Page 2 of Undo Me

But not yet.

The locals would be preparing soon. Modern celebrations were nothing like the grand spectacles of the past, of course. The whole city was a bit more somber of late. But it was still the Day of the Dead. Cultures and beliefs united to celebrate and remember those who had come before, and those who had moved on.

Mambo Toussaint was sure to have a grand gathering, particularly with all the good news she’d experienced of late. Her son’s return. Her daughter’s romance. He imagined her surprised expression when her favorite Loa joined the festivities as a human male, and grinned.

He could suffer a few more days of hunger and neglect, he thought to himself as he wandered aimlessly through the crowds. Soon enough he would feast.

“I can’t believe you’re finally here.” Michelle wove her car in and out of the late-afternoon New Orleans traffic like a member of the Andretti family. “We were so focused on finding Isabel’s treasure that we weren’t sure what to do with it or ourselves after we finally did. You were the first person I thought of. The only one, really. Plus, it’s a great excuse to get you out of the city and down here where you belong.”

Bethany clutched her seat belt, smiling weakly at her animated friend. She could hardly believe it either, but Michelle had dangled her obsession with Spanish colonization in the Americas like a juicy carrot in her phone calls until she’d relented.

With the promise of personal writings and artifacts, as well as a long-delayed visit with a good friend, Bethany had taken a few anti-anxiety meds and something for motion sickness, and here she was. In a city with enough history to keep her in heaven for years.

She’d always dreamed of coming here, had read everything she could get her hands on about the Crescent City. The parades, drinking and bead-throwing she could do without; but the mystery, the magical allure of New Orleans, had always called out to her.

Unfortunately, answering that call required travel. Since planes made her panicky and airsick, and trains were too crowded and, well, made her panicky, she rarely left her neighborhood, let alone crossed state lines.

It was no secret she was a bit of a hermit. Michelle, however, refused to accept that incontrovertible truth. From the moment she’d moved into the apartment across the hall from Bethany all those years ago, the social butterfly had been determined to make friends. To draw her out. Clearly the woman loved a challenge.

It was an unlikely relationship. Bethany worked from home as a textbook editor, surrounded by her books and her research. Living in the city that never slept meant everything she needed was brought to her door, day or night. It was all so convenient that she’d become a veritable recluse without making the conscious decision to be one.

Michelle, on the other hand, was constantly out on the town. Art galas, well-dressed men coming to pick her up and deliver flowers, as well as indecent proposals on a regular basis, she was a living, breathing big city success story.

Bethany was ashamed to admit she’d rebuffed her neighbor’s overtures more than once. She blamed her insecurities, since technically she could find nothing wrong with Michelle Toussaint, beyond the unusual friendliness that automatically made her suspicious. New Yorkers were not trusting people as a rule.

It hadn’t been until she’d discovered Michelle admiring her rooftop garden that they’d had their first real conversation. In short order Bethany had discovered where Michelle was from, and Michelle discovered that New Orleans was the magic password that turned her shy, anti-social neighbor into an irritating chatterbox.

By the time the sun had set it felt as if they’d known each other all their lives. Bethany had never been so comfortable around another person, had never come to rely on someone’s presence in her life the way she had with Michelle. She should have known it wouldn’t last.

It was Bethany who’d picked her up from the hospital after the mugging, who’d made sure she iced her eye and took her medicine. But she could tell the experience had shaken Michelle far more than she was willing to admit.

She’d gone home to Louisiana shortly after that, and Bethany missed her terribly. Their phone calls and monthly video chats weren’t enough, but they were the only things that kept her sane. And now, four years later, she’d gotten off the plane to find that connection still thrumming between them, as if no time had passed at all.

It would be such a shame if Michelle’s speeding got them killed before they could really catch up.

She forced a teasing smile to her tense lips. “So, you drive now?”

“Don’t start. I already get enough of that from Ben.”

“And he’s still alive? Does that mean your childhood nemesis is really more than your latest distraction and you weren’t trying to punk me?”

When Michelle blushed, Beth did a comedic double take. “As I live and breathe,” she drawled in a fake Southern accent, “I do declare, I have never seen Michelle Toussaint this out of sorts over a man.”

Michelle burst out laughing. “You in N’awlins now, chile,” she said saucily, exaggerating her own natural twang. “Don’t go pokin’ fun at how we talk.”

Leaning back against the headrest, Bethany took a moment to study her friend’s familiar features. “This place looks good on you.”

Michelle had changed since she’d left New York. Physically, she’d gone from curvaceous to finely honed. Her arms were lean and defined. Strong, Bethany knew, from all those defense classes she’d been taking. Her hair fell in wild spirals to her shoulders, where she used to keep it straight or severely slicked back. Her face was free of makeup, yet still glowing. She looked healthy. Happy.

In love.

“Well, New Orleans isn’t New York, but we certainly have our fair share of excitement.” Michelle smiled mysteriously. “And no, I’m not talking about Mardi Gras.”

Before Bethany could prod her for details, they turned into a circular driveway and she was too busy trying to pick her jaw up to concentrate. “Holy shit. This is where you live? Just the two of you? Do you have a map in case you get lost on your way to the bathroom?”

“We have more space to spread out in the South, you know. It’s not all rent-controlled cubbies and mile-high apartment buildings.”

What it was, quite simply, was a gorgeous example of antebellum architecture, complete with white columns reminiscent of the Greek revivalists and wrought-iron whirling around the upper balcony like thriving metal vines. It was beautiful but incredibly imposing. She wanted to run inside and run away at the same time.

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