That Old Black Magic by Mary Jane Clark Page A

all?
    â€œCome on, little man. Let’s get you cleaned up,” said Wuzzy, adding soap to a washcloth and applying it to Connor’s back. “Rub-a-dub-dub. Three men in a tub.”
    Tears came to his eyes as he heard his son’s mimicry:
    â€œWub-a-dub. Wub-a-dub.”

Chapter 34
    T he aroma of frying beignets greeted Piper when she entered Boulangerie Bertrand at 7:00 A.M. The display cases were full of fresh rolls and enticing pastries. A few customers were already waiting to be helped by two young women wearing pink aprons behind the counter. As Piper entered the kitchen, Bertrand looked surprised to see her.
    â€œI don’t expect you to come in on weekends, Piper,” he said, his eyes briefly shifting their focus from her face to her breasts. “It’s going to be a beautiful day. You should be out there enjoying our belle ville. ”
    Piper smiled uncomfortably and spoke very quickly. “Thanks, Bertrand. Really, though, I want to be here. You’re never going to believe it—I did get the part. I have to shoot today, but my call time isn’t for a few hours. I don’t have to make my way down there until then. So I’d love to spend time watching and learning from you, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to take even more time off while I’m here. And I just want to work as much as I can to make up for that.”
    Bertrand put down his mixing spoon. “You got the part? Magnifique! ” He wiped his hands on his apron and kissed her on the cheek.
    â€œThank you, thank you,” said Piper, stepping back. “I still can’t believe it. But it means that I’ll also be on location tomorrow.”
    Bertrand looked puzzled. “Sunday, too?” he asked. “They shoot on Sunday?”
    â€œSometimes,” said Piper. “They’re on a tight schedule. We’ll be on a sound stage tomorrow.”
    â€œHow wonderful for you, Piper!” said Bertrand, nodding with approval. “Marguerite will be so pleased when she hears it.”
    Piper glanced over Bertrand’s shoulder toward the little room at the back of the kitchen. “Is Marguerite in the office?” she asked.
    â€œNo, she takes the weekends off to go to the gym, get a massage, and do whatever else she desires. My wife works very hard. She deserves some pampering and time to herself.”
    Piper smiled. “That’s smart, Bertrand.” But she found herself wishing that Bertrand’s wife were with them in the bakery.
    P iper helped out at the counter as a steady stream of customers came in throughout the morning. They bought bags of powdered beignets, French almond croissants, and rings of buttery pastry with praline filling and caramel icing sprinkled with sweet southern pecans. Piper noticed that the voodoo cookies were also big sellers. She was about to go to the kitchen to ask Bertrand if he wanted her to try her hand at decorating more cookies when she noticed three men enter the store together. One of them came to the counter and asked to see Bertrand.
    â€œI’ll get him for you,” said Piper.
    Bertrand immediately came out to the front and shook hands with the men. They chatted for a few minutes before he led them back to his office. After about twenty minutes, the men emerged. Piper could hear Bertrand’s instruction to them before he turned back to the kitchen.
    â€œGo ahead, make yourselves at home and get whatever you need. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
    As she continued to wait on customers, Piper was aware of the men’s activity. One took measurements of the space. Another took pictures of the room—the chandeliers, the display cases, and their contents. The third, a man wearing a red shirt, watched intently as the customers ordered and paid for their baked goods. Piper noticed that the man engaged several customers in conversation as they left the store.
    What was he