Page 23 of One Last Regret

“Yes, I suppose you do. I love you too. Talk to you soon.”

He hangs up, and I send him pictures of the front page ofVie Apres a la Mort.I feel a little better with his help. The truth is that Iwasstarting to worry about the danger I was putting myself in. The high society of the New Orleans jazz scene is a lot more cutthroat than I imagined, and they don’t like having their secrets exposed. With Sean on the case, I don’t need to put myself in the middle as much.

And I reallyshouldfocus my attention on Annie. I’ve once more traveled somewhere to find answers about her only to become embroiled in a scandal that isn’t any of my business.

My brow furrows in annoyance as I realize that Sean is right. Hedoesknow me very well.

When I arrive home, I see the car in the driveway. I freeze, my mouth open in shock. I thought I would have more time, but the Lacroix’s are home now.

And I’m carrying the cursed music in my purse.

I quickly zip the bag up so the music isn’t visible and pray that they haven’t noticed it missing from the parlor yet. My heart pounds as I walk up the steps, and when I walk inside and find the family in a state of near frenzy, my fear increases.

Etienne is arguing with his mother. The children are nowhere to be seen.

“This foolish rivalry will bankrupt us!” He shouts. “No, I misspoke. It will bankruptyou. I’m going to make sure that your stubbornness doesn’t impact my children.”

Josephine’s eyes are red and puffy. She’s not crying right now, but the tracks in her makeup show clearly that she has recently. I don’t hear her response to Etienne’s attack because she sees me and hisses, “Etienne, hush!”

Etienne turns to me and presses his lips together. He lowers his eyes and says in a calmer voice. “I apologize, Mary. You weren’t meant to hear that.”

I don’t have the presence of mind to say anything but a rather flimsy, “That’s all right.”

“I’ll be leaving on business for the next four days. I entrust the children to your care, Mary.”

“Of course. Travel safely, Mr. Lacroix.”

He gives me a brief smile, then heads upstairs. Josephine doesn’t meet my eyes. I hesitate, unsure if I should offer her some tea or coffee or if I should just leave her alone.

The spell is broken when the grandfather clock chimes the hour. Josephine stirs and lifts her eyes to mine. She smiles sadly and says, “Tragedies ripple across lives like water, don’t they?”

I understand exactly what she means. “Yes. Across time too.”

Her eyes widen slightly at that. She opens her mouth as though to say something else, but then her eyes shift to the right, and she closes her mouth. She nods and says, “You should go tend to the children. I’m afraid they likely heard that argument.”

“Of course. Don’t worry about them, ma’am. They’re in good hands.”

She nods, but her eyes have moved from me and lost their focus. I don’t impose on her energy anymore.

Etienne and I pass each other on the stairs. He’s carrying his own luggage, and a disconcerted Henri is following him. Henri gives me a longsuffering look, one I’ve seen on the faces of many household staff when their employers are in the middle of a temper tantrum. Etienne says nothing to me.

The children are in Amelia’s room. It occurs to me that I’ve never seen them in Gabriel’s room. I’ve never actually seen Gabriel’s room. I wonder why that is, but my curiosity is not important right now.

The children have clearly heard the argument. They sit on the edge of the bed, slumping forward with their eyes downcast. The TV is playing a cartoon I don't recognize, something abouta young boy whose wristwatch allows him to shapeshift into aliens.

In my twenty-five years as a teacher, I dealt with many cases of children upset because of family conflict. I know from experience that approaching the subject directly will cause children to close off more often than not.

So I start with what truly matters. “How are you feeling, children?”

Rather than answer me, Amelia stands and takes Gabriel’s hand, leading him from the room. I assume they’re going to Gabriel’s room, and I don’t intend to force them to talk, but Idoneed to make sure they’re not trying to leave the house. Running away is another all too common response to this kind of conflict, especially after a tragedy like the one this family has suffered.

They don’t enter Gabriel’s room. Instead, they enter their grandmother’s room. I frown and call, “Children, let’s leave your grandmother alone for now. Why don’t we—”

“Grandma,” Amelia interrupts. “Can Mary take us to Mardi Gras?”

“That’s enough, Amelia,” I say firmly. “Come on out of your grandmother’s room.

“Sure,” Josephine says. She’s sitting on her bed and looking at a picture of Marcel. She seems distracted.

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