Page 103 of The House on Prytania
“What’s that about?” Beau asked. He’d moved to sit next to me while we were eating, the old mattress rolling us together so that our thighs touched.
“I, um—nothing. Nothing, really.”
“Is she referring to Jeanne Broussard?”
I nodded while closing the screen on my phone. “She asked to look at the clientele book after Uncle Bernie said he and his friends couldn’t find anything.”
“Uncle Bernie had it? How did he get it and why didn’t I know anything about it?”
“Yes, well, Sam and I—”
“Sam? You and Sam?”
I’d always been a terrible liar. Either I’d begin to spout gibberish or I’d blurt out the unblemished truth. From Beau’s angry expression, I decided on the latter. He’d be upset either way, and the thing I’d learned about lies was that they always circled back around to kick you in the backside.
“Yes. She and I had breakfast to talk about things, and because we were worried about you. So we thought that maybe we could find some answers ourselves.” I looked down at my lap, unable to bear the look of anger and disbelief rotating across his face like a beacon.
“Worried about what?” His words were pinched, as if forced between clenched teeth.
“You. That you would stick your neck out a little too far and get into real trouble. We thought that if I could find out anything important before you did, we could figure out the best way to handle it....”
“You thought.” He shook his head. “So the two of you have been going behind my back?”
“No. I mean, not exactly. I told you I went with Michael to his aunt and uncle’s beach house, right?”
“Where you only got enough information to defend them. So, what’s this about the clientele book and Uncle Bernie? And where was I when this was happening?”
“We—I mean I—thought that Bernie or his police friends could help decipher what might be hidden in the clientele book, but they couldn’t find anything. And then Sarah took it home with her to see if she could give it a try. I mean, she took it without asking, but I figured what could be the harm, right?” I attempted a smile.
His expression remained stony.
I began to ramble, eager to get him interested in what we’d learned so he’d forget that he was angry. “So many people had lookedat it, but I just had a feeling that something had to be there. We all agree that there’s a reason why your father locked it up in the closet with the other evidence, right? But what evidence? So that’s what Sarah was telling me—that someone, possibly Jeanne, wrote a note in lemon juice on the last page of the book. It’s an old spy trick—I remember Dad telling us about it when researching one of his Cold War books.”
“I know what that is,” Beau said, his eyes still hard. “Go on.”
I wiped my palms on my thighs, embarrassed to find them sweating. “Sarah thinks she’s found a hidden message on the back page that starts with ‘Dear Mother.’ She’s uncovering the rest right now and will let me know.”
“And who were you going to tell, Nola? Sam? And leave me in the dark even though I have the most skin in this game?”
I wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him, but the look in his eyes made me stay at arm’s length. “Actually, Sunny does, and she’s all for reconciliation and letting things go.”
His eyes narrowed, and I desperately needed to backtrack. “Our intention wasn’t to keep you in the dark. Sam and I were just trying to protect you....”
“Just don’t,” he said, retrieving his coat from where he’d dropped it on the floor and putting it on with short, jerky movements. “I’m going out for a walk in the snow. I need time to think.”
I stood, the springs of the mattress squealing in protest. I was angry now, too. Even as a child arguing with my mother, whose versions of the truth made me more sad than upset, I found it wounding to have my words flung to the side as if they didn’t matter. As if I didn’t have the right to speak the hard truth. Even when I knew it was best to keep silent. Like now.
“You know, Beau, that if you would have just talked with Adele, all of this could have been avoided. You’re so busy cooking up revenge plots and seeing betrayal where none exists that you refuse to ask for help from the most obvious source. Your mother wants to help you. She’s been following you around for years, waiting. You justneed to ask. But you’re so damned stubborn that you can’t see over your self-imposed prison wall.”
My last words reverberated in the quiet attic as we stared at each other like two boxers in a ring. He raised his eyebrows, as if expecting an apology. But I couldn’t say I was sorry when I knew I was right.
Without another word, Beau walked calmly out the door, slamming it hard behind him.
CHAPTER 34
I woke up sometime in the darkest part of the night, disoriented and confused by the arm around my waist and the gentle breathing on my cheek. I struggled to sit up, but the arm tightened, pulling me back as unintelligible words were whispered into my ear. As my eyes adjusted, I turned slightly to see Beau on his side, pressed against the wall, his head sharing the single pillow with me.
Now that I was fully awake, my mind replayed our argument over and over. After stewing in the room for several hours before going to bed, I admitted to myself that I should have apologized for the way I spoke to Beau about his stubborn refusal to communicate with Adele. But I wouldn’t apologize for saying it when we both knew that I was right.
