“Uh, I don’t think so.”
Sylvie worked quickly then, opening the carton, then discarding a ton of bubble paper. When she finally pulled her gift out, and set it in the middle of the room, Sylvie could only stare, slack-jawed with incredulity.
It was a four-foot-tall ceramic statue of St. Jude.
“I figure you could put it out in your rose garden,” Tante Lulu suggested, smiling brightly.
Tante Lulu better not be still harboring ideas about having cow manure delivered to enrich her mostly unsuccessful rose-growing endeavors. It had taken Sylvie all week to get rid of the chickens and clean up her basement. To her surprise, there had also been a dozen eggs.
Sylvie put a fist on one hip and tilted her head questioningly at Tante Lulu. “Are you trying to say that I’m a hopeless case?”
“Ab-so-lute-ly!”
Sylvie had to smile at Tante Lulu’s probably accurate assessment of her. But she wasn’t smiling for long. In fact, when she opened a second package at the bottom of the box, and saw that it contained an exquisite, hand-embroidered wedding coverlet, she started to cry. Despite her first gift, Tante Lulu still had hope for her.
Charmaine arrived then with a suitcase full of beauty supplies, immediately followed by Blanche and Claudia. None of them paid any attention to Sylvie’s quickly swiped tears; in fact, they acted as if weeping were expected of her. They all gave her lame excuses as to why they’d come, but basically the silent message was that they believed Sylvie needed to get her butt in gear and straighten out her life. Tante Lulu nodded her approval of the three women’s endeavors and left for Bingo Heaven.
Charmaine made a tsk-ing sound of dismay as she viewed Tante Lulu’s nonexistent backside in the coveralls as she departed. “God, I hope she finds herself pretty soon.”
To no one’s surprise, the minute they were sitting around her kitchen table with aluminum-foil wraps sticking up from various portions of their heads, like alien antennae, Remy and René arrived.
“Hubba-hubba,” René said.
Remy just chuckled.
Claudia smiled up at Remy, undaunted by the green wax under her eyebrows. It was amazing how she never even blinked at the disfigured side of his face. But then, Sylvie rarely noticed now either.
Remy winked at Claudia.
She blushed. The pink went great with the puke-green.
“Who’s the dude?” Remy asked with a laugh, glancing over at the corner, by the patio door.
“You don’t recognize St. Jude?” Charmaine lifted a perfectly arched eyebrow.
Sylvie had moved the statue from the den to the kitchen. He did look a little different, Sylvie had to admit, with the roguish mustache Claudia had painted on him with eyeliner, the beret Blanche had plopped on his head, and the “Proud to be a Cajun” badge Charmaine had tacked on to his robe.
“Halloween coming early this year?” René inquired, and he wasn’t referring to the statue. He was gaping at the three of them.
“I’m just giving them a few highlights,” Charmaine said defensively of the foil hair spikes, “and Sylvie’s gonna get a little pouf, too.”
“No, no, no. I told you, Charmaine. No pouf,” Sylvie protested, barely moving her lips. She didn’t want to crack the hardened mask on her face.
Charmaine just patted her on the shoulder.
“I think a pouf would look good on you, Sylv,” Blanche commented. “You need a change in your life, hon.”
Not for the first time lately, Sylvie labeled her friend a traitor. Sylvie thought she’d had more than enough change lately, but she was unable to get out that many words. Besides, no one listened to her anyhow. They just kept talking about how miserable Luc was. Didn’t they care how miserable she was?
“Yep, the best thing for a broken heart is a makeover,” Charmaine was saying.
“Sylvie has a broken heart?” Remy and René asked hopefully.
“What are you two doing here?” Blanche inquired.
René tossed several flyers onto the table. “You’re all invited.”
It appeared that a fais do do—a Cajun dance—was being held to benefit the Southern Louisiana Shrimpers Association and two dozen families who’d lost their boats and their livelihood due to the recent pollution problems. It would include a talent show, dancing, and ethnic foods, all for a whopping one-hundred-dollar admission fee.