Chapter 12:

Bloodlines

"Miss me, Beau?!" Hallie asked, collapsing into the seat across from the humored young man.

"Every second you were gone, Sugar-Pops," Beau returned, giving Cap a wink. The bright-eyed Cajun then got up and pulled out chairs for Trixie and Honey, making sure the freckled girl took the one next to his.

Putting down the awkward coffee maker box, Honey noted that Josette's was positively charming.

The cafe, though small, was bright. The filigree tables and chairs, which had been crafted from black wrought iron, sat nestled close together on a black and white tiled floor. But the eatery didn't feel crowded, rather open and airy, as it was currently in that slow period that fell between breakfast and lunch.

Ms. Benoit was nowhere in sight, and Beau explained that his mother was in the back, preparing the teenagers a special treat. "Mom's frying up a batch of beignets," he said. "Wait until you taste them. They're out of this world."

Trixie glanced up at the small chalkboard on the wall containing the daily menu. The puzzled girl hoped it might clue her in to what beignets were. But alas, no such luck. So feeling somewhat silly, she asked.

And Hallie smacked those thin lips of hers. "It's a pillow of pastry dusted in powdered sugar," she explained as her stomach growled with anticipation. "Josette's are the best around, Cuz. She's known for them."

"Ms. Benoit's beignets are almost as famous as her Po-boy sandwiches," Cap added. "If we had more time, I'd suggest we hang around until lunch. Imagine crispy fried shrimp piled high on a French baguette, topped with lettuce, tomato, and creamy remoulade sauce. Man, oh, man! They're enough to knock your socks off!"

Honey reached for the glass of icy lemon water, which Beau had preordered for her. "The sandwiches sound delicious," she said after taking a sip of her drink. "And very filling. We'll have to come back when Mart is with us. He's good at polishing off my plate if I can't finish."

Trixie was giggling, wondering if Mr. Bottomless-pit might not have had his fill of seafood lately, when a slight woman with pronounced cheekbones came up and set a basket of powdery pastries on the table.

"Sweet-Thing, Goldilocks, meet Mom," Beau said as he reached a sugary fritter.

Mrs. Benoit smiled and returned a straying lock to her twisted up-do. Josette was a delicate, elegant woman with jet-black hair. And Trixie and Honey both wondered how she'd ever gotten hooked up with the likes of Bernie.

"You must forgive my son's manners," Ms. Benoit told the Sleepyside girls once they'd revealed their true names. "I'm afraid he not only inherited his father's good looks but also many of his wolfish tendencies."

Trixie very nearly choked on her first bite of beignet. "Bernie's good looks?" she gasped. The gobsmacked girl then slapped her hand over her mouth, realizing she'd been rude.

But Ms. Benoit simply laughed. "Beau's the spitting image of his father when he was his age," she revealed. "Bernie was quite the catch in his day. Only he's lived his life hard," Josette added wistfully. "And the Bayou is no gentle mistress. She takes her toll on those who cling to her breast." The refined woman then eyed Beau as if she'd been issuing him a motherly warning.

And the Louisiana young man reddened. "Ah, Mom, cut the poetic stuff," he said. "I'm not going to end up like Dad."

In reply, Josette crossed her arms and frowned. Her demeanor, which had been light and friendly, had suddenly become suborn and stern. And Trixie grinned. She decided she liked Beau's mother.

"Don't be so sure," Ms. Benoit warned, narrowing her eyes. "Do you think your father thought he'd end up like your Grandmother Shelly? When she was eighteen, she was first runner-up in the Miss Louisiana pageant. Now just look at her."

Suddenly, Trixie recalled the uncanny resemblance between Mrs. Foret and Bernie. Hallie had implied the straggly pair weren't related. But surely the name was no coincidence?

And as it turned out, it wasn't.

"Sure-Shot Shelly is no grandmother of mine," Beau insisted, slamming a fist on the table, which sent the silverware atop it jumping. "When she married ol' man Foret? That put an end to that, Mom. You know Dad cut her from our family. She's a member of the enemy now."

Ms. Benoit set her jaw, clearly upset with her son's reply. "Shelly's still your flesh and blood," she replied through clenched teeth. "Don't you forget that, Beau. It is far time that ridiculous feud between the Benoits and the Forets ended."

