Free Fleur De Lies by Maddy Hunter

religious experience.”
    A pilgrimage to Lourdes was a religious experience. What the girls were peddling as gospel was an outright lie. I kicked Jackie under the table.
    “A printing error,” tsked Patrice as he hovered over Woody’s should er. “Not Poison Grille. Poisson Grille. Fish, not poison—a delicious pan-fried tilapia with reduced tomato and white wine sauce, presented on carrot mousseline and saffron rice.” He poised his pencil over his order pad. “Is that your selection, monsieur?”
    “Gimme a burger and fries, with extra ketchup. I’m a real ketch- up guy.”
    Virginia glared at him, her eyes narrowing to slivers. “Exactly where do you think you are? The food court at your local mall?” She motioned to Patrice. “Would you kindly explain the purity of French cuisine to Mr. Jolly?”
    “No burgers, monsieur. No fries. But we prepare seven mouthwatering flavors of tomato-based sauce to suit your individual taste.” He ranged a look around the table. “Other questions? Yes? No?”
    “I’ve got one.” Woody twisted his head around to look up at Patrice. “What kind of end-of-life planning have you done, son? What are you? Thirty-five? Forty? You know, it’s never too early to start making arrangements for that inevitable day when—”
    “I have a question.” Jackie leaned forward and braced her forearms on the table. Jaw hard and nostrils flared, she lasered a squinty look at the blondes. “Why am I remembering that the idea thingie happened a whole lot differently?”
    Krystal flashed a coy smile. “You must be misrememberin’, sugah.”
    “Am not.”
    “You have to be misrememberin’,” Bobbi agreed. She crushed the brim of her hat and cocked it at a perkier angle. “As I recollect, you weren’t even there.”
    “Was so!”
    Dawna gasped. “Are you tryin’ to take credit for our idea? Now that’s just plain disappointin’. Are y’all as disappointed in Jackie as I am, girls?”
    How did the saying go? If you can’t dispute the facts, attack the messenger?
    “Given that my own memory tends to be a bit faulty,” Victor blurted out, “I think you ladies are being much too harsh on Jackie. None of us remember events in exactly the same way.”
    “I’m remembering that no one has taken my drink order yet,” fussed Virginia.
    “ Pardonne , madame!” Patrice hurried back to her side, leaving Woody to puzzle over the menu himself.
    “It doesn’t matter who thought of the idea,” conceded Victor. “Shall we call it a group effort? What interests me more are the results of the makeovers.” He graced Jackie with an avuncular smile. “Why don’t you tell me which products proved to be the most popular with your client.”
    “She didn’t have a client,” Krystal answered for her.
    Victor frowned. “And why was that?”
    “She was too busy taking pictures to bother,” Bobbi spoke up.
    Jackie let out an indignant breath. “That is so not true.”
    Victor calmed the waters with a palms-down gesture, a technique frequently employed by policemen when mediating domestic altercations, and travelers when expelling air from plastic zipper bags. His tone grew inquisitive. “So if you weren’t performing a makeover, what were you doing?”
    A whisper of uncertainty crept into Jackie’s voice. “Well … I was taking pictures, but—”
    “Told y’all,” mocked Bobbi.
    “I wasn’t taking them for myself. I was taking them for someone else. Another guest asked me to shoot some photos of her and her gentleman friend so she could post them in the Summer Getaway section of her Legion of Mary newsletter, so I was being a Good Samaritan.”
    Legion of Mary newsletter? Unh-oh . She was talking about Nana and George. I hoped the photos hadn’t turned out too well because there was no way Nana would ever sneak pictures of George past the Legion’s editorial board. The newsletter only published “Catholic” content, and for eight decades now George had been a flaming