Chapter 4 - miss gabby

The nursing home was beautiful, but none of them are really homes. I didn't know what to expect, until I slowly caught her eye.

"Oh my good Lord in heaven!"

I ran toward the cheery African American woman and embraced her. "Miss Gabby!"

"Savannah Daphne! I knew I would see you again one day! Your great aunt..."

"I know." And just like that, we were both crying.

"You missed the funeral, baby", she said.

"I know, I know. She left me the place...can you believe it?" I asked.

"I can. She loved you very much. So if Belle Rive is yours...the house will have a new generation! That's great, I'm tired of this place you know...I wasn't ready to quit, but your auntie didn't need the help anymore. You'll need a cook back..."

"I'm probably gonna sell the place", I said, pinching up my face. "Sorry."

She looked for a moment like she might crumble. "Belle Rive...outta family hands?"

"My life is in Los Angeles, I can't just pick up and move."

"Of course you can....YOU..."

She pointed at James. "What do you have to say about all this?"

"There is nothing I can say about it, m'am, I didn't inherit, Savannah did."

"It's Savannah already? Shouldn't it be Miss Savannah?" Gabby pointed out. James and I met eyes and smiled.

"Miss Gabby has spent generations lookin after your family's girls", James informed me.

"I know that. My mother told me stories about how you gave her hell over my name..."

"Language!" Miss Gabby shouted.

"Sorry." Where I lived the past 20 years, people said the f word every ten seconds.

"Name a child after the city where she was conceived. Ridiculous", Gabby moaned, "I always said it's a good thing they didn't take their honeymoon in New Orleans."

I stuck my tongue out at her.

"You still eatin my pie?" she asked James.

"It's all gone now, m'am."

"I gave you that pie two days ago! Bet you didn't share it with nobody neither", she laughed.

"Only a fool would give away your sweet potato pie, besides, you know I don't have anyone to share it with.", he said.

She frowned. "I been trying to do somethin about that."

"I know you are, m'am." He laughed. "I'll give you a minute, meet you out front", he said to me, left, and gave us some privacy.

"He's such a nice man. His wife...well it wouldn't be Christian to say..."

I knew her better than that, she wanted to say it all right.

"She cheated on him", I said.

"She did. And she didn't even cook anything! What kinda southern woman doesn't cook? Did she see the size of that man when she married him? Them $20 salads in Charleston ain't gonna do it for a man his size. He needs some proper home cooking....you cook for your husband in Los Angeles?"

I rolled my eyes.

"You know very well I'm not married, Miss Gabby."

"Maybe you spend some time here, maybe you find a husband, maybe you keep the house...." She started.

Ugh. "And you know I also can't boil water!" I said, trying to change the subject.

"That's a shameful thing", she said. "Maybe you learn to cook, maybe you find a husband, maybe you keep the house..."

"Miss Gabby!!"

"Oh all right! You can't blame me for tryin. In the meantime, you do me one favor, I won't say another word about it", she said.

"What's that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't look uppity at your elders", she said, "You learn how to make a sweet potato pie, you have James Devereaux over to eat it, then I close my mouth."

I wish she hadn't tempted me with something that part of me desperately wanted. I wouldn't become one of these women, it was just one pie, I wasn't becoming an obedient Betty Crocker.

"One pie", I said.

"One pie", she confirmed.

"Done. When do you want to come over to Belle Rive?" I asked.

"Ain't no time like the present."