Page 14 of The House on Prytania
I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t think she was joking.
I didn’t release my hold on the door handle until she’d safely parked Bubba in front of the Ryans’ house on Prytania, not seeming to mind that both right-side tires were on the curb.
Jolene looked at me in the dim light from the ceiling bulb and frowned. “I told you that you should have worn one of Grandmama’s bonnets. Your hair looks like you stuck your finger in a light socket.”
“Thank you,” I said, staring back at her. “And you look like you’re auditioning for the matchmaker part inFiddler on the Roof.”
“True,” she said, unlatching her seat belt. “But when I get to the front porch and take it off, I won’t look like roadkill dragged in by the dog.”
Beau met us at the door and took our coats, his eyes lingering on my hair briefly before he showed us into the front parlor and excused himself to hang up our coats. Christopher stood by the bar while Mimi and her newfound granddaughter, Sunny, sat close together onthe settee, deep in conversation, their hands clasped together between them. They both looked up and smiled but didn’t move apart or stand.
“Thank you both for coming,” Mimi said. She indicated two velvet salmon-colored Biedermeier chairs by the white marble fireplace. “Please have a seat and let Christopher know what you’d like to drink.”
Beau returned to the room and leaned an elbow on the marble mantel. “I told Christopher that I’d be happy playing bartender, but he’s a little territorial, so I’m not going to argue.”
“I’m not territorial. I’m just better at mixing drinks than most people.” Christopher turned to Jolene with a smile. “How about a Sazerac?”
“No,” Beau and I said in unison at the same moment that Jolene said, “Yes, please.”
“It’s just that last time...” I started.
Jolene smiled sweetly, the same smile she would use right before she saidBless your heart.
Christopher grinned. “One Sazerac and one water with lemon coming right up.”
I sat next to the fireplace, for the first time noticing, perched on top, a small bust of Bacchus, the Roman god of wine and revelry. It corresponded with the Bacchus orgy irreverently painted on the dining room ceiling—a family legacy of sorts, initially meant as a taunt from one brother to the other, and now a point of pride for the Ryan family.
“So,” I said, directing my attention to Sunny, “how are you settling in?”
She looked at Mimi. “Really great. I had no idea when I started my search that I’d find an entire long-lost family who’d been looking for me all these years!”
I listened to her speak and tried to place her accent. I remembered it from the first time we’d met, when she’d shown up at my apartment looking for Beau. She was blond and petite, and when she smiled itwas clear why her family had nicknamed her Sunny. “Your accent...” I began.
“Is from all over,” Sunny said. “My dad—I mean, my adoptive dad—was in the Air Force, so I moved around a lot. He retired about ten years ago and moved back to his hometown in Minnesota. I went to high school there, so I probably sound more Midwestern than anything else.”
I nodded, although I didn’t completely agree. During my time in California I’d met lots of people from all over the country sucked in by the lure of fame and fortune on the West Coast like lint to a dryer vent—my mom included. They erased their accents faster than their savings, so that they sounded like they were from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. My gaze slid down her arm, where I’d seen a small fleur-de-lis tattoo the first time I’d met her.
She saw me looking and turned over her wrist so we could all see the pale, blue-veined skin where the small iconic symbol of New Orleans sat like a brand. “I got this as soon as I found out about my real family.” Sunny smiled at Mimi. “It’s funny, really. I’ve always felt a tugging feeling whenever I would see a fleur-de-lis. My mom said that I would be obsessed with any news story that showed Mardi Gras footage of the floats and the crowds and all the crazy costumes and beads. For my first Halloween after I was adopted, I wanted to be a Mardi Gras queen.” A small smile graced her pixie-like face. “Mom had no idea what a Mardi Gras queen costume was. She ended up getting a Disney princess dress and putting lots of feathers and sequins on it and making a matching mask. It was wonderful, even if nobody knew what I was supposed to be.”
I looked from Beau to Mimi, waiting for one of them to take the lead in the conversation, to put all the missing pieces into some sort of explanation of how Sunny had come to be back in New Orleans, but they both seemed too busy staring adoringly at her. Which, I suppose, made sense. It wasn’t exactly how I’d been greeted after being separated from my father for the first thirteen years of my life,but I guess not everybody could be so lucky as to have a family actively searching for them.
Not willing to sit in silence, especially when there were so many questions that needed answering, I said, “So...” I stopped, not sure where to start, and chose the most general question I could think of. “What’s your story?”
Sunny shrugged. “I’ve told this story so many times in the last few weeks that it’s hard to remember where to begin.” She looked at Mimi for support.
“She didn’t even know she was adopted until she was in high school,” Mimi said, patting Sunny’s leg. “Her adoptive parents thought it best. They never wanted her to feel as if she didn’t belong.”
Her words were like a small sting around the vicinity of my heart for reasons I wasn’t yet prepared to fully examine. “How did you find out?” I asked.
Her bright blue eyes were clear as they met mine. “The student council at my school was doing a blood drive, and my friends were all donating blood, so I donated, too. They were giving out coupons to a local restaurant if we brought more people, so I got my parents to donate. That’s when I found out that they’re both O positives. I’m an AB negative. We’d studied blood types in biology, so I knew that wasn’t possible.”
“That would do it,” I said. “Of course, anyone who watchesCSIwould know that, too, but whatever works.”
Beau looked at me and frowned, as if he could see the tiny chip on my shoulder. I was happy that Sunny had found her way back home. It was nothing short of a miracle, which certainly didn’t explain my mixed emotions every time I looked at her and saw her bright, sunny smile. Maybe I was comparing her situation with mine, which wasn’t fair. She’d been taken and was absent from their lives for all but the first two years of her life.
“Nobody’s mentioned your adoptive parents having been arrested, so I’m guessing they weren’t involved in your kidnapping.”
Sunny looked down at her lap while Beau and Mimi shared a glance, leaving me to shift in my seat and wonder what they weren’t telling me. “It was a private adoption,” Beau said. “But the paperwork has vanished and the adoption lawyer they used either never existed or did a great job of covering his tracks.”
