Page 13 of The Lady on Esplanade
“Probably something more serious, like a fiancée.”
Icy chills tiptoed across my bones.“No, she didn’t, maybe because she knows my history with Cooper and how devastated I was when he left.”
“Uh-huh.”His eyes didn’t return to my face.
“Beau—what are you trying to tell me?”
He seemed reluctant to meet my eyes.“There’s a woman here.I’ve been trying to ignore her, but she’s very persistent.She’s been standing behind Cooper’s chair since we sat down.”
“Okay,” I said slowly.“What makes you think she’s a significant other?”
Beau eyed me steadily as he spoke.“She’s wearing a big diamond on her left hand and she definitely wanted me to notice it.She’s also…” He stopped.Frowned.
“She’s also what?”
“Angry.Maybe at Cooper.I’m not sure.”
“Can you ask her who she is and why she’s here?Ask her why she’s angry.”
His face seemed to close, like a curtain being drawn across a stage.“I’d rather not.”
I raised my eyebrows.“Excuse me?”
“I don’t want to engage.It gives unrestricted access to other spirits, who think they can just barge in and talk to me at any time, and unless you want me to burst out singing an ABBA song and slap my hands over my ears, you should respect my wishes.”
I leaned forward so the server couldn’t hear me hissing at him.“If by ‘other spirits’ you mean your mom, all I can say is that you should be ashamed of yourself.She saved your life, or have you already forgotten?And excuse me for pointing out the obvious, but maybe if you’d been listening to her all along, you wouldn’t have almost died, and maybe—just maybe—you would have known about Sunny when she first showed up, and you probably would have found out what happened to your father by now.”
His face darkened, his expression almost like a slap.“You have no idea—”
He stopped abruptly, shifting his focus back to his renovation notes when Cooper returned to the table.
“So, where were we?”Cooper asked.
I picked up my water glass and took my time emptying it.
Beau cleared his throat.“We were just saying that if you’re really interested in the house, you might want to talk with the sellers.Since they’re related to the original owners, they might be able to give you a bit of background on who lived there before and how the living spaces were utilized.”
“Sounds great to me,” Cooper said.“I share Nola’s passion for old houses and appreciate that they’re not just places where people live.They’re vessels of history, really.And the sisters might be able to shed some light on who the barefoot little boy might be.I’m okay with sharing the house with him”—Cooper moved his chair closer to the table—“as long as he’s friendly.”
Cooper jerked his head, glancing behind him as he rubbed hisneck—the kind of thing people do when they sense someone standing behind them.While I watched, a thin line appeared on his jaw, starting as a dot and then expanding to something darker and wider—a red scratch that could have been caused by an unseen fingernail.
“Cooper…” I began, my words forgotten before they left my mouth, as a loud clap of thunder shook the restaurant and the vase on our table fell over and shattered, scattering water, flowers, and glass onto Cooper.
CHAPTER 5
The following morning I was met at the corner of Royal Street and Canal, the pickup point I’d designated with twelve-year-old entrepreneur Trevor Williams.I’d first met him during a run through Washington Square Park, where I’d found him on a bench, selling various items that I didn’t know I needed until I saw them and heard his sales pitch.They included my bike and the flowered basket he’d found to put on it—at an extra charge.Trevor was small for his age and therefore appeared more vulnerable and needy than he actually was.He most definitely used this to his advantage, his appeals always leading me to spend more money than I could afford on things I didn’t need.
The rain continued to soak the city, concealing treacherous potholes from drivers and pedestrians alike, the saturated earth reminding everyone that this part of the world existed below sea level, the vengeful Mississippi River and the jealous Gulf fighting a constant battle with the land over ownership.As I looked around me now, it appeared the water was winning.
Trevor carried a ginormous blue and white golf umbrella with thename of a golf course in Dunwoody, Georgia, emblazoned on the top.I never asked Trevor where he procured his wares, but I believed him when he told me he never stole anything.He was incredibly smart for his age, and I expected that forgetful tourists were responsible for most of his inventory, and for the growth of his savings account.The account had been set up for him by Christopher Benoit, who’d become a mentor for the fatherless Trevor.The young boy lived with his grandmother and some of his nine siblings in a house in the Bywater, and I’d never met any of them, despite frequent attempts on my part.Even Christopher had given up trying to set up a meeting.In any case, Trevor now worked at the Past Is Never Past, doing odd jobs, learning about antiques, and saving money to buy his own home computer.
“Good morning, Miss Nola.”He greeted me with his trademark smile.I’d told him many times to call me just Nola, but he said his meemaw had drilled good manners into him and he wouldn’t want to disappoint her.He moved the umbrella to cover us both, lessening the sound of the rain bouncing off the shiny yellow hood of my rain jacket.Its previous owner had bedazzled a pink unicorn on the back, and Trevor had sold it to me for only twenty dollars—a considerable deal—since he hadn’t had any other takers.
“I’m thinkin’ about buildin’ me an ark and selling tickets if this rain don’t stop,” he said, still grinning.
“Please reserve a seat for me.”I frowned at the waves of water splashing up onto the sidewalk from a passing car.“I’m wondering if I should let you keep the bike for today and try walking.If I ride into one of these potholes, I might not be found until summer.”
“You need a car,” he said, his expression thoughtful.“You know how to drive yet?”
