Page 69 of The Shop on Royal Street
“Nola?”
I turned around to find Christopher and the customer with whomhe’d been speaking. “Michael,” I said with genuine surprise. “What are you doing here?”
Michael Hebert smiled, and I saw again how his hazel eyes—now green because of his shirt—were fringed with thick, dark eyelashes. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” he said while walking toward us. Almost reluctantly, he turned his attention to Beau, an odd expression on his face. “You look familiar. Have we met? Michael Hebert.” He stuck out his hand and the two men shook.
Beau narrowed his eyes a bit. “Beau Ryan. And you do look familiar. Did you go to Jesuit?”
Michael shook his head. “No. I was sent up north for boarding school. But I went to Christian Brothers before that.”
“That could be it—or maybe I’ve just seen you around town. Or if you’re in the renovation business, maybe at a conference or preservation meeting.”
“That’s a strong possibility. I work for my uncle Robert Sabatier.”
“Oh.” Beau’s expression shifted slightly from one of guarded friendliness to one almost of hostility. “Of the Sabatier Group?”
“Yes. He’s the founder and CEO.”
“I see,” Beau said, the two words stiff, as if they’d been yanked from his mouth.
Christopher approached, cutting through the tension that suddenly clouded the air. “Were your ears burning, Nola? Michael and I were just talking about you—although not by name.” Turning to Michael, he said, “Nola is the woman I mentioned who is renovating the house on Dauphine that your uncle had been interested in buying.”
“Ah, I see. I didn’t realize when we met that your house in the Marigny was the same one. What a coincidence.”
Beau and I shared a quick glance. “Right,” I said. “What a coincidence.” But when I looked back at Michael’s handsome face, his pleasant smile made me forget everything my father had taught me about coincidences.
“Mr.Hebert has been looking for anything related to the downtown Maison Blanche store. He’s been here a few times but hasn’tfound what he’s looking for yet.” Christopher sent me a meaningful glance.
“What sort of things are you hoping to find?” I asked.
“My uncle and I are building new retail space on Magazine Street and we’re trying to find authentic old New Orleans trim and finishes to mix with the contemporary look of the structures. Not just from commercial buildings, but also from old houses. Like leaded glass or stained glass windows, mantelpieces, cabinets, doors. That sort of thing. And anything that can be linked to Maison Blanche is always a selling point.”
“I bet,” Beau said, his tone definitely not congenial anymore.
Christopher sent Beau a warning look before turning back to me. “I mentioned to Michael that someone I knew was restoring a home in the Marigny and might have some salvaged artifacts that the owner might not want to keep. I was going to give you a call so you could decide if you wanted me to handle it, but since you two know each other, I’ll let you take it from here.”
“What exactly are you looking for?” Beau asked, his voice struggling to sound amiable.
Ignoring Beau, Michael turned to me. “Are you free for dinner tonight? We can talk about it then.”
Forgetting the plans I’d made with Jolene, I said, “Yes, I am. That would certainly make it easier.” I felt Beau’s eyes on me, but I didn’t look at him.
“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven, if that works for you? And have you been to Antoine’s yet?”
I hadn’t, but I knew about it, of course. The venerable French-Creole restaurant was world famous as the birthplace of oysters Rockefeller (known for their rich sauce, hence the name), its celebrity patrons, and its food. It also had a strict dress code. The only thing that kept me from wincing was knowing that I had Jolene as my superpower when it came to making myself presentable.
“I don’t think so,” I said, as if I’d forget. “But seven o’clock is perfect. Shall I meet you there?”
“My aunt would scold me if I didn’t pick you up at your door.You’re on Broadway, right? I have the address.” He looked at his watch—a Rolex, of course—and grimaced. “I’m running a bit late for a meeting. It was good to meet you, Beau—or remeet you. And, Christopher, please keep me posted if anything comes in that you think I might be interested in seeing.” Unexpectedly, he took my hand and kissed it. “Something else my aunt taught me.” He grinned his rather spectacular grin. “I’ll see you at seven.”
With a quick wave, Michael left, allowing in a refreshing burst of warm outside air.
“How does he have your address?” Beau asked.
“Long story short, Jolene and I bumped into him on Audubon Place. She, uh, wanted to show it to me since I’d never been. Lots of great architectural styles.” I wasn’t sure why I didn’t want to tell him the whole story, about how I thought I’d seen Michael watching me, and how he’d been to the Past Is Never Past at least once before to ask for Maison Blanche artifacts. Maybe because I saw an opportunity to separate my past from my present, and my personal life from my professional life. I needed to build a boundary around myself and manage who crossed it. Hopefully leaving Beau on the other side.
“Is that really a good idea, Nola? You have no idea who he is, but you’re going to dinner with him?”
“I don’t really think you have any right to concern yourself with my choice of dinner companion.” My gaze slid from his eyes to settle somewhere in the middle of his nose, since every time I looked directly in his eyes I remembered last night. The feel of his lips on mine, and the brief spoken exchange.
