Page 119 of The Cajun Doctor

Daniel skirted the mansion and went past the struggling rose garden with the St. Jude birdbath.

“Whoa! Who is that dude?”

“St. Jude. Patron saint of hopeless people.”

“Like me?” Edgar asked with a laugh.

“Or me.”

“You do seem kinda down,” Edgar observed.

“You could say that.”

“Woman troubles?”

“You could say that.”

“I can give you advice. I’ve been married three times. My first wife got a bun in the oven when we were in college. Never did take to the baby. She ran off with an ROTC guy on campus ’cause she liked his uniform. I was in my sophomore year. Football scholarship. Had to drop out, of course.

“My second wife decided she’d rather be a lesbian, and don’t think that doesn’t kick a man in the nuts. She left me with two more kids.

“My third, and present wife, went to do the laundry one day and never came back. That marriage resulted in one more kid, Molly. I’d get a divorce if I could find her, or if I had the money.

“Thank God for my mama, the world’s number one babysitter, but she’s getting up in years, and my cousins Erline and Dorsey, who help out sometimes, are a little bit sluttish and tend to wander off at the most inappropriate times, and . . . well, you get the picture.”

In 3-D, high definition, color! Under normal circumstances, Daniel would have told himself he should count his blessings, but he wasn’t in the mood for counting blessings. He’d rather count all the ways Samantha was driving him batshit crazy.

“This is a great property,” Edgar remarked, looking around, “and the house has good bones. I know because I worked on a mansion down in Savannah’s historic district that was filled with termite holes, practically fell down on itself, like Swiss cheese. ’Course I’m only seein’ your place from the outside.”

“It’s about the same inside. A lifetime of work to be done.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here. To help. While I can.”

“But just with the slave cabin, at first.”

Edgar nodded. He understood that this was a trial. “You won’t be disappointed.”

After his initial inspection of the cabin, which was really just a square space, roughly twenty by twenty with a small fireplace, and an extra room hardly bigger than a closet for sleeping. Edgar declared it “a piece of cake.” He went on to explain that the rudiments of electricity were there. A trip to the hardware store for some parts and tools, and “there would be light,” he proclaimed. Plumbing was a bigger deal; it would require some digging to connect to the main line of the house. Still, something he could do with some rental equipment.

“I’m thinking a little kitchenette over there with a sink under the window, an apartment-size fridge, and a little two-burner stove. It would be like an efficiency. Living room and kitchen combined, all in one space, no divider. They must have used that fireplace over there for cooking and heating in the winter. I would just shove a portable heater in there.

“The biggest problem I see is no bathroom. They didn’t have indoor bathrooms back in the day. If you want a bathroom, you’ll have to give up that little bedroom. It could barely hold a bed, anyhow. That couch out there on the porch looks like a sleeper sofa. Works for me. What do you think?”

“Works for me, too, but in the meantime?”

“I’ll get this main room cleaned up and the furniture inside. That will be enough for me, as long as I can use your shower and bathroom for a few days.”

“You can use the facilities in the garconniére apartment. No one is there during the day most times, anyhow.” At least while Aaron was sleeping there.

Edgar nodded. “I’ll make my first priority the plumbing so I can get a bathroom up and going. Nothing fancy. One of those surplus warehouses should have everything I need.”

Daniel knew all about warehouses. In fact, he felt like an expert on the subject, after the visit he and Samantha had made to the furniture warehouse . . . was it only two days ago?

Samantha! There he went again! Samantha on his mind!

“Yo, Dan!” It was Aaron coming up the walkway.

Daniel motioned for Edgar to join them. “This is Edgar Gillotte, the man I told you about last night. Ed, this is my brother Aaron, who fancies himself a hotshot flyboy.”