Page 22 of January

“Remember that joke I made yesterday that my sister isn’t polite, and I’m the polite one?” Jolie asked, joining their conversation.

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s kind of the opposite: she’s the extra polite one. I think it’s a first-born thing in combination with the massive guilt our mother laid on her, but she’s not great with favors or free things. Don’t be surprised if she offers to translate something for you later to help pay you for this.”

“Translate?” Melinda asked, returning her gaze to Kyle.

“My job. I’m a translator. Mostly, instruction manuals, verifying website content, and I’ve done a few books.”

“What language?”

“French,” she replied.

Melinda laughed and said, “You speak fluent French? God, my pronunciation of everything on these tours must be really bothering you, then.”

“It’s not,” Kyle said softly. “Really. Your pronunciation is pretty good, actually.”

“It is? Even with my accent?”

“Your accent is very slight. I hardly noticed it at first,” Kyle said.

“My parents weren’t born here; maybe that’s why. They moved here before I was born, but they’re from Chicago, so they didn’t have an accent. I picked it up around here growing up, but at home, I was surrounded by Yankees.”

Kyle laughed and asked, “Why did they move here?”

“Oddly enough, my grandparents were from here originally, but when my grandpa got a new job, they moved to Illinois. When my parents met, it was like fate because my dad got a job down here, and they moved.”

“So, should we get beignets now or later?” Jolie asked.

Kyle turned to her then, wanting to roll her eyes because she knew Jolie could tell that Kyle was trying to get to know Melinda and didn’t exactly care about a tour of the city.

“It’s always busy there, but it’ll die down in a bit. If we walk for about an hour and come back, there will be a good enough lull that I can sneak us in.”

“Sneak us in?”

“I know just about every business owner in the city. Perk of the job. We don’t usually visit during the food tours because it’s too busy, and I can’t sneak a group that size in, but just the three of us, I might be able to manage. Easier if it’s in a lull, though.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Kyle replied. “We can wait for donuts.”

“Did you just call themdonuts?” Melinda chuckled. “So, first lesson of New Orleans:beignets. I would’ve thought a French translator would be able to get that right,” she teased.

“Oh, I like her,” Jolie said, laughing at Melinda’s joke.

They walked down the other side of the platform, with Jolie taking more pictures of Jackson Square and the statue of the man on horseback. Melinda walked and pointed out things she thought they might be interested in learning about, and Kyle found that she was really starting to enjoy this city. Melinda had been right. Now that they were out of the Quarter more, Kyle could see it. It was beautiful. It was alive. That was the only way she could think to describe it. Where Kyle came from, and maybe it was because of her life growing upwith a mother who seemed to always be wrapped up in chaos, but that place felt dead to her. New Orleans was a whole different part of the world, and it was alive with its art, music, food, and people who had all been so nice. None more so than Melinda, who was pretty cute in her tour guide polo shirt and khaki pants, along with white-and-green tennis shoes.

“I have to get going back to the office,” Melinda said once they’d returned to Jackson Square.

“We can walk you. We’re staying in the Quarter,” Kyle offered.

“You are? I thought you mentioned something about a house.”

“I thought we were getting beignets,” Jolie noted.

“I’m sorry; the walk took longer than I thought it would. But I can get you in another time. Either way, there is a lull now, which means a line only to the street and not all along it, too, but it’s better than how it was, at least.”

“I’ll go grab us some and meet you at the hotel,” Jolie offered. “I want to find out where my Cincy friends are, anyway.”

“Okay,” Kyle replied gratefully. “I can walk you back, at least,” she said to Melinda.

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