Trish sucked in her breath as Noah approached the table once more. “That’s got to be him. Dark hair?”
“And flannel shirt.” As always. Funny how it never used to annoy her so badly.
“Mmm, like the guy in those paper towel commercials.” Trish made atskingsound. “I’d have been flustered too, sister.”
Elisa frowned, pulling back from the window to glare at her friend. “Not like that.”
Delia coughed, and Elisa shot a warning look over her shoulder. “Mama Delia, you got something in your throat over there?”
She hummed. “Don’t mind me. Just wondering how long your nose is going to grow.”
Trish let out a burst of laughter. Elisa turned back as Noah looked up—straight at them. “Duck!” She grabbed Trish’s wrist and yanked her down.
Delia kept talking, as if her two best employees weren’t currently performing deep squats in front of the kitchen doors. “When did you see Noah last, honey?”
“Twelve years ago?” Elisa shifted her weight, waddling like a crab away from the window before she resumed standing. “He came to town for his grandfather’s funeral six months ago, but we didn’t attend.” Bergerons and Heberts never expected that of each other.
So yeah, she hadn’t been privy to Noah up close and personal in about twelve years now, Yet today, she’d been close enough to count the hairs forming his not-even-close-to-five-o’clock-yet shadow to notice the few that were already turning gray in a sophisticated lumberjack-type way…
Bless it, hewaslike that paper towel guy.
“So what did Noah do when you flirted with him?” Trish performed the same side-step crab walk away from the door, amusement lighting her freckled face as she awaited Elisa’s answer.
“I didn’t flirt.”
Confusion etched between Trish’s brows. “But you flirt with everyone.”
Elisa bristled. “That’s different.”
“Why don’t you take Noah a plate of pancakes? To apologize for the spill.” Delia plated a short stack from the oversized griddle next to the stove. “I’ve got a few ready right over here.”
“Me or her?” Elisa and Trish pointed at each other as they spoke simultaneously.
“I’ve been called many things in my years, but never a busybody.” Delia lifted her chin as she returned to her beans—a special recipe that was the perfect side for the café’s famous Cajun breakfast tacos. “I’ll let you two decide.”
“I like paper towels.” Trish grinned.
“Be my guest.” Elisa gestured toward the diner, ignoring the completely misplaced twinge of jealousy sparking through her veins.
Delia waited until Trish had backed out the swinging door, plate in hand, before catching Elisa’s eye. “Seems to me those proverbial tulips you mentioned earlier aren’t the only things affected by Noah’s presence today.”
“Delia.” Elisa tossed her apron on the counter and crossed her arms. “He’s a Hebert. Not to mention the last person I’d ever trust again.”
“Hebert, hmm? Sounds a little like ‘Montague’if you ask me.” Delia pointed at her with the spoon again, thick sauce dripping back into the stock pot. “Ms.Capulet.”
“You know how it is with our families. Most kids got bedtime stories growing up.” Elisa yanked open the dishwasher door, desperate to do something productive. “I got stories about the feud between the Bergerons and Heberts.”
“You’re doing that thing where you angry clean.” Delia cranked off the burner and turned to face Elisa. “Which means—youarestill hung up on this man.”
Elisa grabbed a plate from the stainless steel sink opposite the stove, providing the perfect opportunity to turn away from Delia’s all-knowing assessment. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m an old woman. I can be anything I want.”
“What’s that?” She hastily loaded two more plates, the dishes clinking together. “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you, Delia.”
Not deterred, Delia simply raised her voice. “I pay someone else to do that.”
“As the manager. I oversee all operations—including labor.” Elisa jammed another coffee mug onto the top rack. Delia had given her a job as a waitress in her late teens, cheered for her when she went off to culinary school with the dream of one day starting her own restaurant, and welcomed her back with open arms into a management role when all those dreams—and her heart—had dissolved. She owed Delia a lot. The Magnolia Blossom Café felt like home because of the woman’s generosity and kindness.
