Previous Chapter: Prologue

                                                WestPoint Street

                                                New Iberia, Louisiana

                                                Monday, October 1, 10 AM

Nia finishes off her toaster waffles and sets her dishes in the kitchen sink. Knowing her parents were not home gives her a sense of comfort. Grabbing a bottle of chocolate milk, she opens the back door and sits on the porch swing. Watching the hummingbirds dart around the nectar feeder, Nia’s inspiration takes hold and begins to craft a poem with assistance from her fountain pen.

“Buzzing Birds

If they are knowing

Where they are going,

Why can’t they see

That the nectar is free

For all to drink

One should think….”

The grumbling of a postman’s truck interrupts Nia’s thoughts. Nia heads towards the front door and looks through the glass of the front door. A white vehicle stopping at her mailbox, then saunters towards another one.

Nia gathers the envelopes and lays them out on the countertop to sort them.

“Two letters and a magazine for dad, three for mom, and…”

The last letter is for her.

It has a wax seal on its front with a club symbol of a club found on playing cards in the middle. The return address catches her eye. She wastes no time in opening it.

                                                Marseille, France

                                                Friday, September 23, 11 AM

                                                Dupont Café

“Buoy base por favor!” shouts a woman in a Hawaiian shirt snapping her fingers.

Bernard shakes his head as he bustles in the kitchen. Every day, tourists like her expect royal treatment, even though they act like fools.

He starts to work on the bouillabaisse, fighting the urge to add some of his spit to it.

“It’s what the customer wants,” he tells himself.

He lets the broth simmer and continues to work on other dishes.

The noise of the crowds outside pounds on his eardrums.

A sous chef appears from behind him.

“Sir, are you doing okay?”

Bernard sighs deeply. “I have to keep working, no matter what.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tourists may have bad manners but make up for it with good tips.”

He smiles over his shoulder at the sous chef, who correctly interprets this as a signal to leave. She nods and returns to her work.

Bernard returns to his apartment above the restaurant and checks his mailbox. He checks over the usual bills and discovers a small envelope. He nearly dismisses it, but then a red wax seal catches his eye. There is a small heart symbol within the seal.

Bernard drops the satchel of cooking utensils on the ground.