Page 70 of The Shop on Royal Street
I’m not Sam.
I know.
His jaw tightened. “Duly noted. But you might want to do your research on the Sabatier Group beforehand so that you’re fully prepared. They consider older buildings as something to bulldoze and replace. I thought you might like to know.”
Cutting off my reply, Beau turned to Christopher. “I got your text and the photo. Do you have a minute to discuss it now?”
“Sure thing,” Christopher said.
Beau handed me the Saks bag full of flyers and baked treats from Jolene after retrieving the one with Christopher’s name on it. “For Jorge and Thibaut.”
“Right,” I said, taking the bag and remembering the photograph I wasn’t supposed to have seen. The black-and-white photo of Jeanne Broussard. I’d have to find another time to ask Christopher what he’d meant about “it” getting worse. It was my house, after all.
Beau opened the door, but I turned back to Christopher. “I wanted to apologize to you for that misunderstanding with Mimi about the door. I didn’t realize that it was a trickier ask than I thought it would be.”
“No worries. And no apologies necessary. You’re not to blame at all—it was just a misunderstanding. By the way, Mimi already told me that she’s given you permission to store your bike during your parents’ visit. We’ll just need to coordinate as we get closer to the date.”
“Great. Thank you.”
I could feel Beau’s impatience as he stood holding the door open, waiting for me to leave. I had nothing else that would allow me to linger or take part in the conversation about Jeanne, so I exited onto the sidewalk. It was too hot and the walk was too long, so I bent my head to my phone to open the Uber app.
“Just remember, Nola. There’s no such thing as coincidence.”
I whipped around in time to meet Beau’s steady gaze, then watched him shut the door and turn the sign toclosed.
CHAPTER 22
When I returned from work, I’d already prepared Jolene by text to let her know we’d have to postpone our girls’ night in. I’d even brought her a candy bar that I’d bought from Trevor—a new endeavor, of which my newly discovered sweet tooth heartily approved—to soften the blow.
I was barely through the door before I was greeted with soft music playing on Jolene’s Bluetooth speakers and met with a stemmed glass full of sparkling water and by a very enthusiastic and groomed Mardi. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy to see him, too, even though it was important we didn’t grow too attached since he wasn’t my dog.
I dropped my backpack at the door, and bent to be bathed in doggie kisses with much fresher breath than before his grooming appointment. Mardi looked more like an enormous guinea pig now with his fur clipped marine short, but his adorable face remained the same, albeit cleaner and trimmed, his plumed tail nearly reaching the back of his head—although it was hard to tell because it was wagging so ferociously.
“What’s all this?” I asked as I stood and took the glass from Jolene.
“I have prepared all battle stations, but we’ve got to hurry. I’vealready filled the tub with my scented bath beads. Your robe is behind the door—you can leave your dirty clothes on the floor and I won’t yell at you.” She looked at her Apple Watch and pushed a button. “You have exactly fifteen minutes to soak before you pull the plug and use the shower to wash your hair. I bought some hair products for you and they’re on the side of the tub. If you’re confused about how to use them, let me know. Same goes for the razor. I replaced your old one because I don’t think you’ve ever changed the blade. Or actually used it. I think you and Mardi could have a contest for the fuzziest legs. Anyway, it’s the pink one with the triple blades.”
“I really appreciate this, Jolene, but I only asked to borrow a dress and maybe a pair of shoes. I don’t really need—”
“Fourteen and a half,” she said, tapping on her watch’s screen and sounding more like a drill sergeant than my roommate.
“Fine.” I allowed her to hustle me into the bathroom, taking my glass and placing it on the side of the sink.
“Fourteen minutes,” she said, heading toward the door.
“So, what’s the story on the dog? Is he—”
My question was cut off by the door snapping shut.
•••
Two hours later I stood in the middle of what could be described only as a hurricane landfall. Debris in the form of shoes, clothing, underpinnings, makeup, curlers, and shapewear of types I didn’t even know existed lay scattered around Jolene’s bedroom like the innards of a burst piñata. An exhausted Mardi lay on his back, snoring loudly with his paws in the air—each nail painted a different color because he’d had the misfortune of being an available shade tester.
Jolene stood back like Michelangelo must have once done from hisDavid. “You look stunning, Nola. Truly. And I’m not even going to take credit, because all I did was bring out your natural beauty. Granted, it took some digging, but I knew it was in there. When you were growing up, did you ever have one of those large Barbie heads where you could put makeup on it and fix the hair?”
“No, I can’t say that I did.”
“Well, I actually had two, but the first one was short-lived, because I burned off the hair by accidentally using a curling iron that was too hot. It was my favorite toy and I learned a lot of my beauty skills that way. I know they still sell them at Walmart. Or I could bring mine from home if you want to practice—it’s still on my dresser and Mama knows not to touch it. Not that I need it anymore, since you’re a good substitute for that Barbie head.”