And Hallie harrumphed. "Tell that to the Forets," she butted in. "They're feudin' with the LeBlancs too, don't forget. Those good-for-nuthin's are the ones who are stirrin' up the trouble, Josie," she added through a mouthful of beignet. "And if you don't believe me? Just get a load of this…"

The Idaho girl then proceeded to tell Ms. Benoit and the boys about Charlotte's claim that Lucien and Augustin Foret had accused Papa of being Bayou Chevrette's alligator rustler. "The weasels even said Papa tried to shoot 'em!" she finished.

"Oh dear, that certainly won't help matters," Ms. Benoit said as Hallie reached for her drink. "Beau and Cap were telling me your grandfather was out guarding his lines and took a spill this morning."

"Don't you mean out appeasin' the spirits of the swamp when a Rougarou jumped him?" Hallie snorted in her water.

Trixie tried not to grin but failed miserably when she noticed Josette crack a smile.

"Ah yes, if the wind blows ill, it's the Rougarou's fault," Ms. Benoit sighed. "Nothing like having a good scapegoat to pin your problems on, now is there? I overheard the rumors at breakfast," she confessed.

Honey took the napkin from beside her plate and laid it across her lap. "So you don't believe in the Rougarou?" she asked Beau's mother, helping herself to a pastry. "Your husband was telling us that he was attacked by one of the creatures coming home from a party one night. Mr. Benoit said he couldn't talk about the incident for a year and a day for fear of becoming a beast himself."

Josette moved to refill the teenagers' water glasses. "A year and a day? My husband couldn't keep quiet for twenty-four hours," she revealed with a harrumph. "When Bernie called me from the jailhouse that evening, he tried telling me that he'd stabbed Bruce Foret because Bruce was a Rougarou. Apparently, the drunken fool had told the sheriff that he and Bruce had been fighting over Francine Boudreaux. But I have it on good authority, from an eyewitness to the scuffle, that the pair had been vying to see who was going to walk Camille LeBlanc home after doing the two-step with her that night. Camille was still married to Hallie and Cap's Uncle Sam at the time, but Sam hadn't gone to the dance," she explained. "There was no Rougarou involved. The only wolf present was my husband; I'm sad to say."

But Beau disagreed. "Dad wouldn't have gone to see Madam Dupart unless Bruce Foret had been under the Rougarou's curse," he argued.

Only Ms. Benoit waved her son off. "Your father had had too much to drink at the fais do-do," she replied dryly. "The last time he was three sheets to the wind, he reported seeing a polka dot elephant skipping through the swamp."

As the teenagers snickered, Hallie gave Honey a nudge. "So ya see, Hon, you can stop your worrin'," she said. "Like I keep tellin' ya. There's no such thing as a Rougarou. Accordin' to Mama Marie, that big bad wolf is comin' after Cuz and me next," she told Ms. Benoit and the boys with a laugh.

Beau, who'd been taking a swig of his icy drink, audibly gulped. "Where did you run into her?" he inquired, sounding concerned.

"Over at Swamp Mama's," the grinning girl replied. "Cuz was lookin' for a voodoo doll hopin' to put the whammy on Mart. While Buzz-Brain is off gator huntin', he expects his sister to be his errand girl. That's why we were at the Dinky Pinky. The warped weirdo wanted Cuz to get him some clam juice and neon pink food colorin'. If that isn't deservin' of a few pins, I don't know what is?"

Josette wondered if she'd misheard. "What an odd combination?" she remarked. "I frequently use clam juice in chowder and sauces, but neon pink food coloring? That's not a standard ingredient."

Trixie wished Hallie had kept her big mouth shut. Mart had made his sister promise not to mention his shopping list to the other boys. As the youngest male in the B.W.G.s, her brother was at the bottom of the young men's pecking list. And even Trixie had to admit that her near-twin took a lot of harassment. So if Mart wanted to come out on top? He had to be crafty about it. Hopefully, Cap and Beau wouldn't tell Jim and Dan about the crazy stuff his sister had picked up for him.

