Excerpt from Glory Be by Danielle Arceneaux, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Glory smiled, then turned her head to one side and then the other. She took her purse off her lap and set it on top of the money. Smile intact, she said, "Child, that is not how business is done around here, you hear me?" She took a sip of her cappuccino, then whispered, "Next time, the money goes in an envelope. Don't put my name on it and don't seal it, so I can count it."

She pulled her purse, and the money beneath it, closer to her and let them both fall on her lap. She pulled out a royal-blue leather journal and scribbled in it.

"We good?" he asked, looking at the door and itching to go.

"We good." As he stood up, Glory grabbed his sweater sleeve. "And next time, I would appreciate it if you made some chitchat. Buy some coffee. Support a local small business. I know your mama taught you better."

She released her grip on his shirt, and he walked out, but not before running straight into Beau Landry. Even though Lieutenant Landry was in uniform, Keller Benoit barely acknowledged him or the collision. He stormed toward his flashy sports car, shooing away two kids leaning on the hood of his banana-yellow convertible and snapping selfies with their cell phones.

Like everyone that day, Lieutenant Landry got his coffee after Gus consulted his training manual. Landry's silvery hair was cropped short, and his pastel-blue eyes jumped out against his swarthy skin. He was white the way a lot of people in Louisiana were white, with a drop of something wicked from generations ago.

With a paper coffee cup in hand—emblazoned with the new logo—he walked over to Glory's table and sat down.

"What's going on with all the new stuff inside here today? I see Noah did some spiffing up." He crinkled the cellophane of an individually wrapped piece of praline candy. Tiny crumbs of browned butter and pecans fell onto the table as he bit into the sugary confection.

"Something about marketing," she said, waving her hand toward the merchandise.

"Funny seeing you here. I was just thinking about your mama the other day."

Glory's mother, Viola Williams Broussard, was the grand dame of Carencro, Louisiana. For nearly forty years, she worked as the help for several families and raised generations of children, including Lieutenant Landry. She didn't suffer, not with that big old stroke. When her funeral came around, more than twenty of the kids she'd raised, grown-ups by then, came and showed their respect at Blessed Sacrament for mass. Sister Amity Gay, who was as much a daughter to her as Glory was, led a rosary in Creole at the wake. Even Cardinal Johnson was dispatched for the service.

"They don't make them like that anymore," he said, recoiling when his lips grazed the scalding coffee. He lowered the volume on his police radio, which was more active than usual that morning. "I hate to say it, but she was more of a mother figure than my own mama."
Glory tapped his hand. "Remember when I'd babysit you and put curlers in your hair? You sure did howl."

"I wish I had enough hair to put in curlers now," he said, raking his hand through his hair from back to front. "Sure do miss that woman. And I know how much you miss her, how hard it's been on you with everything else."

She nodded, then stared out the window to try to suppress the flow of tears that came whenever someone brought up her mother. As it turns out, tears aren't just a physical reaction, but a feeling. Lieutenant Landry's radio continued to squawk.

Requesting available units near Bonaire and Highland to respond to a 911 call about a deceased woman at 361 Bonaire, apartment 6J. Possible suicide. Any nearby units, please respond.

"Sure was good to see you, Glory, but I ..."

Glory stood up. "Amity."

"Glory, I don't know what you're ..."

"That address on the radio. That's my friend. That can't be ..." She took a step but went woozy, gripping the table for support. The blue mug with gold lettering crashed to the floor, smattering into chunks and shards. Noah Singleton raced over, and both men grabbed an arm to help her back into the chair.

Excerpted from Glory Be by Danielle Arceneaux. Copyright © 2023 by Danielle Arceneaux. Excerpted by permission of Pegasus Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.