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ONE

BIANCA

The first tihout the state of Louisiana as "the Beast," I thought he couldn’t possibly be as bad as his reputation

As it turned out, I rong

He orse

Dressed all in black, standing a head taller than everyone else, his shoulders so broad they cast an ominous shadow over the polished wood floor, Jackson Boudreaux surveyed the bustling dining roo who’d stuue

His lip was curled His eyes were narrowed His nose was stuck so far up in the air, I wondered if he’d coot ourselves a loup-garou! Get the garlic!"

Standing beside me at the stove in the kitchen, n of the cross over her alass wall at the man in black Eeny, as she was affectionately called by everyone who knew her, was a retired voodoo priestess with a collection of superstitions almost as elaborate as her African tribal-print caftans

"Garlic is for va past the tables of diners to the hostess stand at the front of the restaurant, where theat the hostess, Pepper The poor girl was visibly shrinking under the weight of his stare

A flash of irritation made me frown

It was the first, and ht

"That ain’t no olf, or no valanced atCajun with an accent thicker than bayou sludge, a grizzled white beard, and arthritic hands that still nets in New Orleans He jerked his chin toward the newcoh on the floured wood board on the counter in front of hinize his face from the papers," said Hoyt "That there is the boodoo tête de cabri, Mr Boudreaux Bourbon Jr himself"

"Well butter

My panic wasn’t because Hoyt had called the oat-headed bully Hoyt had a way of describing people that was as colorful as the Mardi Gras parade It was because that particular goat-headed bully was heir to the world’s nu bourbon e menu around

It was a uests and the cause for a surge in reservations It was getting fantastic reviews frolowing azine

It was a menu, in all honesty, packed so full of love and soul and hope and sweat that it was like it wasit, and fine-tuning it until it was perfect

But having Jackson Boudreaux himself come in to dine was an event I was completely unprepared for

I knew he lived in New Orleans--I read the papers, too, after all--but had heard so ht it unlikely he’d ever show up at my door, even if his family bourbon had inspired the -three of hi an eerie hush throughroom

"How did I miss his name on the reservations list?" I cried "If I’d known he was coive him the best table!"