False Pretenses by Kathy Herman Page B

one side of the flower garden. Had it gotten more beautiful in the past ten years? Or was it just that she had taken it for granted when she worked for Adele?
    A silver-haired man wearing a charcoal gray uniform opened her door and tipped the rim of his hat. She immediately recognized him as Julien Menard, Adele’s chauffeur.
    “Hello, Shelby. Mrs. Woodmore told me you were coming. I’m so glad to see you. You look lovely. The shorter haircut becomes you.”
    “Thank you.” Zoe got out and faced her old friend. She took his hands. “It’s great seeing you, too, Julien. You just get more handsome with age. I’m surprised you’re still here.”
    “To tell you the truth, I don’t understand it myself. Mrs. Woodmore doesn’t go many places these days. She doesn’t need a chauffeur. It’d be cheaper for her to call a cab. I’m just grateful. I’d like to put in a couple more years before I retire.”
    “How’s your family?”
    “Oh, my sweet Marie is walking the streets of gold. I miss her sorely. But my kids are all married now, and I’ve got seven grandchildren. Can you believe it? Tell me about yourself.” He held up her left hand. “Is that a wedding ring?”
    Zoe smiled. “Yes, I’m married to the proudest Cajun you’d ever want to meet. Five years now.” Please don’t ask his name.
    Julien’s face beamed. “Do you have children?”
    “Not yet. One of these days, though.”
    “What does your husband do?” Julien stole a glance at the sporty blue BMW coupe she was leasing.
    “Goodness, look at the time.” Zoe stared at her watch. “Mrs. Woodmore expected me five minutes ago. I probably should go inside. Maybe we can talk later.”
    “Yes, of course. I’ll park your car around the side until you’re ready to leave. The butler’s name is Edward, by the way.”
    “Thanks.”
    “It’s great seeing you, Shelby. It truly is.”
    Zoe smiled at her Julien, then straightened her dress and walked up to the front door. Before she could ring the bell, a middle-aged African-American man in a dark suit opened the door.
    “Edward, I’m Shelby Sieger,” she said. “Mrs. Woodmore’s expecting me.”
    “Yes, ma’am. She’s waiting in the sunroom. She said you’d know how to find it.”
    “Thanks.”
    Zoe took a slow deep breath, then walked past the polished oak staircase, through the elegant blue and white parlor, and down a long hallway painted deep yellow and trimmed with white crown moldings.
    She stopped in the doorway of the glass room, rendered speechless by the splendor of the massive live oaks that formed a basket weave of shade over the exquisitely manicured grounds.
    “Heart stopping, isn’t it?” Adele’s voice had aged, but her southern drawl was a dead giveaway. “Hello, Shelby.”
    “Hello, Mrs. Woodmore.” Zoe turned her gaze to her former employer, who was seated on the gold, blue, and green floral print love seat. Adele’s hair was snow white now, and she was too thin, but her charming smile was as disarming as ever. She still wore a simple gold cross around her neck.
    “Come here and let me look at you, hon.”
    Zoe went over to Adele and extended her hand. “I appreciate your agreeing to meet with me on such short notice.”
    “I was thrilled when you called. I’ve been praying for you all these years. And your family. I know your mama’s health was failing when you left here. Did she pass?”
    Zoe’s heart began to pound. Was she crazy to think she could do this? How could she undo all those lies—or even remember them all? How could she tell Adele the truth about why she left? What if Adele had her arrested?
    “Oh, hon, you’re all flushed and perspiring. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ve just wondered about how things turned out, that’s all. Please sit wherever you like. That white chair behind you is luscious.”
    Zoe took two steps back and sank into the chair.
    “Would you care for a glass of iced raspberry tea and some homemade butter cookies? I