sat and stared out at the slow-moving water. Instead of the uneasiness sheâd experienced when seeing the murky swamp for the first time, she felt a wave of calm wash over her. It was as if sheâd escaped into a world where the stress and craziness of what she was familiar with no longer existed.
Time moved on in a pace that could not be measured by seconds, minutes or hours. The sound of the approaching ferryboat shattered the stillness of the afternoon. Gwen stood up and walked down to the pier. It was time she returned to the boardinghouse, checked out and went home.
She knew that dust, grime and the musty smell associated with long-shuttered houses awaited her. But she welcomed the challenge. She couldnât wait to begin Bon Temps â makeover.
CHAPTER 4
G wen worked nonstop around the clock, averaging five hours of sleep each night in order to make Bon Temps habitable. She knew she shouldâve hired a cleaning company, but considered the housework sheâd done therapy. She didnât have an office to go to, so airing, dusting, mopping floors and cleaning windows gave her a sense of purpose.
It took half a day to air out and clean the bedroom, sitting room and adjoining bath that sheâd selected for herself. A search of the pantry yielded a large tin filled with exotic teas, and as dusk descended sheâd sat on a cushioned love seat on the second-story veranda watching a cluster of fireflies illuminate the velvety darkness while listening to the unfamiliar nocturnal sounds.
The rest of the week was spent cleaning the other bedrooms, the kitchen and shopping in an upscale mall in Morgan City, twenty miles southeast of Franklin. It was the first time shechided herself for not having purchased a sport utility vehicle, considering how her trunk and the inside of her car now over-flowed with grocery bags and other household items.
A moving company delivered cartons filled with her clothes, favorite books, electronic equipment, CDs, DVDs, her computer, photographs and family mementoes. And once a telephone technician installed the data lines she needed for a telephone, computer modem, and fax machine, she finally felt in control of her life. Aside from her cell phone sheâd felt cut off from her family and friends.
Sitting at her computer, she opened a new document: Bon Temps Restorations. She wanted to replace the wallpaper throughout the house, reupholster sofas and chairs, repair and hang the magnificent living room and ballroom chandeliers, and repair the plasterwork on the ceilings. All of the wood floors and tables in the rooms on the first story were in need of refinishing. Bedroom closets overflowed with colorful dresses and costumes, suggesting that Gwendolyn
Why, she asked herself as she stepped out into the bright sunlight, did she suddenly feel like an awkward teen who wanted to run home and change her clothes? It wasnât the first time men had stared at her in a pair of body-hugging jeans. However, it was the first time that a group of men had stopped talking to stare at her.
What made the men in southern Louisiana different from those in New England, other than they spoke a French dialect as well as English?
The questions bombarded Gwenâs mind as she waited for the ferryboat. Was it because she was a stranger? Was it because the Outlaw was traditionally a male establishment? Or was it because Shiloh had called her darling in front of other patrons?
Moving over to a wooden bench positioned under a sun-bleached striped canvas awning, she sat and stared out at the slow-moving water. Instead of the uneasiness sheâd experienced when seeing the murky swamp for the first time, she felt a wave of calm wash over her. It was as if sheâd escaped into a world where the stress and craziness of what she was familiar with no longer existed.
Time moved on in a pace that could not be measured by seconds, minutes or hours. The sound of the approaching ferryboat shattered the stillness of the afternoon. Gwen stood up and walked down to the pier. It was time she returned to the boardinghouse, checked out and went home.
She knew that dust, grime and the musty smell associated with long-shuttered houses awaited her. But she welcomed the challenge. She couldnât wait to begin Bon Temps â makeover.
CHAPTER 4
G wen worked nonstop around the clock, averaging five hours of sleep each night in order to make Bon Temps habitable. She knew she shouldâve hired a cleaning company, but considered the housework sheâd done therapy. She didnât have an office to go to, so airing, dusting, mopping floors and cleaning windows gave her a sense of purpose.
It took half a day to air out and clean the bedroom, sitting room and adjoining bath that sheâd selected for herself. A search of the pantry yielded a large tin filled with exotic teas, and as dusk descended sheâd sat on a cushioned love seat on the second-story veranda watching a cluster of fireflies illuminate the velvety darkness while listening to the unfamiliar nocturnal sounds.
The rest of the week was spent cleaning the other bedrooms, the kitchen and shopping in an upscale mall in Morgan City, twenty miles southeast of Franklin. It was the first time shechided herself for not having purchased a sport utility vehicle, considering how her trunk and the inside of her car now over-flowed with grocery bags and other household items.
A moving company delivered cartons filled with her clothes, favorite books, electronic equipment, CDs, DVDs, her computer, photographs and family mementoes. And once a telephone technician installed the data lines she needed for a telephone, computer modem, and fax machine, she finally felt in control of her life. Aside from her cell phone sheâd felt cut off from her family and friends.
Sitting at her computer, she opened a new document: Bon Temps Restorations. She wanted to replace the wallpaper throughout the house, reupholster sofas and chairs, repair and hang the magnificent living room and ballroom chandeliers, and repair the plasterwork on the ceilings. All of the wood floors and tables in the rooms on the first story were in need of refinishing. Bedroom closets overflowed with colorful dresses and costumes, suggesting that Gwendolyn
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