Free Body on the Bayou by Ellen Byron

she’ll bolt.”
    “Is she a stray?” Maggie asked. “We found some pups without a mama. We’ve been out looking for her.”
    “You know what, I may have your girl,” the man said. “Come on in. I’m Stevens. Stevens Troy.”
    “I’m Charlotte Crozat and this is my granddaughter, Magnolia,” Gran’ said.
    “Maggie for short,” Maggie added.
    Maggie and Gran’ followed Stevens into his home. The living room was stuffed with moving boxes and a collection of furniture that was traditional in style. Maggie noticed a heavy glass award jutting out of a box, anointing Stevens as Houston Lawyer of the Year. “Forgive the mess,” Stevens said. “I just sold a home in Houston and moved everything here permanently. My wife passed away about four months ago. I felt like I could use a fresh start.”
    “We’re so sorry for your loss,” Gran’ said. “I’m a widow myself. I admire your courage. Except for college in New Orleans, I’ve never lived anywhere but Pelican.”
    “Well, then, you’re the perfect person to fill me in on what I need to know about my new home,” Stevens said, smiling.
    Oh my gosh, he’s flirting with her! Maggie thought. As she wondered if her grandmother noticed, Gran’s behavior answered the question. “Of course I will, of course,” Gran’ fluttered. When nervous, she cranked up her inner Southernbelle and repeated phrases in what was almost a parody of her soft Louisiana accent. “You simply must let me give you a personal tour of the area. You must. ”
    “I’d love that,” Stevens said. “Let’s set a date.”
    “Why don’t you both do that after we see the dog, so you’re not distracted?” Maggie said, interrupting the senior singles’ mingle.
    “Yes, sorry,” Stevens said. “Follow me.”
    “I see you face west,” Gran’ said as they walked. “You must catch some lovely sunsets.”
    “That’s why Wynette and I bought this house,” Stevens said as he led them through a small galley kitchen. “She had a passion for a pretty setting sun.”
    They exited the kitchen onto an enclosed patio at the back of the house. A small tan-and-white Chihuahua mix paced the room, whimpering. “She came in through the doggy door the previous owner installed for his Doberman,” Stevens said. “The cover to it is missing, and I ordered a new one, but lucky for her, it hasn’t shown up yet. She goes outside and wanders around, then comes back in. Poor thing seems agitated.”
    Maggie knelt down next to the animal, which shivered and pulled away. But as Maggie murmured soothing reassurances, the dog crept closer and allowed Maggie to pet her. Maggie took advantage of the proximity to peek at the pup’s belly. “This sweetie has given birth recently,” she told the others. “We found our girl.”
    “No wonder she was so distressed,” Stevens said. “She missed her babies.”
    Stevens offered to drive Gran’, Maggie, and the pooch back to Crozat. The dog, still weak from her ordeal, didn’t protest when Maggie wrapped her in a blanket and carried her to Stevens’s Prius. Maggie had texted her parents that they were on their way, so Ninette and Tug met them at the back door. Gran’ introduced Stevens to Ninette and Tug as Maggie brought the dog into the B and B’s office and placed her in the playpen. The mama cat gave a happy meow, and the puppies squeaked with joy. They leapt on their mother, who was equally happy to see them.
    “She needs a name,” Maggie said. “I think Stevens, as her rescuer, gets that honor.”
    “Ooh, lotta pressure,” Stevens said. He thought for a moment. “We’re in Cajun Country, so it should be French. What about Jolie Fille? Pretty Girl?”
    “I think it’s lovely,” Gran’ said. “We’ll call her Jolie for short.”
    “Could call a lot around here ‘ jolie, ’” Stevens said, eliciting a blush from Gran’.
    Tug pulled Ninette and Maggie aside. “What’s going on?” he whispered.
    “I know it’s been a while,