Page 60 of The Shop on Royal Street
“Seriously? They’re funny?” I moved to stand behind her andwatched as Thibaut waved at the camera as he walked closer, and tripped over his own feet, taking the camera with him.
“I’m serious. And Jaxson and I aren’t the only ones who appreciate their little routine—we’ve got over thirty thousand followers already. Which is something, because home-improvement videos are huge. I guess the comedy part adds something fun to the usual renovation video.”
“That’s good, I guess. I mean, hopefully it will turn up some new clients for Beau’s company, since publicity is basically how I’m paying him. Are the commenters local?”
Jolene scrolled down. “Mostly—at least the ones who say where they are. There’s actually one guy who comments a lot, and he says his home is in New Orleans. He must have his notifications set for alert, because he always comments as soon as I post a video.” She was silent for a brief moment as she moved the cursor down the screen. “Yep! First comment on the video I sent not ten minutes ago. Michael Hebert.”
I leaned closer to read his comment.Love seeing the progress of this reno. Can’t wait to see what you might find hidden in those walls!
Straightening, I said, “Why is that name so familiar?”
“Well, maybe because Hebert is probably the third most popular name in New Orleans. And Michael has been popular since the archangel Michael got his wings. Although, come to think of it, the name is familiar to me, too. Not as in I think I know him; it’s just that I recall his name being called—like in roll call for a class. Maybe I went to grad school with him or something. Which would make sense, since he’s obviously interested in old-house renovations.”
“I’ll be right back.” I returned to my bedroom to retrieve the jeans I’d worn the day before, which were helpfully still on top of the pile of clothes where I’d tossed them. I fished out the piece of paper Mimi had given me, then returned to the dining table.
I placed it in front of Jolene. “Same spelling?”
She nodded. “Where did this come from?”
“Mimi gave it to me. It’s the name and contact info for the guy who walked into the Past Is Never Past looking for Maison Blanche artifacts—like doors and other fixtures. She didn’t mention that I had one, but promised to be on the lookout.”
“Well, if he lives on Audubon Place, he can certainly shell out a lot of money for your door.”
I snatched the paper. “Et tu, Brute?Mimi said the same thing. It’smydoor and it’s staying inmyhouse.” I looked down at the address again. “What’s so special about Audubon Place?”
“Well, it’s private, for one—they’ve got a security hut and a No Trespassing sign at the front. They actually hired Israeli commandos to guard the twenty-eight homes right after Katrina, which didn’t endear them to the rest of the city but worked, because none of the houses got looted. It’s some of the most prime real estate in New Orleans, all worth well into the millions and mostly built in the last decade of the nineteenth century and first part of the twentieth century.”
“I wonder why he’s looking to buy old department store fixtures.”
“Same reason why we would if we hadn’t found the door in the house, Nola. My guess is, he’s restoring a house.”
“Would make sense, I suppose.” I grabbed another muffin, remembering to eat this one over a napkin. “I saw a guy yesterday at the park after my run. He was about our age and I was pretty sure he was staring at me.”
“In a disturbing way?”
“Not really. I think I’ve seen him on my runs before, but this was the first time I got a close-up of him. He sat on one of the benches by the fountain, but didn’t say anything even though he smiled at me. Maybe he just wanted to cool off, too. It’s not like I’m the only person allowed on those benches.”
“You know, Nola, he could have been just wanting to meet you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Right. Even you’ve accused me of stealing clothes from Goodwill to go running in. I highly doubt that. Anyway, when I was in the truck with Beau later, I was pretty sure I saw the same guyon a bicycle, and he turned into Audubon Place. I know this is a huge leap, and it could all be a huge coincidence...” I let the word trail away.
“But there’s no such thing as coincidence,” Jolene said slowly, voicing the unspoken words in my own head. Closing her laptop, she stood. “There’s one way we can find out. If you can do a power walk today instead of a run, I’ll come with you. I’ve got an idea.”
“Would you like to tell me your idea first? Just in case it involves me speaking to strange men?”
“Trust me, Nola.” She began walking toward her bedroom. “Don’t forget your hairbrush. You might want to use it before putting your hair in a ponytail. If it was Halloween I’d stick acorns in it so you could go as a squirrel’s nest.”
“Very funny,” I said to her closed door. After grabbing another muffin, I retreated into my bedroom to throw on my running attire.
Despite it taking me less than five minutes, Jolene was already changed and waiting by the door. She looked like an advertisement for Lululemon, her leggings, jog top, and head wrap in a matching floral pattern of soft pinks and greens. Her hair had been pulled back into a high ponytail and she’d put on fresh lipstick.
“Seriously, Jolene? I thought we were going to exercise in the park, not going to a cocktail party.”
“Good to know, since you look like you’re dressed to panhandle and I’m not even sure that’s legal here. Seriously, Nola. How old are your shorts?”
I looked down at my USC shorts I’d been wearing since tenth grade. They were faded to a mottled blue, with a quarter-sized hole on a side seam, and hem threads dangling like fringe from the bottom. “High school. But they still fit and they’re comfortable.”
Her eyes widened. “Well, bless your heart.” She opened the French door at the top of the stairs and motioned for me to go first.
