Rene shook his head. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to. I don’t want you to have another moment’s insecurity over money,” his mother said. “You can do anything you want, son. You don’t have to be your father. I wish you would fight for your place because I hate to see Charles win anything, but if this is the way you want to go, I’m happy for you.”
“I loved my job,” Rene admitted. “I loved that company, but I’m so hamstrung by the way the board works that I can’t do the things I want with it. Maybe it’s time for me to look for a new challenge. I’ve heard I have a bake sale to plan.”
The tension that had been in the room before seemed to deflate, and Sylvie breathed a huge sigh of relief.
“We should discuss that.” Her mother moved into the living room. “Because Delphine and I talked about selling some of our services at the bake sale as well. Specifically spells. I know some of those children need help. And their mommas could use the patience spell I’ve been working on.”
“Not if it includes vodka, like your last patience spell.” It was a good thing Rene was taking over or she would have more protests on her front lawn. There was still an actual Ladies Temperance Society in Papillon. It consisted of three little old church ladies, but they all owned bullhorns.
Her mother shrugged. “Well, it gives me a lot of patience. Lord knows I’m going to need it with my son home. Cricket, my boy got himself shot and didn’t bother to call his momma.”
Cricket shook her head. “That is such a shame, Marcelle. How are you handling it?”
Dre came up behind the couch. “We all know I did not actually shoot myself, right? I did not.”
“But you didn’t call your momma.” Cricket shook her finger Dre’s way. “She knew something was wrong all along.”
Her mother held a hand up toward the ceiling. “The ancestors told me my boy was in trouble. They do not steer me wrong.”
Her brother sent a glare Sylvie’s way. “I had a perfectly good plan. I was going to hide out at my loving sister’s house just for a few days, but no. My best friend and my sister had to go get all nasty and kick me to the curb. Speaking of my injury, you are not exactly treating me like a poor man who got shot. My shoulder aches but you still send me out for syrup.”
“And you bring back this.” Her mother held up a small bottle of what looked to be pure maple syrup.
Oh, her brother had been gone for too long. Sylvie stood up. “I’m going to get more properly dressed while my mother yells at my brother about thriftiness and not giving into trendy foods.”
Trendy foods were anything not available and popular in the last century.
“It tastes better, Momma,” Dre argued. “We don’t have to buy bargain-bin maple-flavored syrup anymore. Especially since Rene got all his money back. Sylvie literally married a bank.”
She faced off with her brother. “I did not. Don’t say things like that. He is sensitive.”
“I’m not really,” Rene replied. “I’m actually feeling pretty good about the trust fund thing. It’s good to have the money to help the people we care about. And to fix this place up.”
“There is nothing wrong with the syrup you grew up with. You too good for your momma’s cooking?” Her mom could whip that spatula around like it was a sword she would use to slay a dragon.
“No.” Dre groaned. “I just really like maple syrup.”
“You are too big for your britches,” her mother said with a shake of her head. “And I’m not buying you any more britches.”
“I can buy my own britches,” Dre insisted before turning to Rene. “Brother, I might need to borrow some money.”
Rene’s head tipped back and he laughed, a sound of pure joy, and then Sylvie was in his arms again. “That will have to wait. I’m taking my wife upstairs. Call us when breakfast is ready. Don’t give your momma more trouble, Dre.”
“I should have known you would take her side,” Dre said. “It’s probably a good play, but you know she’s not going to leave you alone. She’s going to have all kinds of questions, so make it a quickie.”
“Dre, don’t you be nasty,” her mother chided. “Although I do have some things your sister and I need to talk about. I love that dog, but she is not a grandbaby.”
Were they really having this conversation? “We just got married,” Sylvie protested.
“If you wanted to wait, you should have gotten married when you were young,” her mother said as she went back to the stove. “I have consulted the spirits and you need to start now.”