Page 68 of The Shop on Royal Street
“Sounds like a plan,” I said. “Unless we hear from Mardi’s owners and have to drive him somewhere.” As if already recognizing his name, Mardi finished licking the bottom of his bowl, trotted over to me, plopped himself down on the floor by my chair, and commenced to stare lovingly up at me.
Beau’s phone vibrated on the table and he looked down at the screen. “Christopher needs me to stop by the shop. I’d be happy to take an Uber, unless it’s not too far out of your way to the job site, Jolene.”
“Of course. I can drive you, too, Nola, so you don’t have to take the streetcar.” She smiled sweetly at Beau. “It only takes her fifteen minutes to get showered, dressed, and ready.” Her tone made it clear that she didn’t mean it as a compliment.
“You can just drop me off at the shop, too. I can walk to my office from there since I didn’t get a chance for my morning run.” I didn’t add that I wanted an opportunity to talk with Christopher about the text he’d sent Beau. To tell him that I’d seen her, too. And even ask him what he’d meant byIt’s going to get worse.
Jolene stood to clear the dishes, shooing us both away when we offered to help, telling us to stay and finish our breakfast. As soon as she’d finished placing another biscuit on each of our plates and scooping out more fruit, she took the serving pieces and headed back to the kitchen.
“Mimi called me this morning,” Beau said.
The dog began pawing at my leg, begging to be petted. I welcomed the opportunity not to have to look in Beau’s face, since just the sound of his voice brought heat to my cheeks.
“Yes?” I said, focusing on the soft underside of Mardi’s ears.
“She said you forgot the Mr.Bingle doll when you left the other evening. She had Lorda bring it to me at the office to give to you. I was surprised to hear that you’d brought it inside to begin with.”
I swallowed, remembering the red lacy bra and having zero interest in mentioning it then. Or ever. “I brought it in because I thought it might be safer than leaving it in your truck. And I definitely didn’t forget it. I placed it under my backpack when I arrived, and it wasn’t there when I left or I would have seen it.” I found my eyes drifting down to his lips before I quickly jerked them back up.
“Well, Mimi said the bag was inside the front doorway with Mr.Bingle inside. You just forgot—we all do every once in a while.”
“But...” I stopped, noticing the set of his jaw that meant the conversation had ended. I knew I’d brought it inside the house and that it wasn’t there when I left. Someone was lying, and I had no idea who or why. Especially since the doll and bag were safe and back in Beau’s office. Clearly, it was a subject that I should drop. But I was too much my father’s daughter to stop digging just because someone said I should.
“Mimi said she could smell pine and cinnamon when we were having supper. Maybe she could have been smelling the Mr.Bingle doll? Maybe you were sleepwalking then, too, and had taken the doll out of the bag and she smelled it....”
“Really, Nola. I don’t sleepwalk.” He stood and began gathering our empty plates. “I’ll clean up here so you can go ahead and get dressed.”
I hated being dismissed almost as much as I hated it when people who thought they knew more than I did tried to argue with me when I knew better. It was why I’d resented his presence at my grandparents’ antiques shop in Charleston, especially when he’d been made my direct supervisor. That, and the fact that he always insinuated himself into situations where he thought I needed saving, had soured our relationship from the start. Yet it had done nothing to quiet that heat and longing I felt for him. There. I’d admitted it to myself. I wouldn’t call Beau my kryptonite, but it wasn’t too far off the mark. The closer I gotto him, the more I lost a part of myself. I almost relished a fight with him, if only to erase the memory of the night before.
“Did Mimi also mention what I learned from Uncle Bernie about your grandfather?”
A plate clattered on top of the pile he was stacking. “Yeah. She did. And I happen to agree with her. Uncle Bernie has too much time on his hands and is most likely writing a book, like he’s been threatening to do for years. Nothing like a bit of sensationalism to sell a book, right? And now that you own the house, he’s got access to the scene, too. But there’s not one shred of verifiable evidence to back up his accusations, regardless of what he says. Because it didn’t happen. My grandfather loved Sunny and me. He would never have stopped the police from searching for her. You didn’t know him—we did. And Mimi and I would both appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention it again.”
“I get it. But hear me out this one time and then I’ll drop it, but I need to say this to you. What if there is some element of truth? Shouldn’t you at least ask Bernie if you can see the evidence? Even if it doesn’t put your grandfather in the best light, wouldn’t you want to know?” I remembered the scattered words from Beau’s phone conversation the previous night.I know she’s alive or she’d have told me. I’ve been searching for so long and I can’t do this on my own.Softening my voice, I said, “What if your sister is out there but doesn’t know she’s lost?”
His eyes met mine and in that one unguarded moment I knew that he had been thinking the same thing. Then the hood fell over his eyes again. “Go ahead and get dressed. We’re running late enough as it is.” Carrying the pile of plates and the two little jars of honey and jam, he disappeared into the kitchen.
•••
Jolene dropped us off at the shop on Royal Street, making Mardi wave his paw good-bye as I stepped from the car. This, of course, meant I needed to lean in and scratch behind his ears. “Tell them not to cut his ears or tail too short,” I said, not sure why I cared, since he wasn’t my dog and would be going home to his rightful owners shortly.
“And don’t forget these,” she said, handing me a Saks Fifth Avenue shopping bag filled with her wrapped and beribboned biscuits with calligraphed name tags and the stack of flyers. “I made one for Christopher, too. Y’all have a good day, and Mardi and I will see you later!” She waved his front paw again before rolling up her windows, then narrowly missing a parked car on the other side of the street as she pulled away.
Beau opened the door to the shop and I was once again hit by the freezing chill of the space, recalling how Jolene had said no one had been able to fix the thermostat problem despite numerous attempts. Christopher was speaking to a customer in the architectural-remnants part of the store. I couldn’t see whom he was talking with, but the conversation sounded animated, like twoStar Warsenthusiasts meeting at Dragon Con.
Not wanting to interrupt, Beau and I stood uncomfortably next to each other, each pretending not to be aware of the other by watching the blowing price tags of the chandeliers.
Unable to take the silence any longer, I said, “Are you feeling all better now?”
He nodded once. “I am. Thank you.”
“I washed Jorge’s thermos but forgot to bring it with me. I’ll make sure he gets it back tomorrow.”
Beau nodded again while running his hand over the smooth casing of an ancient phonograph.
To fill the quiet, I said, “Thibaut mentioned you were at the house yesterday to take pictures of the upstairs landing and closet. I thought Jaxson was in charge of all of the publicity photos and video.”
His head snapped in my direction, causing me to take a step backward. He hadn’t raised a hand or said anything, but the look in his eyes was... dangerous. “Am I not allowed to take pictures for myself?” His voice didn’t sound like his. It reminded me of the voice he’d used on the phone the night before. A voice full of desperation.
