Page 39 of Sweet Talking Man


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“People are idiots. That’s one thing I know. But along this river, such hardship and such beauty. I hate that past, but I love this land. Thought about moving back to New Orleans, but my people have lived and loved here for so long. It's in my blood, you know?"

"I can't imagine feeling that way. I feel like I'm from nowhere, yet everywhere."

Hilda stopped. "Whyareyou here, Leif?"

"Is that why you asked me to brunch? To get at my secrets," he teased, even as fear nattered away at his gut. The Harveys were still part of this community and Southerners seemed to hold grudges.

"That or have my wicked way with you. Of course, my sciatica has been terrible and the arthritis just as bad, so I'd say you're safe... though I must say, your loss."

Leif choked down a laugh. "Indeed."

Hilda started walking again. "Over there is where my husband's grandmother lived. Eloisa Rigaud Burnside. She was quite a lady. Some even suspected her of voodoo."

"Voodoo?"

"Heavens, yes. Her family came from Saint Domingue after the slave revolt and settled in New Orleans. Her grandmother had been a slave, her grandfather a soldier in the French military. Hergrand-merewas a mambo-that's a priestess-and it's said Eloisa inherited her knowledge from her."

"Wow." Leif enjoyed the sun on his shoulders as much as Hilda's tour of Magnolia Bend. She prattled on about her kinfolk, all of whom had owned land-including one who'd had a brothel outside of New Orleans-and he listened because it was required of a guest.

He supposed he was a guest. He'd been surprised by her phone call that morning, which had woken him from a dead sleep. When he'd arrived at her house, still longing for the comfort of his bed but not willing to miss an opportunity to ask about his mother, she'd suggested a walk before they dined.

"So, have you made progress with the button popping? I'm not one to look out windows or anything, but I'm sensing a promising direction."

"You sneak," he said, nearly tripping over uneven pavement. "So this is about Abigail?"

"Of course it's about Abigail. She's my cousin."

“Why are you so vested in my sleeping with your cousin? Not that I have or am. It's odd."

"Oh, hush. Sex is sex. Nothing odd about it." Hilda jerked Clyde's leash a bit too hard and the dog stumbled over a large rock he'd been sniffing on the edge of a driveway. "But that hound dog Calhoun Orgeron is sniffing around, trying to stake his territory."

''And you think I can dissuade him?"

"Yes, and give Abigail a good time in the process."

"You know I'm a person, not a tool."

Hilda stopped and patted his cheek. "Of course you are. I didn't mean to imply otherwise, but the timing is so good. And I could see plain as day that you made her uncomfortable. And you watched her like a hungry man."

"So?"

"So, no one makes Abi uncomfortable. I could see she thinks you're a hottie."

Leif snorted.

"That's what the kids call a man who heats up the blood."

"I knew what you meant, I merely-" He paused. " Never mind. You were saying?"

"Did you make progress?"

"None of your business," he said, as they reached the park in the center of town. The area was deserted, probably because most people were in church... or at home sleeping.

“I see. You are going to be a hard nut to crack... and I meannutin the most complimentary of ways.”

"It's fine. I've been called a nut most my life. Probably because of what I wear." He indicated his linen trousers and rugged hemp shirt. He'd elected to wear sneakers, which had been providential, since they'd walked over a mile.

"Very impolite of them. I, personally, would dress you in Hugo Boss or Calvin Klein, but if you prefer to look homeless, so be it. I would never take away your right to be fashion challenged." She sashayed toward the square in her expensive yoga pants and matching hoodie. Her bright Hokas completed the bold look. Hilda Brunet was a Magnolia Bend fashion plate even when exercising.

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