Love Is Lovelier by Jean Brashear Read Free Book Online Page B

soothed but delighted. Celia was still assembling dishes and stirring pots in the way only veteran cooks could do, juggling ten things at once—but she was smiling and talking to Anne at the same time.
    He pushed open the wood a bit, so he could hear.
    “Miz Marchand, no one ever compared me to a French Quarter chef before,” Celia was saying.
    “Anne, please. I’m telling you that Remy was the bestI ever knew, but you’ve managed something with your spices on that shrimp that he would be gnashing his teeth over. He’d be begging you to come work with him, I can promise you that.”
    “Well, ain’t that just somethin’?” Celia shook her head. “You want the recipe, that it?”
    Anne laughed. “My daughter and her fiancé, who’s our chef now, would kill for it, but…no. What you have here is a treasure box of a place, Miss Celia.”
    “I can’t be calling you Anne if you won’t call me Celia.”
    “Celia, then.” Anne nodded, and William’s estimation of her only increased with the respect she’d accorded a woman who’d likely never even finished high school and was clearly several steps below her own exalted position in the very stratified society of New Orleans.
    “At any rate,” Anne continued. “I’d want to be the first to know if you ever got tired of running this place, yes indeed, because the Hotel Marchand would be lucky to have you. But I think you love what you’re doing, and I only barged in back here because I wanted to pay my respects in person.”
    “I thank you for that.” Celia nodded soberly. “I’m mighty honored. Remy Marchand was a legend in New Orleans food. But Mr. William gave me—”
    William pushed inside then. “Celia, my love, is this woman trying to steal you from under my nose?”
    “Now, Mr. William, you know I won’t never forget—”
    “Tonight’s shrimp is as magnificent as ever,” he interrupted before she could tell all.
    Anne shot him a look that said she was onto what he was doing. “William,” she said sweetly while her eyes twinkled. “Why don’t you just go on back out there while Celia and I finish our little chat.” She turned back to Celia. “Exactly what part has William played in this establishment, if you don’t mind my asking?”
    “Oh, I don’t mind at all. Mr. William believed in me when no one else would. I was cookin’ at the nursin’ home where his great-aunt twice removed stayed, and I was lucky to get that job ’cause I had a little trouble with the law, see, some years back.”
    “Celia, it’s not necessary—”
    She silenced him with a look. “Oh, yes, sir, it is. Fact is that I wanted my own place all my life, but I woulda settled for just workin’ in someone else’s restaurant, long as I respected the quality of the food.” She glanced sideways at Anne. “Someplace like Mr. Marchand’s woulda been my idea of heaven.”
    “Thank you. He would have appreciated that compliment from someone of your skill.”
    “Imagine that. Remy Marchand and Celia Dubois crossin’ paths.” Celia shook her head. “Anyway, Mr. Armstrong here, he heard Miss Letty goin’ on about my food so much that he came to see for himself one day when he visited. Long story short, next thing I know, he’s talkin’ to me ’bout my own place.” Her dark face split in a huge grin. “’Course I thought this is one crazy white boy, but no reason not to hear him out, was there?”
    William felt Anne’s perusal like a caress. He hadn’tbrought her here to learn this about him, but he was resigned now.
    “Of course not,” Anne murmured, still watching him.
    “Anyhow, he tried first to hire me for The Regency, but he has this fancy-face chef from France who didn’t want no part of me, I could tell, and I wasn’t out to cause trouble for Mr. William when he’s givin’ me a chance, after all. I asked him to let me do some cookin’ for him first, the kind I like to make, as a tryout.” The smile she aimed in his direction was bright