Page 57 of The Shop on Royal Street
I looked at her with surprise.
“Christopher mentioned it. He said he’d recommended the Hotel Peter and Paul. Excellent choice, especially if your stepmother has high standards.”
“Yes, she does.” I felt uneasy at the thought that they had discussedmy family’s visit in any kind of detail. It made me wonder why they had.
“But I’m sure they’ll be visiting your house, even if they won’t be staying there.” Mimi sipped her wine, a pleasant smile gracing her face.
“Of course. They’re very proud of me.”
“As they should be. You’re quite young to be buying your own house and taking on such a massive renovation.” She carefully placed her glass back on the table. “You know, Nola, that JR Properties is in the business of buying up old homes and renovating them. We have a slew of other candidates with far less work that are available. And might even be further along toward being finished by the time your family visits.”
I placed my hands in my lap, no longer pretending to eat, and met her gaze. “I’ve found my house. I know it won’t be easy, but I’ve discovered that the easy path is rarely the right path.”
She nodded and looked down at her plate as if in defeat. “How very true. And how astute you are to have figured that out already, at such a young age.”
Half of my mouth turned up in a reluctant grin. “Kicking and screaming, for sure, but I eventually figured it out.”
Mimi stood and picked up our plates, waving me back when I stood to help. “I’ve got it. Would you care for some coffee?”
I didn’t, but I still had a lot to talk to her about and I needed the excuse to linger. “Yes, please.”
“Good. I’ve already got a pot brewed, so it will just be a minute. Have a seat on the sofa by the window and I’ll be right with you.”
I did as instructed and settled myself into soft cushions covered in cotton damask and an eclectic mix of throw pillows. I leaned against a pale blue one with a honeybee embroidered in gold, listening to the rain hit the window glass like the tapping of invisible fingers. Mimi returned once to remove the food from the table, the second time bringing a tray with a coffeepot and two cups, along with a plate of pralines.
She sat down next to me and poured coffee in both china cupsbefore sitting back. “I invited you tonight to discuss the Maison Blanche door, but it seems as if we’ve already covered it. Although I do think you should call that gentleman who was interested in it. From what I’ve heard about the renovation so far, it would seem you could use the money right now. Artifacts from the department store still show up from time to time, so you could just wait until the rest of the house is finished.”
I took a sip of my coffee, only to allow myself time to respond with something more dignified than an eye roll. “I get what you’re saying, Mimi. But I feel as if that door was meant to be a part of the house. And who knows when another door might show up? Besides, it’s meant to go on the downstairs bathroom, so it’s important that we have the door now.”
Despite her compressed lips, Mimi managed a smile. “All right, then. I understand. I hope it helps you to know that I have already apologized profusely to Christopher. It wasn’t his fault at all. He did plan to move it before my return, and then I came back early. My only excuse is that I was in a terrible mood because I’d been at an estate auction where I’d been outbid on the one thing I’d gone to acquire, a complete set of Chippendale dining chairs. And then, after setting my heart on two Paris street sketches from a lesser-known artist, I lost on that bid, too. It’s no excuse, I realize, but I was in a foul mood when I returned to the shop and jumped at the first thing I saw to be unhappy about.
“Which brings me to my next point. Christopher mentioned that you will need a place to hide your bicycle when your parents are here. It would be my pleasure to store it for you in the off-site storage room for the duration of your parents’ stay. Although”—she took a sip from her cup—“it seems to me that you should just tell them. Nothing has ever been gained by deceit.”
My gaze shot up to meet hers at her word choice. I wasn’t completely sure I was imagining a challenge in her eyes. It was almost as if she knew that I’d found my missing hairbrush, but I couldn’t ask her about it without implicating myself.
“I’ll think about it,” I said as I reached for a napkin and a praline. “Ilove this fabric on the sofa and matching curtains. Is it new?” I nibbled at the praline while forming my next question, half listening to her response about finding the fabric years ago and hanging on to a clipping of it in her handbag until she found the right piece of furniture for it.
I smiled, crumpling my napkin in my hand before leaning forward. “I had breakfast with Bernard Landry last Sunday. He’s the uncle of Beau’s friend Jaxson, and a retired police officer.”
“I know who he is,” she said, her expression suddenly guarded. “He was the first officer on the scene when Jeanne was found. He was the one who was sent to interview me, since I was supposed to be moving in with Jeanne and Louise. He thought I might know something that would help with the investigation. I didn’t, of course, but I told him everything I knew that might have been of some help. We sat on the front porch with my parents and Charles. I remembered then thinking how lucky I was to have found Charles. We weren’t even engaged then, but he stayed right by my side during the whole ordeal.”
I nodded, listening to the constant drumming of the rain outside and beginning to worry about how I was going to get home. “I don’t mean to pry, but since the murder occurred in my house, I feel as if it’s my responsibility to find out what really happened. So I can rest easy, and Jeanne can rest in peace.”
She was already shaking her head before she spoke. “I don’t have anything else to add to my original statements. Jeanne was my best friend, and I was going to move in with her and her cousin Louise. But I never got the chance.”
I savored another slow sip of coffee, trying to find the right way to frame my next question. After gently returning my cup to its saucer, I said, “There’s one piece of information Bernie shared with me that I’m not sure was well-known at the time. Were you aware that Jeanne was pregnant?”
Mimi’s face blanched as she stared back at me. “Pregnant? No. That can’t be right. She was... no. That wasn’t like her at all. I can’t...” She shook her head, unable to finish her sentence.
“I’m guessing, then, that she didn’t confide in you.”
Mimi shook her head again. “Of course not. That’s why I find it so hard to believe. It’s just so unlike Jeanne. She was very devout, and she and her boyfriend, Angelo Benedetti, were saving themselves for each other. I know that’s a foreign thing these days, but back then many of us were very serious about it. Including Charles and me. Which is why I can’t believe...” She shook her head. “It’s not possible. It must be a mistake.”
I just nodded, not wanting to argue with Mimi’s memories. “Do you know if Angelo is still alive?”
“I don’t. He moved away, and we lost touch.”
I nodded. “What about Louise? Have you kept in touch?”
