Page 9 of The House on Prytania
I tried to turn to face her, but she kept such a firm grip on my braid that I was afraid of scalping myself if I moved. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”
“You shouldn’t apologize for pointing out the truth. I deserved that. And I’d much rather hear it from a friend than anyone else.”
Jolene relaxed her hold on my hair, and I breathed a sigh of relief that my eyes had stopped watering. When she was done, she grabbed my shoulders and spun me around. “Much better, but there’s still something missing.” She regarded me critically. “Where are your pearls?”
“Seriously? I’m wearing jeans and a sweater. I don’t think...”
“Perfect,” she said, unclasping her own set from around her neck before settling it on mine. “All you need now is a bit of color....” Jolene reached into her pocket to pull out her ever-present tube of lipstick.
At that, I stepped away from her, grabbing the worn and grubby backpack that had seen me through a lot of things. “I have to go. I’ll see you later.”
“Hang on—I have something for you!”
I hoped it wasn’t another big Barbie head. Or another monogrammed anything. My room and closet already looked as if a monogram machine had run amok, spewing my initials like beads from a Mardi Gras float. Jolene ran to the kitchen and emerged with a giftbag exploding with metallic tissue paper and extravagantly tied bows. I knew better than to ask if she’d done them herself.
Jolene handed it to me with a bright smile, keeping her hand on the bottom. “Careful—it might spill. I wanted to make sure it was good and hot before I gave it to you.”
Curious now, I moved the bow-festooned handles aside and parted the paper to reveal the top of a travel coffee cup. I carefully pulled it out, then read what had been printed on the front and smiled.
Californian by birth, Southern by choice.
“I thought when you learned to drive, you’d want something to put in the cup holder of your car. But for now, you can take it on the streetcar on your way to work.” Beaming, she added, “And I already spoke to Trevor about finding a cup holder to attach to the handlebar on your bike. He said he didn’t think it would be safe, but I assured him you wouldn’t take a sip unless you were at a full stop. And that you’re more dangerous to society if you’re caffeine deprived.”
I grinned. “This is perfect—and so thoughtful. Thank you.”
“I was going to get one that said ‘Bless Your Heart,’ but I figured you wouldn’t want people to think you were cussing them out.”
“Good choice. Thank you—really. For the hot coffee, too.” I hugged her, careful not to tilt my new cup. “Why are you so nice to me?”
“Because you’re my friend. And because you deserve it. Probably more than most people.”
I pulled back, unable to speak past the frog in my throat. She followed me through the French door at the top of the stairs, tugging on my backpack briefly. “I’m just sticking in a tube of my favorite lipstick in case you change your mind.” Leaning over the banister to watch me descend past the landing, she called after me, “Don’t forget to be polite.”
I paused on the bottom step to look up at her. “Of course I’ll be polite. Why wouldn’t I?”
Her eyebrows rose, but I didn’t stick around long enough to hear anything else.
•••
I stood outside the small bungalow that housed Horn’s Eatery on the corner of Dauphine and Touro, not far from my cottage in the Marigny. Despite the cooler air of fall, the sidewalk was full of diners with their dogs sitting outside and enjoying coffee and breakfast.
A sign over the glass double doors readthe garden of eatin’, and a chalkboard stand in the middle of the sidewalk readWisdom says that if you’re hungry, you should eat. Although the thought of having a private conversation with Sam had stolen my appetite, the delicious smells of the food on diners’ plates made my stomach grumble. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped inside.
As usual, my historic-house-loving self noticed the architectural elements first. An original dark wood-planked ceiling covered a large single room containing booths along the sides with small tables placed in the middle. A full bar dominated one end of the room. Out of habit, I diverted my attention away from the glass bottles lined up on the shelves, focusing instead on the diners.
I spotted Sam immediately, sitting in a booth next to the window. Her head was bent toward her phone, so she didn’t see me, giving me the chance to take in her coordinated jacket-and-sweater outfit, her smooth dark hair falling in gentle waves around her face. She looked like she’d just stepped out of a J.Crew catalog. Self-consciously, I looked down at my worn jeans and the oversized, holey sweater that I’d had since high school. I stopped a server walking past me. “Excuse me—where’s the ladies’ room?”
Checking quickly to make sure that Sam hadn’t spotted me yet, I ducked into the bathroom and headed straight for the mirror. I pulled out the tube of lipstick Jolene had given me, a muted pink with “blue tones,” which, according to Jolene, flattered my coloring. She kept threatening to bring me home with her on her next trip to Mississippiso her aunt Janie could do my colors. I had no idea what that meant, but I wondered if it would hurt.
After carefully applying the lipstick just like Jolene had shown me, and then using a square of paper towel to blot my lips, I could only hope that I didn’t resemble a circus clown. I stepped back from the mirror, reluctantly appreciating what Jolene had done to my hair. And the pearls. Although I couldn’t help comparing the pearls with my outfit to the floral basket on my bike. Whatever. With a deep breath, I pulled my shoulders back and faked confidence as I strode to Sam’s table.
Sam smiled warmly as I slid across from her in the booth. “Hi, Nola. It’s so good to see you.” She shifted her gaze briefly and gave a nod to someone out of my line of vision. Before I could say anything, a server placed a steaming-hot cup of coffee in front of me. “I’ve heard that it’s best to keep you caffeinated.”
I laughed, immediately put at ease. “I drank an entire travel mug full of coffee on my way here, and I was just now feeling the need for another infusion.”
Holding up her own cup of coffee, she said, “This is my third and I’m definitely not done yet.” As she sipped from her cup, I noticed her unpolished and seriously gnawed fingernails. It was somehow reassuring to know that she wasn’t perfect.
Sam handed a menu to me. “Are you hungry? I’m afraid that there’s not a lot of healthy options....”
