here at the Blue Moon. “But it didn’t mean anything.”
“You kissed him!” Cally sat back, clearly shocked. “I don’t blame you. He is totally hot.”
Marjo agreed with Cally’s assessment, but thatstill didn’t make it right to be fraternizing with the enemy.
“It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing,” Marjo said. “And it’s not going to happen again.”
“Uh-huh. That’s the same thing I say when I dip into a box of chocolates. I’m going to stop at one.”
“Well, this time I will. Getting involved with that man will only confuse the issue. I have enough going on, what with the effort to renovate the opera house and the CajunFest happening there in a little under two weeks.”
“Speaking of things you say won’t happen again, are you going to sing at the festival?” Cally asked.
Marjo was surprised by the question. “Me? Why? We have lots of great local talent. Nobody needs me.”
“That’s a crock and you know it. Heck, half the town’s been asking about you, wondering if you’ll sing.”
“It’s been years since I stood on a stage.”
“So? Just get up there, girlfriend, and use the gifts God gave you.”
“I am. At the Savoy.”
“Marjo,” Cally said, reaching for the friend she’d had ever since the two of them had met in Mrs. Langley’s kindergarten class, “when are you going to quit that funeral home and pursue what makes you happy?”
Marjo shook her head. “I’m thirty-five. I can’t be going after some pipe dream.”
“Now is the perfect time. Before you’re ninety and can’t remember the words to your own songs.”
Marjo laughed. “Tante Julia can remember every person she ever came in contact with, along with the words to some songs that shouldn’t be sung in mixed company.”
Cally rolled her eyes. Before she’d entered the nursing home, Marjo’s ninety-two-year-old aunt had been well known in Indigo for her compulsion to tell off-color stories at the worst possible time. Like during a wedding or a baby shower. Or, worst of all, at Tee Tim’s funeral. “Tell me she’s not performing at the festival.”
“Only as a backup singer,” Marjo joked.
“Seriously, Marjo, you should get up there. Show Indigo what you’ve got. You never know where it might lead. Like, out of this place.”
The waitress slipped the bill onto the table. Marjo laid some money on top, then rose, her food still mostly untouched. Her appetite for it had deserted her. “I have to get back to work. The Dufrene family is coming in at one and I need to put together some information for them.”
“Promise me you’ll think about it? In between thoughts of kissing Paul Clermont again, of course.” Cally winked.
“I’ll think about singing. But not Paul Clermont.”
“Uh-huh. That’s what they all say.” Cally gave her a grin.
After she left the diner and returned to work,Marjo tried not to think about what Cally had said, or about kissing Paul Clermont, but it didn’t work. No matter how busy she got, or how many times she straightened the furniture in the viewing rooms, both thoughts kept coming back, stubborn as thistle.
Particularly the one about kissing Paul.
What had gotten into her? How could she have risked upsetting the careful balance of her life? She had plans, plans that required she stick to a prescribed path if they were ever going to work out. Because Gabriel needed that security and there was no one to give it to him but her.
After work, she headed home, made supper for Gabriel and herself then set off for the restoration committee meeting at the Blue Moon Diner. Most of the usual members were already there, dining on sweets and coffee. At this rate, she might as well move into the back room in Willis and Estelle’s little restaurant.
Marjo looked around. Sophie Boudreaux was absent, but that was expected. Exhaustion from trying to keep up with her job in Texas, manage the antique shop and help raise Alain’s two children, combined with a
“You kissed him!” Cally sat back, clearly shocked. “I don’t blame you. He is totally hot.”
Marjo agreed with Cally’s assessment, but thatstill didn’t make it right to be fraternizing with the enemy.
“It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing,” Marjo said. “And it’s not going to happen again.”
“Uh-huh. That’s the same thing I say when I dip into a box of chocolates. I’m going to stop at one.”
“Well, this time I will. Getting involved with that man will only confuse the issue. I have enough going on, what with the effort to renovate the opera house and the CajunFest happening there in a little under two weeks.”
“Speaking of things you say won’t happen again, are you going to sing at the festival?” Cally asked.
Marjo was surprised by the question. “Me? Why? We have lots of great local talent. Nobody needs me.”
“That’s a crock and you know it. Heck, half the town’s been asking about you, wondering if you’ll sing.”
“It’s been years since I stood on a stage.”
“So? Just get up there, girlfriend, and use the gifts God gave you.”
“I am. At the Savoy.”
“Marjo,” Cally said, reaching for the friend she’d had ever since the two of them had met in Mrs. Langley’s kindergarten class, “when are you going to quit that funeral home and pursue what makes you happy?”
Marjo shook her head. “I’m thirty-five. I can’t be going after some pipe dream.”
“Now is the perfect time. Before you’re ninety and can’t remember the words to your own songs.”
Marjo laughed. “Tante Julia can remember every person she ever came in contact with, along with the words to some songs that shouldn’t be sung in mixed company.”
Cally rolled her eyes. Before she’d entered the nursing home, Marjo’s ninety-two-year-old aunt had been well known in Indigo for her compulsion to tell off-color stories at the worst possible time. Like during a wedding or a baby shower. Or, worst of all, at Tee Tim’s funeral. “Tell me she’s not performing at the festival.”
“Only as a backup singer,” Marjo joked.
“Seriously, Marjo, you should get up there. Show Indigo what you’ve got. You never know where it might lead. Like, out of this place.”
The waitress slipped the bill onto the table. Marjo laid some money on top, then rose, her food still mostly untouched. Her appetite for it had deserted her. “I have to get back to work. The Dufrene family is coming in at one and I need to put together some information for them.”
“Promise me you’ll think about it? In between thoughts of kissing Paul Clermont again, of course.” Cally winked.
“I’ll think about singing. But not Paul Clermont.”
“Uh-huh. That’s what they all say.” Cally gave her a grin.
After she left the diner and returned to work,Marjo tried not to think about what Cally had said, or about kissing Paul Clermont, but it didn’t work. No matter how busy she got, or how many times she straightened the furniture in the viewing rooms, both thoughts kept coming back, stubborn as thistle.
Particularly the one about kissing Paul.
What had gotten into her? How could she have risked upsetting the careful balance of her life? She had plans, plans that required she stick to a prescribed path if they were ever going to work out. Because Gabriel needed that security and there was no one to give it to him but her.
After work, she headed home, made supper for Gabriel and herself then set off for the restoration committee meeting at the Blue Moon Diner. Most of the usual members were already there, dining on sweets and coffee. At this rate, she might as well move into the back room in Willis and Estelle’s little restaurant.
Marjo looked around. Sophie Boudreaux was absent, but that was expected. Exhaustion from trying to keep up with her job in Texas, manage the antique shop and help raise Alain’s two children, combined with a
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