Page 76 of The Shop on Royal Street
Following me inside, Beau said, “Really? Sounds a little bit like too much of a coincidence, don’t you think? That you’d be on a date with Michael—who has admitted to having an interest in your door but whom I presume you have told it isn’t for sale—while at the same time your house was being ransacked?”
I looked at Beau, trying to process the words coming from hismouth but concentrating mainly on the one word.Coincidence.It took me longer than it should have to find the words to respond. “Oh. I get it. You’re trying to make me focus on something else so I don’t ask you about your grandmother and her weird little room on the second floor of her house on Prytania.”
Even in the dim glow of his phone light, I could see the shock on his face. “What? How did...”
“That night I had to go up and find Tylenol for you. I accidentally entered the room. And I saw my hairbrush. Mymissing hairbrush, which miraculously reappeared in my backpack the following day! I won’t even get started on the Mr.Bingle doll. I want it back. Before it disappears into that weird locked room at your grandmother’s house and I never see it again.”
Only the sound of our heavy breathing interrupted the silence in the room as we stared at each other, all the words we’d just unleashed tumbling soundlessly onto the dusty floor. We didn’t drop our gazes before his phone light dimmed until it was extinguished completely.
“Damn,” Beau muttered under his breath at the same time the sound of footsteps began descending the stairs. They were delicate, like high heels, and definitely those of a woman. And then, just as suddenly as they had started, they were followed by those of a man’s heavier-soled shoes and the pungent smell of pipe tobacco.
“You hear that, don’t you?” I whispered.
Beau didn’t say anything, but I felt his eyes on me. The footsteps continued, moving down the stairs, moving toward us.
“You hear it. I know you do. And you smell the pipe tobacco, don’t you?” My voice had risen a notch. “Beau, admit it. Melanie told me what happened in that attic the night of the fire. How you were the reason why the door opened to let everyone out. So admit that you can hear them. That you can talk to them. Ask them what they want and why they’re still here.” I was shouting now, but I didn’t care. The temperature in the room had dropped and I shivered, seeing my breath rise like smoke in the dirty light of the windows.
“Stop it, Nola. Just stop it. You’re drunk. I can tell. We’ve been down this road before. Just admit it.”
I jerked back as if I’d been struck. “I’m not drunk. I will admit that I had a drink, but that’s it. And I can handle it. I’ve learned from past mistakes, and I now know my limits. And I’m definitely not drunk.”
“Nola.” His voice came out as a loud whisper. “Listen to what you’re saying. It’s bad enough that you’re lying to me, but lying to yourself is dangerous. Don’t do this. Don’t undo all of your hard work.” He paused, as if reloading his gun. “Don’t disappoint your family.”
I stood, ignoring the throbbing in my ankle. “There you go again. Trying to swoop in and save me when I don’t need saving, and I certainly didn’t ask for your help. I had one drink, and you’re trying to make me out to be some horrible lush who can’t control herself. I’m stronger than that. And if you really cared enough to pay any attention, you’d know that.”
The footsteps had ceased, the temperature dropping even further. Beau’s gaze slid behind me but I didn’t turn around. He grabbed my arm and began dragging me in the direction of the front door.
I wrenched away from him. “Go ahead, Beau. Admit it. Admit that you can communicate with spirits.”
With his gaze still focused behind me his eyes widened, and for the first time I felt a tremor of fear. Even though the look in his eyes wasn’t of fright at all but of something else I couldn’t name.
Shifting his eyes back to me, he grabbed my arm again, his fingers sliding down to my wrist, where I still wore the rubber band he’d given me. I hadn’t taken it off. He snapped it against the skin on the inside of my wrist. “Use this. Every time you feel the need for a drink, snap it. To remind yourself that you’re stronger than the pull of a drink.”
I yanked my arm away from him. “I told you—I don’t need your help or anybody else’s. I had a drink—so what? I can handle it. I’m a grown woman. And don’t talk to me about lying to myself when you’re doing the exact same thing. Maybe there’s some kind of therapy group for psychics in self-denial you can join. Anything, really, that will makeyou stop looking for problems in other people and focus on fixing yourself first. And you can start with the wet footprints that follow you around everywhere—even I can see them. Why don’t you ask her what she wants? Or do you want her to wander between worlds indefinitely because you’re too stubborn to tell the world that you can talk to dead people?”
I stumbled toward the door and threw it open, managing to make it down the front steps before realizing I didn’t have my purse with my phone and couldn’t call an Uber. I looked across the street to see if Bob might still be outside with Belle, but the front yard was empty and the windows all dark.
I now stood in the middle of the street, barefoot and without a wallet. I felt Beau approach from behind. “Do you need a ride?”
Even though there wasn’t a hint of gloating in his voice, I couldn’t look at him. “No. But I need an Uber. I’ll pay you back.”
“You don’t need to—” he began.
I cut him off with a quick turn of my head.
He lifted his phone, and after a moment he said, “It will be here in three minutes. I’ll wait until it gets here.”
“There’s no need. I can handle it.”
“Clearly.”
I was too angry to look at him while he retreated to the porch to wait. He stayed there without speaking until the car arrived and I slid into the backseat. Even though I kept my face straight ahead, I felt Beau looking at me as I passed by, snapping the rubber band on my wrist until the skin had been rubbed raw.
During the entire drive uptown I fought sleep, focusing on the unnamed expression I’d seen on Beau’s face as he’d stared at something behind me inside the house. I’d made it to the intersection of St. Charles and Napoleon Avenue when I finally succumbed to sleep, my last conscious thought the realization of what it was.Recognition.
CHAPTER 24
I awoke the following morning to the kind of headache that could be described only as clashing cymbals inside my head, and there was an eerie silence throughout the apartment. It wasn’t until I’d dragged myself to the bathroom and swallowed two aspirin that I also noticed the lack of smells of coffee brewing and something baking in the oven. Even more telling was the empty dog bed and the glaring absence of Mardi’s new metal name tag jingling against his collar.
