Page 34 of The Shop on Royal Street
I pointed to a lumpy paper sack on the counter. “What’s that?”
“Arkansas Traveler tomatoes. Our neighbor back in Mississippi has a cousin, Sadie, from New Orleans who was visiting, so she gave Sadie a sack to bring to me when she returned home. And the fresh squash from her garden, which gave me the idea for the casserole. I’m putting the tomatoes in our salad as soon as I get them peeled.”
I quickly took a swallow of tea to wash down the rest of my cookie. “Peeled? You peel your tomatoes?”
“Of course,” she said, looking up at the ceiling as if I’d just admitted to being raised in a barn. “Actually, if you’d dip some more batter on this baking sheet, I can get busy with the peeling. You must be starving.”
I was, but my body was still roiling with the movement of the car, making me wonder if it was possible to get carsick after the fact.
The doorbell rang and Jolene froze mid-dip. “Are you expecting anyone?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“Me, neither. I’ll go. I know how to answer the door, so I’ll let you carry on in the kitchen.”
I had to hold on to the banister as I walked down the stairs to the door because my leg muscles were too stiff to bend. I threw open the door after peering through the peephole. “Jaxson—is everything all right at the house?”
He grinned. “It’s nice to see you, too. Yes, all’s good. Got a lot ofpics and footage. And sorry for springing an unexpected visit. I should have sent you a text to let you know I’d be stopping by.” He held up Jolene’s plate. “My mother wanted me to return the plate and thought she’d share some of her lemon bars.”
Despite having just eaten a handful of cookies, I salivated. I blamed a quarter century of deprivation, and almost half of that spent living with Melanie, for my newly discovered and ravenous sugar tooth. “Those look amazing.” I opened the door wider. “Why don’t you come in? Jolene’s just taking a casserole out of the oven and there’s plenty, if you’d like to join us.” I had a strong feeling that my roommate wouldn’t mind Jaxson’s joining us for supper. “Assuming you don’t have plans, of course.”
He hesitated on the doorstep a moment. “Actually, I don’t. Carly had a last-minute business dinner, and my parents are going to the theater. I thought I might catch up on some files and watch a game at home....”
“Don’t be ridiculous. The casserole smells delicious and Jolene’s about to peel the tomatoes for the salad.”
“Peel the tomatoes?”
I practically grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. “That’s what I said. Maybe it’s a Mississippi thing.”
By the time we’d made it upstairs, the table had been set with a tablecloth and three place settings, including linen napkins and silverware, and Jolene had changed into a floral sundress, pulled her hair up into a messy bun, and put on fresh lipstick. The only evidence that she’d been rushing was her heavy breathing as she leaned on one of the chairs.
“Jaxson—what a nice surprise. I went ahead and set a place for you, hoping you might be hungry.”
“Well, if you’re sure there’s enough...” Jaxson said.
“There’s plenty. And now we have two desserts, too.” Jolene took the lemon bars and headed to the kitchen. She paused. “Nola, why don’t you give Jaxson a tour of the apartment while I get supper on the table? It won’t take but a minute.” Without waiting for an answer, shedisappeared into her kitchen. We hadn’t lived together very long, but I was already beginning to realize that the kitchen was her domain, and I was happy to let her have it.
Turning to Jaxson, I said, “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Do you have beer? Although I’m fine with water. From our lunch the other day, I guessed that you weren’t drinking alcohol for a reason. Trust me: I’m from New Orleans. I understand.”
“I appreciate that. But we do have beer and wine—Jolene always wants to be ready for any spontaneous entertaining—and no need to drink water on my account. I’m fine. Hang on a sec and I’ll go grab a beer from the fridge. Faubourg Lager okay?”
“Perfect.”
As I slammed the refrigerator door shut, Jolene turned from where she was peeling the tomatoes, once again wearing her sitting-down shoes. “Don’t forget a glass, Nola!”
I hurried out of the kitchen, pretending I hadn’t heard her. She had monogrammed crystal bar glasses, including for pilsner, but I wasn’t about to use one. And if Jaxson asked for a glass, my opinion of him would drop a notch or two.
He stood by the teacher’s desk as I approached. “I haven’t seen one of these in years. My grandmother had an old blue one that she still used when I was little. Did it come with the apartment?”
I knew before he turned around that he meant the old princess telephone that was supposed to be in my closet. “Yeah. Along with the desk. I suppose they’ve been together for a long time, and it didn’t feel right to separate them.”
He opened his beer and took a sip without asking for a glass, and I silently cheered. “So, how about that tour?”
“Right. To be honest, there’s not much to see. I’m thinking Jolene just wanted us out of the kitchen. Maybe she heard us snickering about peeling her tomatoes and we’ve been banned.”
Jaxson choked on his beer, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, earning him another point from me. “So,” I said. “As you can see, there are old and original wood floors throughout, three bedrooms, and onebathroom right here in the middle. It hasn’t been touched since the early sixties, so it’s authentically vintage. I’ll show you the cool room in the back, which is my office slash music room. There’s a door from the kitchen, but let’s cut through Jolene’s room instead so we don’t have to bother her.”