"You can say that again, Ms. Benoit," she replied with a sigh. "The Dinky Pinky only carries the die in primary colors. So we got red hoping it will work for whatever it is my kooky brother's cooking up."

Josette laughed, but as a group of ladies came through the door, carrying on like a gaggle of geese, she glanced up at the clock on the far wall with alarm. "Goodness. It appears the Saint Estelle Book Club has decided to get a jump on the lunch crowd," she said as the women began finding seats. "Beau, I hate to ask. But would you mind taking the ladies' orders while I get Pierre to fire up the grill? Sheila and Jessie are still on break." Pierre was Ms. Benoit's assistant chief, and Sheila and Jessie were her waitresses.

"Sure thing, Mom," Beau said, jumping up. "Those bookworms are great tippers," he added, giving his friends a wink. The sharp-looking boy then dashed to the back counter for an apron and order pad, and Josette excused herself before heading for the kitchen.

"Isn't Beau terrific?" Hallie sighed as the apple of her eye began chatting up the coquettish group of ladies. "He never minds givin' his mother a hand. And the customers go nuts over him."

"Especially the female ones," Cap added with a smirk.

And Trixie could see why. Beau appeared to be king of the schmoozers. She imagined those tips were going to be pretty big.

Only before she could comment, Mrs. Benoit returned to the teenager's table and handed Trixie a small squeeze bottle labeled "fuchsia".

"For a fellow culinarian," Josette explained as she adjusted the strap on her black bib apron. "You can tell your brother the shade is as close to neon as one can get. I think it'll suffice."

"Gleeps, Ms. Benoit, that's so sweet of you. But I can't take your food coloring," Trixie gasped.

"Of course, you can," Beau's mother laughed. "And you'd be doing me a favor. The silly bottle has been doing nothing but taking up space on my shelf. I bought it, thinking I might use it during Mardi Gras season three years ago. But I never even popped the seal."

"Well then, the least I can do is to pay you a little something," the Sleepyside Miss Belden insisted.

Trixie twisted to snag her purse, which she'd had slung over the back of her chair, but found her female cousin clinging to its strap.

"I have a better idea," Hallie announced, refusing to let go of the shoulder bag. "Why don't you and Josie just swap colors, Cuz? I bet she uses plenty of the red stuff, don't ya, Josie?"

Josette, who was quite accustomed to the Idaho girl intervening, chuckled, "I do indeed. And would you believe I was just thinking the other day that I would need to pick some up before Christmas rolled around?"

Only Trixie wasn't swallowing it. Ms. Benoit was being nice. But no, matter, Mart was going to be tickled pink - pun intended - that she'd been able to secure the neon die. So Miss Belden reached into the plastic shopping bag at her feet for the box of red coloring.

She and Josette were making their trade when Beau swaggered up and handed his mother his order pad. "The usual, Mom," he said with a grin. "You need me to fill drinks, or can you take it from here?"

Mrs. Benoit knew her son was anxious to be on his way, and she thanked him for pitching in. "You get out of here while you can," she replied. "Shelia and Jessica are due back any minute, and Shelia's dying to know if you have a date for the party at the Harmon's tonight. I told her I didn't think you planned to attend. Not with having to get up early to go hunting in the morning," she added as a piece of motherly advice.

"Charlotte, over at the Dinky Pinky, also wanted you to know she's looking for an escort," Honey innocently told Beau. Miss Wheeler hadn't heard the remark Hallie had made to Trixie.

And the sought-after boy smirked. "Charlotte still got blue hair?" he asked.

"Purple," the three girls replied in unison, causing Beau to laugh.

"Even better," he said, giving Cap a slap on the back. "Pony-Boy, it looks like you and I have a double date tonight. I'll take Charlotte, and I'll hook you up with Shelia. Shelia's a talker but not bad in the looks department. You won't even have to open your mouth."

That's when Hallie let out a big hoot. "Oh, Beau, you're such a kidder!" she cried, getting up from her chair. "Like you'd even consider takin' one of those silly girls when you've got the likes of me in town." The Idaho Miss Belden then looped her arm through the good-looking Cajun's staking her claim.

"Whatever you say, Sugar-Pops," Beau chuckled, giving Trixie a flick of the eye as he noticed her smirking. "Whatever you say."

