Page 3 of The House on Prytania
Jolene sent me a questioning look, and I held my hand up to my head like an old-fashioned telephone—something I’d seen Melanie do frequently—to let her know I’d call later.
Sam followed me out the door, then stopped on the porch as I jogged down the path toward the gate, silently hoping that the approaching car actually was my Uber.
“We need to talk,” she shouted as I clanged the gate shut behind me. “I’ll text you.”
I gave a thumbs-up as I opened the car door, pretty sure that Samdidn’t have my number. I paused to verify that I was in the correct Uber, then slid inside. I wasn’t sure if Sam wanted to talk about the footprints or Beau—or both. I wasn’t interested in discussing either topic with anyone, especially Sam, for reasons I couldn’t explain even to myself.
I shut the car door without glancing back, feeling her gaze on me long after I lost sight of the house on Prytania.
CHAPTER 2
I stood under an awning near the corner of Canal and Royal in a misty drizzle, watching my young friend Trevor riding my bike toward me. For a small fee, the twelve-year-old entrepreneur guarded my bike each night so I didn’t have to ride it all the way uptown after a long day. In the mornings I worked at my office on Poydras as an architectural historian for a civil engineering firm, then in the afternoon shifted to the renovations at my new house, leaving just enough energy to bike to the streetcar stop and hand over my bicycle to Trevor.
He had sold me the bike, the basket, and several other essential items—including a Super Soaker to deter the more aggressive flying cockroaches—for what were clearly inflated prices for used items. Trevor insisted I was paying a convenience fee for having him source the products and hand deliver them, and I couldn’t say that he was wrong.
“Hi, Miss Nola. Sorry I’m late. Meemaw forgot to make my lunch last night, so I tried to make it myself. ’Cept we didn’t have no bread, and it made me late for school. I didn’t have time to get your bike out of my hiding place before school, so I had to get it after.”
“So you didn’t have anything for lunch?”
“No, ma’am. But my best friend, Gary, always has somethin’ for me. His mama likes me and says I’m too skinny, so she packs extra.”
After digging into my back pocket and pulling out a five, I handed it to him. “Use this to buy a hot lunch the next time that happens, all right? For emergency purposes, and only for food, and get an extra dessert for Gary. Do not use it to buy anything you plan to resell, all right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, eagerly taking the bill and shoving it into his pocket. As with every interaction with Trevor, I chose to trust him. His charm and smile always overcame any second thoughts.
“I’ve got something for you from Miss Jolene.” I slid off my backpack before pulling out an oddly shaped yet beautifully wrapped gift complete with an extravagant bow.
He reached for it, but I held it back before carefully placing it on the ground. “All you have to do is peel off that small strip of tape at the top and it will unwrap itself.”
With cheeks puffed out with anticipation, Trevor carefully removed the tape. The paper fell away like a flower blooming, leaving a decoupaged clay pot at the center. I was pretty sure Jolene had both spun the pot and decorated it herself, but I hadn’t asked because I didn’t want to hate her. Trevor lifted the pot and studied it, not quite sure what to say.
“It’s for your home computer fund,” I explained. “I figured all the money you earn from working at the antiques store and from your side business can be put in here. Christopher said he’d be happy to keep it locked up at the shop to keep it safe.”
Trevor nodded to show that he’d heard me, but his eyes were fixated on the pot. “Why’s it got a rainbow?”
“Because at the end of every rainbow is a pot of gold. Jolene loves rainbows because of the song ‘Over the Rainbow’ in her favorite movie,The Wizard of Oz.”
He squinted at me with his dark brown eyes, not understanding.
“You know—Dorothy and the Tin Man, Scarecrow and Lion?”
“Huh?”
I blinked a couple of times, wondering if he might be kidding,because, to my knowledge, I’d never met anyone who wasn’t familiar with the movie or the books. I squatted down to get a better look in his face. He was small for his age, and I got down to his level only when it was for something important.
“Trevor, do you mean to say you’ve never seenThe Wizard of Ozor read the books?”
He shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
“No flying monkeys or the Wicked Witch of the West?”
He narrowed his eyes again, but this time to clearly show that he doubted my sanity.
I stood. “Well, we’re going to fix that right up. Now that you have a library card, you can check outThe Wonderful Wizard of Ozby Frank Baum. Just ask the librarian.”
“Can’t I just watch the movie?”
“Sure. But only after you read the first book—there are fourteen in the series. Everybody knows the book is always better than the movie. Besides, reading makes you smarter.”
