“I love the Mercedes parked in the driveway.” Gale smiled and stared at an unusual gaudy copper statue of a man and woman entwined with each other. “This has to be French.”
Tim rolled his eyes and grabbed Gale’s hand. “Let’s move along before we offend any more of the man’s house, shall we?”
“What, I’m not saying anything that isn’t true. Anytime you see something as flamboyant as that. It’s typically a French piece. I do have an eye for antiques, remember?” Gale looked at André. “Am I right?”
André chuckled. “Yes, you are. There are quite a few French ornate pieces throughout the house. But what can you say being of French descent and living in New Orleans? Go on into the parlor; the rest of the group is there. Help yourselves to a drink. Philippe makes a mean hurricane.”
“Oh, yes, I
