Page 27 of The Shop on Royal Street
Jolene was bent over the oven to remove a tray of cookies before placing them on top of the stove to cool. Despite the obvious fact that she was baking, her hair seemed freshly brushed, and she was wearing a pink and white polka-dot romper and the shoes she referred to as her “sittin’ down” shoes, meaning (as she’d explained) that they were pretty to look at but not meant for dancing. Her one concession to domesticity was an apron with the wordGRITSembroidered on it, and underneath it, in smaller letters,Girl Raised in the South.
“Sit right down, Nola. You’re panting like a bloodhound after the hunt.”
“I feel like one. Maybe I should start running again and get back in shape.”
Jolene made a face. “Or come to Pilates with me. The only running I’m going to be doing is if I have to run away from someone or something, and if my butt ever gets too big to haul ass, then I’ll just have to make two trips.” She removed a monogrammed pitcher of sweet tea and poured me a glass. “I hope you don’t mind, but I put my kitchen things in the cabinets. I took up a lot of space, so if you have dishes or pots you need to store, just let me know and I can rearrange things. The cabinets were all empty, so I wasn’t sure if you’d unpacked everything yet.”
I had only one plate and cup, which I washed every time I used them, as well as a hot pot and a single warped saucepan. Melanie had wanted to make a run to Target when she was in town, but I declined. My parents had already done so much, and I needed to prove that I was capable of setting up my own apartment.
I looked around at the cuteWizard of Oz–themed dish towels hung on the oven handle and the matching ceramic jars on the counter. “Well, since you’ve gone to all that trouble of unpacking and putting things away, we might as well leave it. It’s a good thing you brought your monogrammed pitcher, though, since I forgot mine.”
“Oh, yes. Grandmama gave me that and my own deviled-egg plate for graduation. She said every Southern cook should have both.”
“Of course.” I took several gulps of tea, spotting a china serving plate loaded with already-cooled cookies. “Is there a party I don’t know about?” I asked as I sat down on the kitchen stool and listened to my stomach rumble.
“No, but Jaxson said he was going to stop by after work on his way to see his parents. They live on State Street, so it’s close by. He said he had something for me, although he wouldn’t tell me what it was. I thought he might need a snack.”
Jolene opened up a cabinet to pull out a plate, and placed two cookies on it. “They don’t have any meat in them, so you can eat them,right?” She handed me the plate, and I recognized the old Wedgwood Blue Willow pattern from Trenholm Antiques.
I was too busy staring at the inside of the cabinet to correct her. “You have an entire set of china?”
“Of course. Fifty full place settings, including demitasse cups and soup bowls. My mama and grandmama and all the women in my family have always picked out their china patterns when they turned twelve. This one belonged to my great-great-grandma and I’ve always loved it, so I asked for it instead of a new set. I just love that it’s part of my family’s history.”
“Me, too.” I took another sip, washing down an emotion I couldn’t name. I looked down at the cookies on my plate, stuffed with chocolate chips and pecans. “What kind of cookies are these?”
“They’re sort of my own invention. They’re basically chocolate chip cookies with pecans and sea salt. My cousin DeeDee calls them better than sex.”
I was so hungry and they smelled so good that I didn’t really care if they weren’t vegan, since I wasn’t really sure if I’d come by veganism legitimately. Nor did I care that they were stuffed with Melanie’s three main food groups: sugar, carbs, and chocolate. I took a bite and chewed slowly. “Please tell your cousin that she’s right. These are amazing.”
Her cheeks pinkened. “Thank you.” She added two more cookies to my plate. “You need to keep up your energy with all of your renovating, biking, and walking. We can’t have you wasting away.”
“Absolutely not,” I said, picking up my second cookie. “Especially now, since I might be walking to St. Francisville to do fieldwork for a work assignment. My firm has been hired to work on a new railway line, so I have to go assess two existing historic structures on the site. The other architectural historian is already working on a project in the Warehouse District. I apparently drew the short stick, so now I have to go to St. Francisville. And since I don’t drive...” I picked up another cookie to distract me from thinking about how I was supposed to get there.
“What? That’s a two-hour drive. There’s no way you’re going to be walking that. Did you tell your boss that you don’t drive?”
I took a bite out of the third cookie. “That’s the thing. When I took the job I sort of didn’t mention it. I knew that fieldwork would be a good portion of my job—I mean, it’s a civil engineering firm and they have projects all over the state, so I never assumed everything would be in the metro area. But I just sort of thought that I’d always have one of the architects accompany me, and since everyone has a car, I’d just planned on riding with whoever was assigned to work with me.”
“But it’s just you.” I nodded while Jolene put two more cookies on my plate. “Either you’re going to have to learn how to drive and buy a car lickety-split, or find someone to take you.”
I smiled hopefully. “What’s your workload like next week? If I pay for gas and wear and tear on your car, would you consider driving me?”
“Oh, honey, I wouldn’t charge you a penny. But I can’t do it. I’ve been assigned as the project manager for a new rebuild in Mandeville starting on Monday and I’ve got to be there all week. We had to fit it in around your house, but since everything is on hold until we can schedule an electrician to come rip out all of your old wiring, we took the job.”
I swallowed the last bite of the sixth cookie, starting to feel a little sick. “No worries. I get it. I guess I’ll just have to tell my boss, and we’ll figure out something.” I drained my glass, trying to swallow my fear of losing my job.
The doorbell rang and Jolene froze. “Oh, my goodness. He’s here.”
“Is he early?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t give me a time—just said he’d drop by to give me something and it was a surprise.”
I didn’t want to point out the obvious, that if he was only dropping by, he wasn’t planning on coming inside and having tea and cookies. I watched as she hurriedly untied her apron and smoothed her hair.
“Look,” I said. “Why don’t I go get the door while you settle down and fix him a plate?” Whether or not he wanted to come in, if I went to answer the door, he’d have no choice.
Jolene pressed her hand against her heart. “Thank you, Nola.” She began running toward her room. “I’ve got to put some color on!”
As I passed through the living room to the stairs, I noticed theburning candles placed on the coffee table and television stand, and I almost didn’t want Jaxson to come up and see them and maybe see what he missed every time he looked into Jolene’s lovestruck eyes.
