And now they were gone, but they hadn’t forgotten her.
“He thought you were precious, though. The old man.” Marian’s voice drew her back to the present.
Erielle was torn between wanting to hear about her grandfather’s pride in her and not wanting to add to her guilt.
But Marie wasn’t leaving her spot, so Erielle engaged.
“Are you from Phantom Bayou?”
She tucked her chin in. “I knew your grandparents,” was all she said.
“My mom? My aunt?” Sometimes Erielle forgot those two women—who couldn’t be more different from each other—had lived here as well. And since they never talked about their childhood, she wouldn’t mind hearing stories from someone else.
“One of the girls was older than me, the other younger, so no, I knew who they were, but didn’t really know them. One of them, the older, couldn’t wait to get out of town, so she didn’t really have many friends.”
“That would be my mother,” Erielle said with a sigh. “And not much has changed. She has her own idea of the way her life should go.” And Erielle was too much like her in that regard. She tried not to wince at that insight.
Marie nodded thoughtfully. “That sounds about right.”
“So what do you do around here, Marie?”
The older woman scowled, and Erielle remembered that Samson had warned her not to ask questions.
“I used to work at the chemical plant that shut down. Now I work in Maillard at the grocery store.”
Erielle’s inner grimace must have shown on her face.
Marie waved a hand. “It’s not so bad. Not as much money, but better working conditions, that’s for sure. Which is good, because I’ll probably work there until I die.”
“So what do you think it would take to bring businesses back to Phantom Bayou?” Erielle asked, leaning forward.
Marie’s gaze shuttered. “You’re not going to bring business back. Not unless it’s another factory, and you know that won’t happen. Could do ghost tours, like your granddaddy wanted to, I suppose, but I don’t think that would bring quite the business you want.”
“Do you believe this place is haunted?” Erielle felt compelled to ask.
Marie leaned closer. “Girl, I could tell you some stories that would keep you up at night.”
The hair on Erielle’s arms rose as she looked into the other woman’s dark eyes.
“Marie, are you going to gab all night, or get out of the way so we can get some drinks?” a man demanded behind Marie.
Marie took her bottle, saluted Erielle with it, and went to rejoin her group as the next customer stepped forward.
Erielle couldn’t get the place cleaned up ahead of closing time like she usually did, because business was brisk. In fact, she had trouble ushering some die-hards out of the bar so she could close. She was glad Samson had hung around, though guilt nagged at her that he had to stay so late.
“You don’t have to wait for me,” she assured him as she picked up the bus tub and started clearing tables in the pool room.
He straightened out the pool cues, racked the balls in the center of the table for tomorrow. “I don’t mind.”
“I’ll be fine getting to my car, getting home on my own. You saw where I parked.”
He grunted, and added some more bottles to her tub. “I still feel better waiting.”
“You don’t get paid to do this,” she reminded him.
“You don’t get paid much, either.”
Her turn to grunt.
