Page 107 of The House on Prytania
“Yeah. So much fun.”
“I’m thinking I could get dressed here so Michael will have a reason to come pick me up like a real date, since the party’s at my house and my costume will already be here. Oh, and before I forget, did you ever find my purple hair ribbon?”
I’d forgotten all about it. I knew exactly where it was, but I couldn’t tell her that I’d given it to Uncle Bernie. “No—I’m sorry. I promise to keep looking.”
“Thanks.” She stood and hefted the mannequin—Molly—and headed toward the back of the apartment. “Jolene said to put her in that back room and she’ll make it the sewing room. You and Cooper will have to come up with a costume idea pretty soon. Just remember that Saint Timothy and Saint Maura are already taken.”
“Maybe I can go as Drew Brees,” I said as she walked away.
The doorbell rang, announcing our pizza delivery, and as I headed toward the stairs, the muffled sound of the phone ringing from the desk began. I hesitated only a moment before taking the stairs down to the door, knowing that whoever it was on the phone, I wasn’t supposed to answer it.
CHAPTER 35
If you’d just let me wear the football helmet, you wouldn’t have to fuss with my hair,” I said to Jolene’s reflection in the mirror as she held a Costco-sized can of Aqua Net over my teased and sprayed hair.
“Oh, hush your fuss. If you’d just listened to me, you could have gone as a Saints cheerleader and had a much cuter outfit.” She held a hand over my eyes as she let loose with the spray can again.
“Cheerleaders aren’t really considered Saints,” I said, waving the thick aerosol fog away from my face. “But Drew Brees is considered an actual saint for the 2010 Super Bowl victory, so this was obviously a better choice.”
She hit the spray one more time.
I turned my head to see her better, eyeing her white-veiled head and flowing chiffon robes, the large crucifix hanging around her neck. “I only hope that nobody is offended by your choice of costume.”
“People say I’m very motherly, so it makes sense. Plus, I’m single, just like Mary.”
“I hope your date is okay with it.” I’d done the one thing I’d always sworn I wouldn’t do and set up a friend on a blind date. ConnorBlack, the brother of Meghan Black, the graduate student assistant to Sophie Wallen-Arasi in Charleston, was now living in New Orleans as a project manager for a major building supply company. It had actually been Melanie who’d given me his phone number, so if it went horribly wrong, I could always blame her.
“Sunny, your turn!” I looked toward the closed door leading from Jolene’s bedroom to the back room that for the last two weeks had been surrendered to Molly Mannequin and so many bolts of fabric that I’d lost count. Jolene had produced a sewing machine that she evidently kept under her bed, and I’d hear the clacking of the needle way into the wee hours of the night. She was even making Mimi’s costume—Mother Teresa, of course—which explained the full-sized poster of the canonized nun in what had once been my guitar room.
Sunny did most of the finishing handwork on all the costumes Jolene made, something she was very good at and enjoyed, since it reminded her of all the backstage theater costume work she’d done in her previous life. I’d watched her work several times, her needle expertly diving into all kinds of materials, creating beautifully embroidered flowers on a long vest, or hand-stitched wounds in the shapes of sharp stones on ragged cloth, depending on the saint, and I’d been impressed by her economy of movement. Her expertise was impressive, considering it had never been more than her hobby. The same thing could be said about Jolene, except that she never did anything casually.
Something crashed to the ground on the other side of the door, quickly followed by Sunny’s calling out, “Sorry—I’ll clean it up later!” Then the door opened, and Sunny walked through it carrying a plastic sword and wearing a metallic tunic and leggings that had come from an S and M shop in the Quarter and had then been softened with fringe and embellishments by both Jolene and Sunny. The tall boots had been wrapped in foil to look like armor, disguising their origins until I saw the stiletto heels.
“Looks great.” I walked around her, admiring the stitched flames on the bottom of the tunic recalling Joan’s sad end on a fiery stake.
“Thanks—but not as great as Cooper will look in those tight football pants,” she said, winking at me.
“Sadly, he’s going as Sean Payton.”
Sunny stared blankly at me.
“Y’all are pathetic,” Jolene said. “I had to explain to Nola, too. Sean Payton was the Saints’ coach in 2010 when they beat the Indianapolis Colts in the Super Bowl. I personally don’t think anyone should be allowed to even live in New Orleans without knowing that important fact. It’s as important around here as knowing that Christmas is December twenty-fifth. Or when hunting season starts.”
I let that sink in before I turned to Sunny. “Trust me, I wouldn’t mind seeing Cooper in those pants, either, but he didn’t have a lot of time to come up with a costume, and all he needed was a black sweatshirt and visor with the Saints logo and a headset to dress as Coach Payton. Done and done.”
Sunny replaced me at Jolene’s vanity. “You know,” I said, “I don’t think Joan of Arc wore makeup when she was leading her troops against the English.”
“How would you know?” Jolene asked. “You weren’t there, so I say it’s open to interpretation.”
Sunny’s laughter burbled out of her like shiny bubbles, a sound I’d come to love and would try to coax from her whenever we were together. I even found myself anticipating working with her once Beau gave us the go-ahead on the Esplanade house.
“Are you nervous about meeting the Sabatiers for the first time tonight?” I asked Sunny.
“A little. I’d hoped to have met them before tonight, but Beau wouldn’t let me until Christopher had a chance to make sure everything Angelina told you was fact. Which makes tonight even more special, since we can officially let go of the past.” She beamed at us in the mirror over the vanity.
Jolene began pinning back Sunny’s hair before starting the makeup process. Sunny closed her eyes as Jolene began smearing somethingshe called primer on Sunny’s face. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out. I’ll go sit on the couch so we don’t miss the doorbell.”
“Hang on,” Jolene said. She grabbed a tube of lipstick off the dressing table and tossed it at me. “Don’t forget your color.”
