“I never believe in coincidence,” Maurice said.
“Then it’s nothing.” Amelie pulled into a space and turned off the engine. “A lot of people come to New Orleans. He’s no different. It’s an interesting city with lots to offer.”
“What about the fact that your apartment in this city was vandalized as well?”
“That was nearly two years ago. I doubt there’s a connection between then and now.”
“Did they take anything in that first break-in?”
“Just my electronics—a TV and a handheld speaker. I didn’t have much.”
“A typical break-in with the intent to take anything they can sell in a pawn shop.” He shook his head. “Which doesn’t make sense that your bakery was broken into, but whoever did it didn’t take anything. He could’ve gone after the cash in the register, or even the cash register, or the television in your apartment.”
“But he didn’t.” Amelie shifted into park, turned off the engine and turned to Maurice. “You don’t have to come to this meeting with Luis.”
“Do you prefer to go alone?” He tilted his head. “Or are you trying to give me a break?”
“No and yes,” she answered with a crooked smile. “I’m giving you an out.”
“If you’re okay with me tagging along, that’s what I’d like to do.”
“Okay. Then, after lunch, we can go pick up all the supplies I’ll need. Shouldn’t take too long since I called in the order to my supplier.”
They left the parking garage and walked to Mambo’s on Bourbon Street, the Cajun-American restaurant Amelie had assured Maurice had a great Cajun menu.
Maurice held the door for Amelie, admiring the scent of her shampoo as she passed by. She’d showered and changed into clean clothing after they’d finished cleaning the bakery and setting her apartment to rights.
Inside the restaurant, Amelie glanced around at the tables filled with the lunch crowd of tourists and locals.
A hand rose from a table in the far corner.
“Ah,” Amelie smiled. “There he is.”
Maurice followed her as she weaved her way through the tables, stopping at the one where a young man with brown hair and brown eyes sat.
As Amelie approached, the man got up.
“Luis,” Amelie smiled and hugged him. “I’m so glad to see you. It’s been way too long.”
“You’re right. Far too long.” Luis hugged her and stepped back. “It’s good to see you, too.”
Amelie turned to Maurice. “Maurice, this is Luis Benoît, my mentor and friend, Armand’s son.” She turned to Luis. “Luis, I hope you don’t mind that I brought my friend Maurice. We have to pick up supplies for the bakery after lunch, and he offered to help.”
Luis shook hands with Maurice, demonstrating a strong grip for such a young man. “Pleasure to meet you,” Luis said with very little French accent.
“Nice to meet you,” Maurice said and pulled out a chair for Amelie. “Amelie tells me you two worked together in Paris.”
Luis’s gaze met Amelie’s. “Amelie worked. I’m not sure I was much help in my father’s restaurant.”
“You were a big help.” Amelie settled in her chair.
Once Luis and Maurice took their seats, a waiter appeared to take their drink orders.
Maurice asked for water. Luis ordered a soft drink, and Amelie opted for sweet tea.
“I grew up in Louisiana,” Amelie said. “Sweet tea, Cajun cuisine and my friends were what I missed most when I was in Paris.”
Luis smiled as he lifted the menu. “I remember when you introduced me to sweet tea. It was shortly after I moved in with my father.”
