The family sat at the kitchen table feasting on barbecue chicken, green beans, and potato salad. The sisters continued to make jokes about Evangeline’s upcoming bachelorette party, and Ophelia’s mother started running through the list of their distant relatives and how they were doing. It felt like the appropriate time to bring up the whole Traiteur thing, minus the magic bit.
“Well, I have news…” said Ophelia, and the whole table turned to her with expectant eyes. “I went to visit Mawmaw last weekend, and she wants me to be the next family Traiteur.”
Ophelia’s mom smiled. “That’s wonderful, honey! She told me a while ago she was ready to pass it on. I’m glad she’s finally doing it.”
Her sisters looked shocked. Then a beat later, they erupted with jealousy.
“Are you kidding me?” exclaimed Jolie. “Why does she wantyouto be the next family Traiteur? What about me? I’d be great at it!” Her reaction was in good-natured sisterly rivalry. It was Jolie’s and Eva’s duty to ensure an equitable distribution of all things—the tangible and intangible.
Evangeline pouted. “Honestly, I don’t want to learn—I’m too busy with work and the wedding—but it would have been nice to at least be asked.”
“Again, why you?” said Jolie, waving her fork at Ophelia.
“Maybe because Ophelia is one of the only granddaughters that continues to write to her and visit,” commented their mother snarkily.
It did feel a bit as if Ophelia was the chosen one. It was well-known in their family that the gift had been passed down generation after generation to the women on her mother’s side of the family. Ophelia’s mother had often commented that Mawmaw would take the gift to her grave, letting it die out with her. But Mawmaw had chosen Ophelia instead.
“But, like, how are you going to even do that?” asked Jo. “Youdon’t go to church. Who are you going to treat?Whereare you going to treat? Like, will you go back to Oakdale to treat those people?”
Ophelia cocked her head in annoyance at Jo. “I don’t know yet, but I’m going to figure it out.”
“Mmmkay…” Jo drawled.
“Sounds like you’ve got a lot of work to do, then,” said Eva.
“Thanks for the support, sisters.”
“Don’t mind them, honey,” her dad assured. “We all know they’re just jealous.”
Ophelia smiled as her sisters scoffed.
Truthfully, treating had always intrigued Ophelia. She inherently had that caretaker skill, one of the perks of being the eldest daughter, though she had never been overly attracted to medicine; she excelled in math and writing. A degree in finance seemed much more profitable with less school debt. But social work was her true passion, and running Healing Artists was the perfect blend of all of her skills.
But treating people… Jolie was right. How would she even do that?Wherewould she do that? Did she even know enough to help people in that way? She supposed she’d find out soon enough.
After dinner, they moved to the living room, sitting under piles of pillows on the couch. Small chatter from the family hummed in the background as Ophelia’s mind continued to mull over treating.
Her father flipped on the TV, and the weather channel flickered on the big screen. Bright, red bars ran across the screen, reading “Hurricane watch for Southern Louisiana and Southeastern Mississippi.” The family snapped to attention.
“Ah fuck,” said Jo as Eva’s face dropped. Their mother grimaced at Jo’s curse.
“Nooo,” whined Eva as she turned to her mom. “What are we going to do?”
Ophelia and Jolie silently exchanged concerned glances but did not dare to say anything to further worry Eva.
A blonde weather woman in a light blue pantsuit appeared on the screen, and Ophelia’s dad turned up the volume. Right above Cuba, a hurricane swirled slowly on the digital map of the Gulf as a red curving cone appeared on top, aimed at New Orleans. Evangeline groaned loudly and slumped into the couch like an obstinate child.
“Evangeline, it’s going to be fine,” Ophelia told her firmly. “They say the hurricane won’t make landfall until Saturday night, and it may not even hit New Orleans. It’ll probably go to Biloxi.”
“Yeah, and it’ll be a Cat 2 when it hits. Child’s play,” said Jo.
“The girls are right, honey,” said their mom. “It’ll be fine. You can’t control it anyway.”
Ophelia knew that Evangeline was worried about what the bachelorette group would do if they were rained in. There was also concern that Evangeline’s friends wouldn’t be able to fly in. Annie, a petite ginger, was coming from Austin, and Catherine, a mouthy woman, was coming from Tampa. Sensing Evangeline’s anxiety, Ophelia removed herself from under the giant pillows and grabbed the present she hid behind the couch when she arrived.
“Well, my sweet little bride,” said Ophelia as she pranced over to Eva with the box. “We have a little something that will cheer you up.”
Eva’s face lit up. Her youngest sister delicately unwrapped the glossy paper and opened the lid of the box. With much enthusiasm, she pulled out a pair of baby blue high heels.
