Page 117 of The House on Prytania
“And so you don’t keep losing your phone in the house,” Jolene piped up. “Much better than that Velcro contraption you rigged up to stick on your sweatshirt, if you ask me.”
I wanted to point out that I hadn’t, but the smell of something baking in the kitchen made me hold my tongue.
Beau grinned, then grimaced as he shifted his weight in the chair. “She left it in her room with a note for me to give the package to you.”
My eyes stung, not just from the thoughtfulness but also for a lost and lonely girl willing to risk everything for the role of beloved daughter she’d always wanted to play. I reached inside the pouch and was surprised when my fingers touched a piece of paper. I drew out an entire lined notebook page written in round, childish print, the top ripped as if yanked out in a hurry.
After reading through to the second paragraph, I looked up at Beau. “I think you need to hear this.” I cleared my throat and began to read:
Dear Nola,
Thanks for being a friend. I wish we’d had more time together because I think we could have become really good friends. I also want to say that I’m sorry. I know that’s a piss-poor thing to say about something so awful, but I’m an actress, not a writer. Still, you get the sentiment.
One last thing. I’ve always been a believer in psychics. And like Beau says, there are good ones and bad ones. I had a reading from a good one right after I’d decided to come to New Orleans. She knew I was going on a big trip and I’d meet lots of new people—lame, right? But she said some other stuff that she couldn’t have just guessed at, and then gave me a message for a new friend I’d meet in my new city and said that I’d figure out who it was once I met them. I think she meant you.
She said the message was from a young mother who had crossed over a while ago. Her voice was garbled, like she was talking underwater, but she wanted you to know that she’s with Bonnie and they are watching over you because your demons aren’t done chasing you.
I’m hoping that means something to you and you’ll know what to do with it.
I am sorry for everything. I wanted you to know that the short months I spent in New Orleans were the happiest of my life.
Peace out,
Sunny/Paige
I folded the note back up and tucked it inside the pouch. “Bonnie was my mother.”
“I know. It’s nice to know they’re together, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. But what about that thing about the demons? I hope she wasn’t referring to my drinking issues, because I’m over those. Maybe there are newer demons I haven’t yet met.”
“That’s one way to look at it.” His face was serious, making me nervous.
Eager to switch topics, I asked, “Do we even know where Sunny—or Paige, I guess—is now?” I’d purposefully thrown myself back into my work and house renovation, unwilling to face the entire impact of all the revelations yet.
“She disappeared—with the cat, Mambo. Mimi said she thinks the cat was Sunny’s before, and she couldn’t live without him so managed to plant him as a stray so they could be together.”
“Well, she can’t be too bad of a person, right?” Jolene said. “I mean, she gave Mardi his ass, and it’s his favorite toy. Anyone who’s attached to an animal like that can’t be all bad.”
“That might not be completely true,” I said. “Didn’t Hitler have a dog?”
Jolene blew out a puff of air. “Whatever. Still, I didn’t like what Sunny did, but I did like her. Just so y’all know, if they call me to be a character witness, I’ll stand up for her. Mardi wouldn’t lie to us, right? And he took to her right away, like a pig to mud.”
“But where did she come from?” I asked. “She had everythingright—down to the color of her hair and her sunny disposition. It’s like she’d been studying for the part her whole life.”
Beau nodded. “She probably had. During Robert Sabatier’s interrogation, he said Sunny—whose real name is Paige Mukowski, and she’s from Cleveland—answered his online ad for an actress looking for a long-term role. She was a foster kid and didn’t have any family, and she’d been involved in community theater since she was a teen, so she was the perfect choice. Nobody to wonder where she was, and someone in desperate need of a family to fit into. She even got that fleur-de-lis tattoo on her arm, which makes me think she was hoping her role would be permanent. Robert fabricated her entire backstory and paid money to the right people to back it up. Police are looking for her, and hopefully she’ll be brought back to New Orleans on fraud charges.”
“What about the real Sunny, Felicity Hebert? Mimi was so frantic about you and your injuries when we spoke, I didn’t want to add to her stress. And when I called Christopher, all he knew was that Felicity and Mimi had spoken in person, but he doesn’t know what they discussed.”
Beau nodded. “And all Mimi would tell me is that Felicity—as she still wants to be called—has gone back to New York and Michael went with her. She says she needs time to think, and I’m guessing that Michael does, too. Mimi also said that the authorities are now looking for Michael’s parents, to find out what part they played in the abduction, and if they can corroborate Robert Sabatier’s story about his wife’s innocence.”
I thought about Angelina and her kind smile, finding it very difficult to believe she had anything to do with any of it. “Angelina would have questioned the reappearance of her dead niece, right?”
Beau shrugged. “Robert said that Michael’s parents had adopted a child right after their daughter’s death, and Angelina found that acceptable. Or didn’t ask too many questions because she was desperate to believe that she was being given two children that she sorely wanted.”
“It’s a sad story all around,” I said. “Everyone loses something. And all because of one evil man. He’s gone for good, right? It’s a lot brighter here, and I no longer have PTSD when I go into the upstairs closet, but I wanted to check with you to be sure.”
“He’s gone. Promise. And hopefully my grandfather and mom, too. I’m not sure how all this works, but I still feel her presence.”