The teenagers then thanked Ms. Benoit for the delicious snack. They were gathering their packages, preparing to depart, when Josette pulled her son aside by his shirt tail.

"Beau, has your father received his check from the insurance company yet?" Trixie overheard her asking. "I'm afraid I haven't talked to him for a few days, and I don't want the two of you overstaying your welcome with the LeBlancs."

The Sleepyside Miss Belden lifted a sandy eyebrow. So it hadn't been Ms. Benoit that Bernie had been texting down by the Bayou. And again, she wondered who it'd been.

Only Beau had just replied, "No, Mom," drawing the nosy girl's attention back to the Mother and son's private conversation. "Nothing's come yet," the Cajun boy went on. "But the Rogers haven't gotten their check either, and they've got the same Insurance Company as Dad. The agent told Mr. Rogers it could be a good month before they saw any money."

Mrs. Benoit sighed. "Another reason not to live on the Bayou," she murmured. "Well, remind your father that I have plenty of room if the two of you want to come and stay with me. In the meantime, be sure he's taking care of that arm of his. Does your father still have that awful cough?"

This time it was Beau who sighed. "Yes, Mom," he droned, running his fingers through his hair. "Which is why I'm sure Dad hasn't been in touch with you. You know he can't stand your nagging."

"I'm not nagging," Mrs. Benoit returned contritely, causing Trixie to wince. "I just care about the two of you."

The good-looking boy gave his mother a peck on the cheek. "I know, Mom," he said. "And we both love you for it. But really, the kids and I have got to get going," he insisted. "Pony-Boy and I have lines to run."

Josette's pretty brow wrinkled with worry. Moms had had that same look when Trixie, her brother, and her father had been saying goodbye. "Very well, but do be careful," she made him promise. "Alligators are nothing to play around with, young man. They're the true monsters of the swamp, not the Rougarou."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, Mom," Beau said, looking to make his getaway. "So you can stop your fretting. I'll call you when I get in. Oh, and before I forget. You can tell Shelia that I'll catch up with her later. I'm sure she'll come up with some way to thank me for those big tips," he smirked.

Josette picked up a stack of menus and swatted her son with them. "Oh, Beau, you're just terrible," she said. "Must you be so much like your father?"

The junior Mr. Benoit re-tucked the tail of his tee and checked his appearance in the reflection in the window. "Somethings are just in the blood, Mom," he chuckled before rejoining his friends. "That's what you get for marrying a wolf."

In the alley behind Josette's, where Beau had parked his pickup, Mr. Benoit again attempted to get Trixie to ride shotgun with him. Hallie had already taken a seat in the cab, and Beau suggested all three girls squeeze in like sardines. "Ah, come on, Goldilocks," he practically begged. "You know what they say. The more, the merrier. Besides, Pony-Boy likes his alone time."

As Cap rolled his eyes skyward, Trixie grinned. She preferred her breathing space too. "I think I'll stick to riding in the back," the young lady said. "I find the bed of the pickup just right," she added with a giggle.

Beau laughed and finally conceded, but that didn't mean he was giving up. "Hey Pony-Boy," he said, tossing the unsuspecting young man his keys. "How about taking the wheel and letting me have a turn riding in back? I think I'm missing out."

Chaplain, though tempted, returned the chunky keychain with a fling. "Sorry, Beau, as much as I'm dying to take this puppy for a spin, I've only got my learner's permit. Besides, I think it's time Honey got to feel the wind in her hair. Beats riding inside with my sister and Romeo," he told the apprehensive girl offering up his spot.

"Oh, I don't know," Honey said, nervously eyeing the pair of racy seats. "That's awfully nice of you, Cap. But I think I'll stick with the cab."

Cap, unhooking the truck's tailgate, relieved the pretty girl of the cumbersome coffeemaker box. "Last chance?" he offered, stowing the carton behind one of the wheel wells.

"Go on, Sweet-thing," Bea told Honey, finally tossing in the towel. "I'll go slow and stick to the main roads. You'll be fine," he promised.

But Honey still wanted no part of riding in the open air. "I guess I'm nothing but a big chicken," she admitted resignedly.

