“That’s what the German asked.” Luis shook his head. “He had a photo of the three of us when I was a child.” He smiled. “My mother and father were so young in that picture. And there were several black-and-white photos of his parents. Now that I’ve seen the St. Louis Cathedral, I know they took one of those pictures here in New Orleans.”
“I remember he had that photo in a frame on an end table in his flat in Paris,” Amelie said. “That’s when he told me they’d moved to New Orleans near the beginning of World War II. As soon as the war was over and it was safe to return, they packed up and moved back to Paris.” Amelie frowned. “Did you keep the photos he had on the bookshelf?”
“I kept all the photos,” Luis said with a shrug. “It was pretty much all I had left of my father’s.”
Amelie’s eyes narrowed. “Those were pictures of his parents before the war, taken in their home. He pointed them out, talking about the beautiful furnishings and paintings they had on the walls. So much of what they had in their home was also passed down from generation to generation. When they returned from the States, all of that was gone—their home, the furnishings, everything they hadn’t taken with them. They had to start over. Your father said they didn’t have much, but they slowly rebuilt their lives. Your grandmother’s baking helped keep a roof over their heads. Your grandfather, like you, got a job washing dishes in a fancy restaurant. He soon apprenticed under the chef and eventually opened his own restaurant.”
“The Chez Benoît.” Luis sighed. “And now that’s gone, as well.”
“Who knows,” Amelie said. “If you work hard and learn from your mentors, one day you might open your own restaurant.”
Luis laughed. “I’m just starting and still in the chief bottle-washer stage of my career.”
“You have more of your father in you than you know,” Amelie said. “You’ll do well as long as you have the passion for creating beautiful, flavorful cuisine.”
“Thank you,” Luis said. “It means a lot to me to hear you say that. I feel like I didn’t leave you on the best of terms. For the years we worked together, you were nothing but nice and helpful. I was a jerk and pushed back every time you tried to show me something or when my father tried to teach me.” Luis’s eyes brightened. “I’ll have you know that I finally mastered Soufflé au Fromage. It was so light and tasted so good, I truly believe my father would’ve been proud.”
Amelie nodded. “He would’ve loved everything about it.” She glanced at her watch and blinked. “Wow. The time has flown. I’m really sorry that I can’t stay longer. I have an appointment with my supplier in twenty minutes. If I didn’t need the supplies so badly, I’d love to stay and talk more.” She glanced toward Maurice.
“I’m finished,” he said, having polished off his amazing shrimp okra gumbo. “Ready whenever you are.”
Amelie pushed to her feet. “Luis, I’m happy you’ll be closer, and I hope you like working for Maison Belle. I loved it. The staff was easy to work with and loved what they did.”
Luis stood and hugged Amelie. “I’m glad you made time to come see me. I feel like you’re the only family I have. I promise to be better about keeping in touch.”
She took his hands. “I’m happy you’re finding what inspires you. Since you don’t start for another week, come out to Bayou Mambaloa. Stay with me. My apartment is small, but you could always sleep on the sofa.”
“If you need a little more room, I’m sure we could put you up in the local boarding house,” Maurice offered.
Luis nodded. “I have a few things to do to get settled, but it shouldn’t take long. And I don’t know anyone here yet. So, yes, I’d like that. Is tomorrow too soon?”
Amelie grinned. “Never too soon. I might even put you to work.”
“I’m up for that as well,” Luis said. “I’ll see you then.”
Amelie insisted on paying the bill on the way out.
“Would you like me to drive?” Maurice asked.
“Actually, I’d love it if you would,” she said with a relaxed smile. She handed him the keys and slid into the passenger seat.
Maurice climbed into the driver’s seat, keyed the address into his smartphone, started the engine and pulled out of the parking garage into the midday traffic.
“It was really nice to see Luis,” Amelie said. “I was worried about him after Armand’s death. Losing both parents when he’s still so young is hard.”
“He seems to have found purpose.”
“And he’s training to be a chef.” She nodded. “Armand would’ve been so proud. Hell, he would’ve been proud of any profession his son went into.”
“Like most parents, he would’ve been glad his son found something he liked doing and went after it.”
Amelie stared out the windshield, her smile making Maurice smile.
Something Luis had mentioned tugged at Maurice’s thoughts. “I wonder what the German guy was looking for by calling on Luis?”
“I thought that was weird, too.” Amelie’s brow furrowed, wiping away her contented smile. “Seems odd that a German would be researching wealthy French families of WWII.”
“Luis said he specifically asked about antiquities and art.”
