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Harper shrugged, her eyes downcast. “Shit happens.”
Chelsea gasped, and it was Molly’s turn to chuckle. “So it does. But I don’t think your mama appreciates such language.”
“It was the best word for the situation,” Harper said in a way that was far too adult, then looked at Gabe, who still stood, looking uncertain. “Are you a cook?”
He coughed. “More or less. They call me ‘Chef,’ though.”
Harper shrugged again. “Chef, cook. What’s the difference?”
He slid into the chair across from her. “About four years of school. Are there any of those cookies left? They smelled so good.”
Harper nodded soberly and Molly missed her niece’s spark. Please let it come back. Please. “I’ll get you some,” Harper said. “Cookies for everyone.”
Chelsea looked like she’d argue, then shook her head. “Cookies for everyone,” she echoed. After her laughter at Molly’s expense, her sister looked drawn out and exhausted. Molly wished she’d make some more fun of them, just to see her smile.
Farrah got up with Harper, fixing them plates of the chicken they’d had for dinner while Harper slid a plate full of cookies to the table. The child waited silently until Gabe had tried one.
“Oh, this is good,” he said with a little moan that made Molly wish they were alone.
“On that note.” Farrah placed their dinner on the table, then pressed a small canister of balm into Molly’s hand. “For the beard burn,” she said in a stage whisper, patting Molly’s cheek. “It’s really red, hon.”
Chelsea started laughing again, and Farrah gave Molly a knowing wink before cocking her head to one side. “I hear a boat.”
Farrah walked to the back door, casually grabbing her rifle in a move that Harper missed, though Molly did not. But then her phone buzzed with a message from Burke.
Wake up, sleepyhead. Time to work. We’re 1 min out so b decent.
“It’s Burke,” Molly said, and Farrah relaxed, quietly placing her rifle by the door.
Chelsea stood and began wiping the crumbs from the table, but Farrah stayed her hand. “I’ll do it,” their hostess said with the warmest smile Molly might ever have seen. “You get Harper’s things together while I put Gabe and Molly’s dinner into plastic containers. I’ll clean the kitchen before I leave.”
Burke appeared in the doorway, studying Molly before giving her a quick glance that said that he knew what she and Gabe had been up to. She wanted to blush, to deny, to say something, but he just grinned at her. “You and Gabe look... rested.”
“They took a nap,” Harper told him soberly.
He smiled down at her. “Naps are good. Time to get going. We have places to go, people to see. Oh, and cookies to eat. Are those for me?”
“They are, Uncle Burke,” Harper said. “I made them all by myself.”
“Then we shall have ourselves a true feast on my boat.” He lifted Harper to his hip and kissed her cheek. “You ready, princess?”
Harper’s nod was grim. “Yes, sir. Aunt Molly, you’re gonna find who tried to hurt us, right?”
Molly brought Harper’s face close and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I promise.” Then she turned to their hostess. “Farrah, I don’t know how we’ll ever thank you.”
“Just stay safe and trust my André. He’ll do the right thing.”
“Of that we have no doubt.” Gabe extended a hand to Farrah, but she grabbed him for a hug before walking them to the dock.
“Be safe. Watch out for gators. I’ll be by the Choux soon for chocolate cake!” she called as the boat pulled away.
“I’m going to give her the freaking recipe,” Gabe muttered. “Such hospitality—and soft beds—cannot go unrewarded.”
Molly faced the darkness over the river with one of Burke’s rifles in her hand and a smile on her face.
Bayou Gauche, Louisiana
THURSDAY, JULY 28, 11:15 P.M.
