“You did a great job. I only vaguely recall what this place was like when I was a little girl, but the wicker and cypress furniture seems just right.”

“Thanks.” He’d enjoyed furnishing La Petite Maison more than he would have thought. In fact, he’d enjoyed the whole B and B experience far more than would have seemed possible a year ago. He hadn’t been looking forward to two years’ banishment in Indigo, away from the big-city lights he’d thrived on his whole life. But he’d have done anything to get back into the good graces of his aunt, cousins and grandmother, and to make up in some small measure for the chaos he’d deliberately created in their lives.

Fortunately, the grim, solitary life he’d anticipated had never come to pass. The townspeople had embraced him on the strength of his blood ties to the Robichaux family. He’d quickly become a part of the community, and everyone had pitched in to help with the renovation of the cabin, built by the founders of Indigo, the Valois family. They’d offered him the names of reliable workers and suppliers. They’d been eager for him to open La Petite Maison, welcoming anything that would bring tourists to town.

He wondered if they would feel the same about him if they knew the truth about his past.

“So, here’s what I wanted to ask you,” Loretta said, her voice shaking slightly as she placed juice glasses in front of each plate. “You know I’ve volunteered to coordinate the food for the music festival, right?”

Zara, her silverware duties completed, applied herself to folding the linen napkins into perfect rectangles.

“The music festival is all anyone talks about these days,” Luc said. “I know what everybody’s doing.”

“Well…I need help. I had a committee, but Carolee went and had her baby two weeks early, and Justine Clemente sprained her ankle, which doesn’t make a difference anyway because she couldn’t accomplish the simplest task. Rufus’s expertise is in eating, not cooking-”