Page 89 of The Shop on Royal Street
The muffled sound of the unplugged phone ringing in my closet made both of us jump, then freeze, as we stared at the closet door. It didn’t ring again, but it didn’t need to. I knew what I had to do. With steady fingers, I began to type.
Did you know your great-aunt Jeanne Broussard was the woman murdered in my house?
I stared at my phone, willing Michael’s response to arrive, or the phone to ring. He’d promised to keep his phone on and nearby in case I needed him. Maybe my question didn’t qualify. Maybe he was waiting until we could meet in person to talk about it. Maybe denial was more than just a river in Egypt.
Giving up all pretense of trying to sleep, Mardi and I went into the back room, where my guitar hung on the wall, my pitiful attempts at writing a song still on the music stand. I held the guitar in my hands for a long time, loving the familiar heft and smoothness of the wood,and longing for the calmer mind and clarity of thinking it had once given me. But the notes didn’t come, and my phone remained silent. I ended up staring out the window and watching the sky shift from purple to pink as the sun rose, and I was no closer to answering any of the questions that chased me into a new day.
•••
I opened my eyes to the smells of coffee and something baking in the oven. And a wet nose pressed against mine. Two large round eyes attached to the wet nose looked back at me. It took me a moment to get my bearings, eventually realizing that I was lying on the floor of the back room, with my head on a dog bed and a blanket tucked around both me and the dog, whose bed I was sharing. On the other side of the door, in the kitchen, Jolene hummed “Over the Rainbow” until she was interrupted by a male voice asking her a question.
I jumped up from the floor, scattering the blanket and my phone. Gathering up my phone, I threw open the door. I’d been about to say Michael’s name, but I paused as I spotted Jaxson, dressed casually in shorts and a golf shirt, standing on a stepladder by the door leading to the back staircase from the kitchen. Jolene was fully dressed, including heels, and pouring coffee into my mug.
“Good morning, Nola,” Jaxson said brightly from atop the stepladder. “Hope you were able to get some sleep after such an eventful night.”
Jolene pressed the mug into my hand. “Give her a moment to drink this before she can respond.” To me, she said, “I already fed Mardi and took him outside, so no worries. I gave him part of one of my biscuits, too, since he gave me that look of his that makes it impossible to say no.”
I nodded gratefully, took two sips, and was fortified enough to look at my phone. Nothing. Not a text or missed call. No voice mail. I opened up my texts, just to make sure I’d actually remembered to hit thesendarrow. I had. There it was—the one simple question. Sent at three fifteen a.m. With no response, and it was now almost noon.Maybe he was sleeping in because of the late night and because it was Saturday. Maybe he’d gotten ill during the night. Maybe he was on his way over now, too eager to see me in person to waste time sending a text.
“Everything okay?” Jolene asked.
I pasted on a smile and nodded. “Just waiting to hear from Michael.” I looked over at Jaxson. “Did he say anything to you last night when you left?”
“No. We said good night and we each got into our cars and drove away. Why?”
I took another sip of coffee in an effort to appear normal, the aspirin and water taken the night before having apparently done their job. “I haven’t heard from him yet. Something must have come up.” Eager to change the subject, I asked Jaxson, “It’s good to see you, but what are you doing?”
“Installing a security alarm. I’m putting one on the door at the front of the house and at the top of the stairs, too. You can turn them on and off with your phones—I’ll show you how as soon as I’m done.”
Jolene grinned. “He was at the Home Depot first thing this morning. And the locksmith has already come and gone—he replaced the front lock and rekeyed both doors. Jaxson says to consider it a housewarming present. With new locks, an alarm system, and Mardi, we’re all set.”
“Thanks, Jaxson. That’s really nice. I appreciate it.” I didn’t comment on Jolene’s mentioning Mardi as if he was meant to be a permanent member of our household. Nor did I question Jaxson’s presence, since Jolene and I hadn’t yet discussed her abrupt departure to Mississippi, which I knew was directly related to him. I had other immediate problems I needed to deal with.
I put down my empty coffee mug. “It looks like a beautiful day outside. I think I’m going to go for a run. Don’t put this away—I’ll be back shortly to have more coffee and at least two biscuits.” I quickly disappeared into my room and changed into my running clothes before shouting good-bye and jogging out the door. I didn’t want Joleneto guess the true purpose of my outing or she would have barred the door.
Instead of taking the shortcut through campus, I ran down Broadway, watching for Michael’s black Mercedes heading my way. I thought of what expression I’d wear and what I’d say when we spotted each other and I laughed at how we each must have read the other’s mind. Except I didn’t see him as I ran down the length of Broadway and the short distance down St. Charles and reached the gated entrance at Audubon Place.
The guard was the same one who’d waved me in with Jolene. After a prolonged hesitation and a promise that I was just going to run in and out, he let me in. As I jogged down the street, I had the sudden realization that despite my seeing Michael almost daily since we’d met, he’d never once invited me inside the house where he’d grown up and still lived. With increasing dread, I slowed my pace to a walk until I was once again standing in front of the Spanish Renaissance mansion with the green-tiled roof. No cars, including Michael’s Mercedes, or his bike sat in the driveway or at the curb in front of the house. The curtains on the front windows were closed, giving the house an abandoned appearance.
A man walking his poodle approached me before stopping next to me. “Can I help you?” His tone was more suspicious than friendly.
I turned to him with a wide smile. “I was on my run and decided to stop by and say hello to Michael Hebert. We’re good friends.” To show that I wasn’t an ax murderer or someone staking out a potential robbery, I bent down to scratch the poodle behind his ears. It was a risk, but I’d never met a dog that didn’t love me, and this one was no exception.
The man’s face softened. “They’re not home. Robert and Angelina decided to take a last-minute vacation to their house in the North Carolina mountains and I believe they planned to take Michael with them, because Robert asked me to collect their mail and newspaper while they were gone. They left very early this morning. You could try calling, but the cell service there is pretty much nonexistent.”
“Oh,” I said. “I guess he forgot to tell me. Do you know when they expect to return?”
“Robert didn’t say. They usually go for three months during the summer, but I’ve never known them to be gone in September. My guess is it will be just a week or so.”
I reached down to pet the poodle again in an attempt to hide the stinging in my eyes. “Well, thank you. I’m sure Michael will reach out when he gets back.” I stood quickly and waved before taking off at full speed, eager to outrun my own stupidity and gullibility, and the simple truth that no matter how far I ran, I could never escape the fact that I was just like my mother.
CHAPTER 28
I ran all the way back to the apartment, my chest throbbing, the sweat obliterating my sight, my fists clenched so tight I lost feeling in them. But nothing could erase the complete and utter disbelief and hurt that gripped me like a vise.
I immediately disappeared into the shower and stood beneath the scalding water until there was no more hot water left, then continued while the water turned cold and I had no more tears left to shed.
I turned off the faucet and stood shivering in my towel with dripping hair, wanting to never leave the bathroom. Because if I did I’d have to try to figure out what was really going on with Michael, and if everything I’d felt for him had been only manipulation on his part. The humiliation was soul crushing and spirit crumbling, and the need for a drink left me crumpled on the floor next to the door, sobbing into a towel with dry tears.
