Page 38 of The Shop on Royal Street
“True. But she wanted me to meet Thibaut—get my take on him. From what I’ve seen, I like him. And it looks like he knows what he’s doing.”
“I guess that makes sense—since he’s now an official employee of the family company.”
“And he and Jorge seem to get along like long-lost brothers. They’re both into juggling—did you know that? Ask them to show you their tool-juggling routine, where they throw sharp tools at each other and juggle them. Pretty amazing.”
I nodded. “I can’t wait to see it.”
As if hearing my unasked question, he said, “Mimi has an attachment to the house, as you can imagine. She’ll always have a sentimental interest in it, whether or not she still owns it. It was the first rental property Mimi and her husband bought together after they were married in 1964, even though they kept it empty for about a year before renting it, out of respect for Jeanne. Before Beau took over, Mimi handled all the rentals and would personally visit each property, but she never once entered this house. She let Dr.Ryan take care of it. She wanted to keep tabs on it, but it was too hard for her to be more involved because of what had happened here.”
“I wonder why they bought it at all, but maybe she felt better knowing it was going to be taken care of, as a way of honoring her friend. I hope you conveyed to her that the house is in good hands. And will make a great home for me as soon as I can fix it up.”
Christopher nodded, looking behind me toward the denuded kitchen. “Jolene stopped by the store yesterday to give me something for Beau and mentioned that your family is planning a visit in October.” He returned his attention to me. “I guess they won’t be staying here then.”
I almost laughed. “My stepmother can be a little high maintenance and appreciates her creature comforts. Like running water and electricity. She also enjoys room service and fluffy robes. So no. Not here and definitely not at my apartment uptown. I don’t want to witness the power struggle between Melanie and Jolene about the organization of silverware in the drawers and the placement of furniture. Not to mention that I don’t do room service. My brother and sister might find it fun camping out on the floor in my room, though, as long as Jolene doesn’t mind. I guess I need to start thinking about it. Melanie has a long list of requirements, so it might take me a while.”
The floorboards above us creaked, but neither one of us looked up. “It’s an old house,” I said.
His amber-colored gaze remained on me, but he didn’t say anything.
“I’ve been receiving a lot of unsolicited help from Melanie’s friend Sophie, who is a professor of historic preservation in Charleston. There’s only one piece of advice I’ve really paid attention to. She told me that each old house has its own language, and that eventually I’ll learn to speak it fluently.”
Christopher smiled. “I like that.”
“And about my family’s visit, would it be all right if I hid my bike at the store while my parents are here? I will never hear the end of it if they learn I’ve been pedaling through the French Quarter on a bike and not wrapping myself in Bubble Wrap. It’s just easier for them to assume I walk everywhere.”
“I’ll ask Mimi. It shouldn’t be a problem, though. She’ll be back tomorrow, so I’ll let you know. Or you could just tell your parents. You’re an adult now, you know.”
I looked at him to see if he might be joking so I could laugh, but then I remembered he’d never met Melanie and Jack. “Right,” I said. “Or we can store it out of sight for the duration of their visit.”
“Sure,” he said slowly. “Now, as far as hotels are concerned, I highly recommend the Hotel Peter and Paul. You’ve probably seen it—it’s right down the street in the Marigny, on the corner of Mandeville and Burgundy. It used to be a church, school, convent, and rectory, all builtaround 1860, but was abandoned a couple of decades ago. It was real sad seeing that happen. I grew up with some of the kids who went there. The restoration and reuse of the buildings are nothing short of a miracle. The convent has been converted into an ice-cream parlor called Sundae Best. Great handcrafted ice cream with traditional and New Orleans flavors. I highly recommend the Cold Testament Sundae. I don’t believe they have any vegan options, though—but the rest of your family might enjoy it.”
My mouth had actually started watering. “Right. I’ll definitely check it out. Quick question: Are the guest rooms anywhere in or near the church area? Like, where there were once funerals?”
“I don’t think so, but I could find out.”
I shook my head. “I’ll go check it out myself. Melanie sometimes has a hard time sleeping in places where those that should be sleeping... well, aren’t.”
Christopher grinned. “She might have trouble sleeping in New Orleans, then.”
Anticipating my next question, he said, “Jorge and Thibaut will be right back. They’ve been tearing through the walls and dismantling the plumbing in the upstairs bathroom and they needed to get some air. They’ve got all the windows open and the fans blowing, but they recommended that I don’t go up there right now.”
“Good advice. Do you know if they’ve managed to open up that door at the top of the stairs?”
His eyebrows shot up. “A locked door?”
“I think it’s just a closet, but it’s been nailed shut. Not sure when, but it was that way the first time I ever saw the house.”
Christopher scratched the back of his head. “Since Mimi never came inside the house, she wouldn’t have known. And because rental properties often have owners’ closets, the tenants wouldn’t have reported it.” He started to climb the stairs to get a look, then stopped abruptly and retreated. He waved his hand in front of his nose. “On second thought, I’ll wait.”
“Beau doesn’t know, either. He said he’s never had a key to thatdoor—not that it matters, since it’s nailed shut—and was told that it’s full of junk. But since there are no other closets upstairs at all, it would be nice to be able to use that one.”
The front door opened and Thibaut and Jorge entered, chattering in Portuguese. The difference in their heights was almost comical, but the expressions on their faces weren’t. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
Thibaut said, “Another gris-gris showed up on the doorstep this morning and Jorge thinks we need to get the house blessed by a priest.”
Both Thibaut and Jorge looked at me expectantly. I should have anticipated that buying a house in New Orleans would be anything but normal. “Was it good gris-gris?” I asked, not even sure what it was I was asking.
“Yes, ma’am. And I explained that to Jorge, but he still thinks the house needs a priest.”