And at that, Beau let out an amused howl. "You, a chicken?" he returned, holding open the passenger door for a young lady. "Hardly, Sweet-Thing," he said. "I'd say your one of the bravest chicks I've ever met. Pony-Boy's told me about some of the tight spots Goldilocks has gotten you into. We're all scared of something. Me, I'm afraid of flying. You couldn't get me on one of those small private jets like your Pop's got. And Pony-Boy?" he added, as Honey slid in the truck, "He's petrified of girls. Or else he'd have asked you out already."

As Miss Wheeler's cheeks turned redder than the food coloring Trixie had traded Josette, the New York Miss Belden gaped at her male cousin.

"Is that true?" Trixie asked the Idaho boy.

"Just get in the pickup," Cap grumbled as he climbed aboard.

So it was true! Trixie had always found her middle cousin somewhat aloof. But now she had to wonder if part of Cap's standoffishness was really shyness. Only not wishing to drive her introverted relative further into his shell, Miss Belden decided to cut Cap a break and forget she'd heard the big reveal. Instead, Trixie clambered into the bed, at the same time wondering what Honey must be thinking.

But as the musing young lady twisted to get strapped in, she caught a fleeting glimpse through the rear slide window of Hallie giving Mr. Benoit a peck on the cheek. And again, she felt a strange queasiness rush over her.

Trixie wasn't certain why she felt the way she did. There wasn't anything wrong with kissing? In fact, there'd been a time or two when the young lady had hoped that Jim might give her a kiss. He hadn't. And even the thought left Miss Belden blushing uncomfortably. Still…maybe in there lie the problem?

"Your sister likes Beau a lot, doesn't she?" she asked Cap as the truck lurched and started making its way down the narrow alleyway.

The pony-tailed boy shifted uneasily. "You think?" he grunted with a hint of sarcasm. "Pretty creepy, huh? I was hoping Hal would come to her senses when Mangan showed up. But no such luck, I'm afraid. Don't tell me you're falling for the guy, too, Trix?" Cap added with a groan.

"Me? Oh, heavens no!" Trixie replied, her ear tips burning.

As the pickup swerved to miss a stray trash can, Miss Belden's cousin emitted a whew of relief. "Sure glad to hear that," Cap admitted. "Though I guess I should warn you, Trix. Lover-boy's certainly got his radar on you. According to Beau, you're just his type, and it bothers the dickens out of him that you won't give him the time of day. Mr. 'Oh-Beau-You're-Such-A-Kidder' is used to girls swarming all over him, in case you haven't noticed. And don't get me wrong. I'm not saying Beau isn't a good guy. But you and Hal are family, and I don't want to see either of you getting stung. Fellas around here tend to grow up fast if you know what I mean."

Trixie gulped, realizing now, at least partly, why Hallie's closeness with Beau bothered her so much. Her gorgeous cousin might look all grown up on the outside, but that didn't change the fact she was still younger than Trixie.

And Cap was right. If Hallie had had any brains, she would have stuck with Dan. There was just something wrong with a guy who openly flirted with one cousin while playing kissy-face with the other.

True, the young Cajun was awfully charismatic. But Mr. Mangan had his charms too. Just because Dan was the quiet type, it didn't mean he wasn't dashing and fun to be around. He was just modest about it, unlike Beau. Plus, you wouldn't catch Dan pitting the two girls against each other, oh no. Mr. Mangan respected a young lady's feelings.

Yes indeed. Hallie had made a big mistake. Why, Dan was almost as wonderful as Jim, now that Sleepyside girl thought about it.

"Do you want me to have a talk with Hallie?" Trixie asked Cap, hoping he'd say no. She wasn't really sure what she'd say.

"Knowing my sister, she'd probably think you're trying to get Beau all to yourself," the young man admitted. "Besides, Mom has already spoken to Hal and thinks we ought to let things run their natural course. Mom believes life is the best teacher, and my sister will grow from the experience."

"But what if that experience ends in heartbreak...or worse?" Trixie asked, unconsciously scratching at the bite on the tip of her nose, bringing a drop of blood.

"Then it ends heartbreak, or worse," Cap replied, offering up his handkerchief. "And so starts the next lesson, Trix."