He felt heavier as he walked back out into the kitchen. At least Michel was back, though he was sporting leaves all over his clothes. His mother was trying to tell if he’d gotten into poison ivy.

“I can cure it, of course. I’ve got a lotion that will fix you up,” his mother was saying.

Zep was stirring the hell out of that gumbo. “You should get to the dining room, Remy. We had a bus pull up ten minutes ago. They’re on a swamp tour. Seraphina said it was thirty hungry, ancient people. Like really old. I bet it looks like the walking dead out there.”

Somehow he didn’t think that was what Seraphina had said. “Jean-Claude told me he’d started taking tour buses. Damn it. I shouldn’t have given the other server the day off.”

He hustled, ready to find the place in complete chaos, but it was quiet in the dining room. There were still ten tables occupied, and Mindy St. Clair was covering them. The college student was far better at table management than Zep.

“I heard we had a busload,” he said.

Mindy smiled. “Yeah, Sera and Lisa handled it. They’re on the patio explaining the food choices.”

“She’s passing out the menus?”

Mindy shook her head. “No. She talked to Michel yesterday and they’re doing a prix fixe luncheon. They get one of two choices for three courses. Everything’s ready. Michel only has to plate it. She’s got the whole group on the patio and she’s giving everyone who wants one a complimentary hurricane. I’m going to serve the appetizer in ten minutes, and I set the bus driver up with a private table. Lisa organized it all when she realized we had a bus coming in. It’s okay, right?”

Of course she did. She’d been prepared and now this lunch was going to make money and run smoothly. “It sounds perfect.”

“And tell Zep that he’s got to actually spend time on the floor if he wants tips.” She turned, her ponytail swinging.

“Unca. Unca.”

He looked down and he was standing in front of the big playpen. Guidry’s had always had one. He’d played in one when he was a kid, the work of the wharf going on all around him. Patrons would come in and drop their own toddlers in. When he was big enough, he would hang out on the playground off the parking lot, the same one that had been fenced in after Otis had started making his appearances.