Page 3 of The Lady on Esplanade
Jolene returned and placed aWizard of Ozmug on the table without a coaster—the eighth deadly sin, according to Jolene—the absence of tapping from her heels now glaringly obvious.“So, Jolene…”
She slid her laptop across the table toward me.“Have you been following our YouTube channel?We have twenty thousand more subscribers now than we had last month.Isn’t that great?”
Jolene had been hired by the Ryans’ historical reconstruction and renovation company, JR Properties, as its social media and marketing guru.Her current focus was the renovation of my house, which she was using to attract clients to the company while also saving me lots of money with donations of building materials and fixtures.Beau donated his time and expertise, as well as the time and expertise of handymen Thibaut and Jorge, as a marketing expense.Jaxson, an amateur photographer and a childhood friend of Beau’s, also worked pro bono on the project.
Despite feeling as if Beau had forced me yet again into the position of needing saving from myself, I had to admit that I was in an enviable situation.I was using my graduate degree in historic preservation while gaining the expertise to renovate my own house—all this while contributing to the architectural character of my new city and creating a new family and community, both necessary in my ongoing battle with my personal demons.
And now, with the popularity of the YouTube channel and other social media outlets, JR Properties was hoping to expand in a brand-new direction: murder-house flipping—meaning renovating and selling houses that would normally be unsalable because of unsavory deaths having happened under their roofs.I should have been excited that Beau had chosen me to spearhead the first project, the house on Esplanade that Cooper was interested in seeing, with an eye topurchase.And it would have been exciting—if only it didn’t mean having to see more of Beau Ryan.
There was something between us, something neither of us could or wanted to name—an invisible thread born of shared childhood-abandonment issues and of Beau’s need to be someone’s savior, which was as strong as my need to rely only on myself.And although I would admit it to no one, a physical spark manifested itself between us whenever we shared the same space.At least we were both equally committed to ignoring it: I because I didn’t need any more complications in my life; Beau because being with me opened up his psychic gift, leading restless spirits to him, even those he didn’t want—including his own mother.
“We have sponsors lining up,” Jolene continued, “and lots of promised freebies for your house just for the mentions.And Mimi says she’ll offer a beautiful antique bed and dresser of your choosing from the Past Is Never Past in return for featuring it and the store in an upcoming episode.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said.“Just no antiques for the guest room, for when Melanie or Sarah come to visit.”My twelve-year-old half sister, Sarah, had inherited Melanie’s psychic gift, and neither one would appreciate an old bed that came with previous occupants.
I took a sip from my mug and nearly choked on ice-cold coffee.I looked at Jolene to see if it might be a prank, but she was busily scrolling through the comments left under a recent video showing Thibaut and Jorge doing their wildly popular tool-juggling act on-site at the never-ending renovation of my Creole cottage in the Marigny.They had begun to include Mardi in some of the videos, which I was convinced was the reason for the sudden upswing in followers.
“Mardi is getting so much love from our viewers,” she said.“I think he needs his own account on Instagram, to increase our exposure.He might even become a home-remodeling influencer!Sort of like the Kardashians, but less tacky and with more tools.”
I blinked, still hoping I was being punked.When she didn’t say anything, I said, “But we already have an Instagram account.”
“You mean JR Properties has an account.I’m talking about Mardi having his very own account.And, by the way, they’re now calling it ‘the ’Gram,’ so make sure you get it right when you’re creating reels or captions.We don’t want to lose our younger audience.”
I stared at her for a moment, beginning to feel very concerned.“Um, right.Just one thing, though.Mardi’s a dog—remember?He can’t type.”
She looked at me as if I’d just set my hair on fire.“Of course he can’t type.He doesn’t have opposable thumbs.”
Before I could say anything else, acrid smoke began billowing from the kitchen.“Do you need to check the muffins?”I asked.
Jolene regarded me briefly before wrinkling her nose.“I think something’s burning.Let me go check the oven.”
When she returned, it was with a plate filled with decapitated muffins.“Someone forgot to remove the plastic wrap before putting them in the oven, so it melted all over the tops.Luckily, I was able to salvage the bottom halves.”She plopped next to the plate a carton of spreadable butter straight from the fridge, a steak knife protruding from the middle of it.For as long as I’d known Jolene, she had never once put on the dining table anything that wasn’t on a serving dish.Including butter.And she definitely had never served butter with a steak knife.
“Who are you and what have you done with Jolene?”I’d intended it as a joke, but its meaning flew straight over her head.
“I’m right here, Nola.Maybe you need to see your eye doctor.”She returned to her seat and began to flip through the pages scattered in front of her.“Do you think Mimi Ryan would let us use her house on Prytania for the party?I’d make the food, of course, but we don’t have the room here, and going to a restaurant seems so impersonal, although the Court of Two Sisters does have that large courtyard that’s perfect for entertaining.”She frowned.“Then again, if it rainswe’ll be forced to go inside, which would defeat the purpose of choosing a unique space.”She reached across the table to a hand-drawn list and used her pencil to draw a line through one of the items.
“Or why don’t we ask the Sabatiers if we could use their beach house in Ocean Springs?”
Jolene frowned, the perfect skin on her forehead creasing.“Have you lost your cotton-pickin’ mind?After what they did to the Ryans?Let me check your temperature, because either you have a terrible fever or you’ve truly lost your mind.”
“I’m joking.Obviously.Besides, Robert Sabatier is in jail, facing kidnapping charges for taking Sunny, and I heard that his wife, Angelina, has temporarily moved to New York to be with Michael and Sunny—although Sunny still wants to be called Felicity.Mimi said that she and Sunny are FaceTiming once a week to connect, so that’s something.”
“Poor Mimi,” Jolene said.“All of those years looking for her granddaughter, and when she finally finds her, it seems she didn’t want to be found.”
“Probably because she never considered herself lost.”
Jolene’s eyes met mine across the table.She nodded solemnly, giving me the impression that she was back to normal and at any moment she would notice that she hadn’t set the table properly.Or put on shoes.“So”—I pushed away my cold coffee and the tub of butter and indicated the cluttered table—“what are you doing?”
“I’m planning an engagement party, silly.”She smiled brightly, as if I were the confused person.
“Exactly.For Jaxson.And Carly.”
“I know.”Her smile didn’t fade, and her expression reminded me of that worn by the actresses inThe Stepford Wives.
During my first tumultuous months back in New Orleans, Jolene had stuck by me as I navigated my new life, as well as an alcohol-addiction relapse and a heartbreak.She’d been the kind of friend who offered love and support even when they weren’t deserved—the kindof friend she needed right now.“Jolene,” I said softly, “you know I love you like a sister, right?So I want you to hear me when I say that I think you need some time off.Jaxson’s engagement must have been a bit of a shock.”
“Why would you say that?”
