Page 123 of The Cajun Doctor

“What?”

Edgar went on to tell a preposterous story, which had been related to him secondhand by Lily Beth, about this kilt-wearing Scotsman and a woman named “Hatchet Face” interrupting the FBI/police meeting. Afterward, Daniel said, “So, it’s over.”

“It’s not over ’til the fat lady sings,” Edgar opined.

Daniel didn’t know any fat singers, but he did know a witchy Cajun matchmaker, who probably thought she had the final say in anything affecting any and all members of her extended LeDeux family.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, Daniel was a member of that family.

When all else fails, go to the expert . . .

Samantha was back in her New Orleans home, considerably lighter on animals, but heavier in the heart.

She now had only Axel, Maddie, and Emily . . . and Clarence, of course, who was going to be adopted soon. She hoped.

But she was a different woman now. A woman in love. Dammit! Unrequited love. Dammit. How had this wonderful/awful attachment happened so quickly and so powerfully?

Well, it wasn’t so quickly, she was beginning to realize. Over the past few years, since she’d first met Daniel at John LeDeux’s wedding, there had been a spark. She’d always considered it a spark of hostility, but now she was beginning to think there had been an attraction from the get-go, and she’d chosen to handle it with snarkiness. After all, he was a doctor and she’d been committed to lumping all doctors in one big dungpile of egotism, selfishness, and greed.

Which made her think of Nick, of course. His funeral was tomorrow. How sad, that such a bright, handsome man could have gone down the path he had! She felt no regrets, except that she would have wished him in prison, rather than wherever he was now.

To add to her misery, every member of her family had been on the phone to her. Commiserating. Wanting details. Discussing past associations with Nick.

“So sad!” (Yep!)

“He always was a louse!” (Well, yeah! Hindsight is 20/20.)

“But he wore a pink tie when he visited me!” (Well, duh! He was trying to con you.)

“Do you think I’ll ever get back the money I loaned him eight years ago?” (When gators fly!)

“Are you going to the funeral?” (Hell, no!)

“What will happen to his new building?” (Sold to settle debts, I would think.)

The news media was after her, too. She was tempted to go back to Bayou Rose to hide out till the scandal blew over, but her pride was too great. And Daniel hadn’t invited her.

Her father and Florence had taken Angus to Costa Rica with them for a “little vacation,” which meant that the law was being laid down, and strict rules set for Angus’s future. He was going to return to college when they got back and/or get a job. And he was going to live at home until his finances were in better shape. The prospect of living with Florence would straighten him out, if nothing else would.

Samantha wasn’t really alone, she had to remind herself. Lily Beth was staying with her until her brother Vic got home on leave in a few weeks. She hadn’t told her preacher brother, Paul, about the pregnancy, but she had told the soldier brother in Afghanistan. Turned out Vic was delighted for her. He was engaged to marry a girl from Lafayette and he said he could buy a small house when he returned for them all to live together, including the baby. And she could continue her studies, if she wanted. Lily Beth had no intention of telling her brother about Nick, which was none of Samantha’s business.

So, all’s well that ends well, she thought. For some people.

It was Lily Beth in all her youthful wisdom who gave her the answer, after another day had passed and no word from Daniel. “What do ya really want, Samatha?”

“Daniel,” she answered without hesitation. Yeah, she wanted him to want her. She wanted him to chase her. She wanted him to coax her into coming back. But bottom line? She repeated, “Daniel.”

“Well, golly gee, Samantha, bless yer heart, why don’t ya go get him then?”

Was it as simple as that?

No, Samantha was a list maker. She made plans and then acted them out. But how to do that? She had an idea. Could she? Should she? She picked up her cell phone.

“Hello. Tante Lulu?”

“Yes, is that you, Samantha?”

“Yes. I hate to impose, but . . .”