Page 62 of The Cajun Doctor

“Is that all?” Aaron was clearly amused.

“Another thing.” If I’m going to be a whiner, I’m going to do it big-time. “Do you have any food in this place? Real food? I saw a bunch of mouse traps when I went into the kitchen to get a glass of water, but I didn’t check the cupboards. There is a fridge, isn’t there?”

“There’s an old fridge, but they have new spiffy models with ice water dispensers and wine chilling racks. I heard about one that has a beer tap in it. Of course, it costs about ten thou, but hey!”

“That renovation budget of yours isn’t worth crap. How much have you spent so far?”

“You only live once, bro,” Aaron answered, clearly avoiding a disclosure of expenditures. “And while you’re at it, bro, I wouldn’t mind a party crisping drawer, the kind you can put a whole tray of hors d’oeuvres in.”

“Planning a lot of parties, are you, bro?”

“I might. Hell, every time the LeDeuxs stop by, it’s a party. Besides, if Aunt Mel does come, we probably should have a welcome party. Wonder if she’ll be bringing her Barry Manilow CDs?”

Daniel groaned.

“Anyhow, I don’t know about groceries. I don’t do much cooking.”

“No kidding.”

“But there is a ton of Tante Lulu’s leftovers from her impromptu lawn party here earlier today . . . rather yesterday. Peachy Praline Cobbler Cake, beignets, boudin sausage, mini muffulettas, crawfish po-boys, a couple salads, Cajun pickles . . . in fact, there’s no room left in that icebox to hold even one bottle of beer.”

“So, cake and pickles for breakfast?”

“There you go,” Aaron said.

“That should please Lily Beth,” Daniel remarked. “Please don’t tell me that you expect me to shop for furniture, and a fridge.”

“Well . . .” Aaron grinned some more, then added. “You might want to buy a small freezer, too. If one of Delilah’s gators trespasses on this property, I plan to shoot it. They say gator meat tastes just like chicken.”

“Don’t you dare shoot any gators. We don’t want to draw attention to this place. Plus, it’s probably against the law.”

“The Swamp People do it.”

“And now you’re one of the Swamp People?”

“I’m just sayin’.” Aaron yawned loudly and stood, stretching. “It’s two a.m. I’m gonna hit the sack for a couple hours. Wake me when you decide what to do.”

“About what?”

“Anything. Everything. I’ll help in any way I can.”

“While you’re flying over the Gulf?”

“Yeah, but before and after that.”

Daniel headed back to the big house, knowing the majority of the problems had landed in his lap. It was his fault for answering Aaron’s phone, but still . . .

There were times like this when he wished he was still hibernating in the fishing camp on the bayou. No one had bothered him there. He’d been alone, like he wanted to be.

Or had wanted to be.

Or should want to be.

Whatever!

Chapter Fourteen

In the still of the bayou night . . .