Page 35 of The Lady on Esplanade
“Why don’t you come walk with us?”I suggested, ignoring her four-inch stilettos.There were enough Band-Aids and ice for both of us.
“I’d love to,” she shouted, with a little too much enthusiasm.“We’ve been sitting so long, and I would appreciate stretching my legs.”
“Let’s go,” Henry said, his hand pressing firmly on Camille’s back.“Drinking time’s a-wasting.”
Cooper gently took my elbow and then Jolene’s and started walking before the SUV’s door had shut.
“Thank you,” Jolene said.“I don’t know if I could have survived the four blocks, so thank you.I might be crippled for a month from walking in these heels, but it will be worth it.”
“Not a fan of Henry’s?”Cooper asked.
I turned so I could meet Jolene’s gaze.
“Well, he’s certainly easy on the eyes, but I don’t think both his oars are in the water—you know what I mean?”
“So I’m guessing it’s Carly you’re avoiding?”Cooper said.
I elbowed him gently in the side.“Let’s talk about more pleasant things, okay?Like your trip to London.Or even how pervasive mildew can be.Just anything else, please.”
Cooper chuckled as we continued down North Rampart, our conversation about nothing at all.
We arrived at the restaurant at the same time as the Uber, so we were all escorted into the main dining room together.I tried to ensure that Jolene was seated between Cooper and me to prevent her having to converse with either Henry or Carly.But somehow she managed to sit next to Jaxson, with me on her left and Cooper on my left.The table was round, so conversation among the entire party would still be possible, but at least this way Jolene had a better chance of enjoying her meal.
I looked around me at the august space in one of New Orleans’ premier and historic eateries—which was saying a lot, considering both adjectives could describe many of the restaurants in the Big Easy.Arnaud’s had been around since the turn of the previous century, and it had survived the Volstead Act through the sheer cunning of its owner, the Count.A massive restoration in the late seventies had ensured that the original chandeliers, iron columns, and cypress paneling remained.The old ceiling fans also stayed—and were reportedly as temperamental now as they’d been back when the restaurant was new.
Beautiful beveled glass windows had replaced a wall of pebbled glass—a change that I didn’t hate even though it meant exchanging something historic with something that, well, wasn’t.Above us, an exact replica of the original tin ceiling graced the entire main dining room.But the details I’d been most excited to see since I’d first read about the restoration, when I was an undergrad at Tulane, were the original small Italian tiles that covered the floors throughout the restaurant, with patterns and colors varying from room to room.They were almost as iconic as the restaurant itself.
“May I interest you in a cocktail?”Our server, dressed immaculately in a black tuxedo and bow tie, stood next to the table, looking at me expectantly.
“Maker’s Mark on the rocks for me,” Henry interjected.“And make it a double.”
The server smiled, then returned his attention to me, apparently adhering to the ladies-first rule.“Seltzer water with lemon, please.”
“What?”Henry asked with exaggerated surprise.“You can’t orderseltzer water.This is New Orleans!”He turned to the server.“She’ll have what I’m having.”
I shook my head.“No, I’m fine with the seltzer water.”
“The lady will have a double bourbon,” Henry said, his voice loud enough that other diners turned to stare.
“No, she won’t.”Cooper remained seated and didn’t raise his voice, but that didn’t make him any less menacing.The scar on his chin whitened against his flushed skin, the only indication that he wasn’t as calm as he otherwise appeared.Cooper turned to the server.“She’ll have the seltzer with lemon, and so will I.”
Henry started to say something but was stopped by his wife’s hand on his arm.I studied Camille for a moment, surprised that she had the ability to rein in her husband.I didn’t know a lot about marriage except what I’d seen between Jack and Melanie (a lot of which made me want to cover my eyes and block out sound), but they probably weren’t the norm—at least not according to the true-crime shows Ibinged with Jolene.The main takeaway was that it was impossible to know exactly what went on in a marriage unless you were one of the two people involved.As far as Camille and Henry went, I was happy not knowing.
Fortunately, since almost all of us had just seen the same theatrical production, there was plenty to talk about while we perused the menu.I’d already decided on the Shrimp Arnaud to start, and the Crabmeat Karen for my entrée.I wanted to go ahead and select my dessert to make sure they wouldn’t run out, but the desserts weren’t printed on the menu.
Conversation flowed, Carly talking about her wedding, and Camille discussing her excitement about working in the antiques business again and about how surprised she was that Christopher still worked at the Past Is Never Past, since he’d been there when she’d worked at the shop before Katrina.She almost seemed disappointed.
Thankfully, Henry grew quieter the more he drank, and he stopped trying to convince me to have a drink, too.Jaxson and Jolene were strangely silent, probably because Carly was happy to do all the talking.When she mentioned wedding-dress shopping I felt Jolene tense beside me.I turned to Camille and, talking over Carly, said, “I’m sorry Beau had to leave.I know he wanted the chance to talk with you about Adele, since you knew her longer than he did.”
“We don’t talk about Adele,” Henry slurred.“Right, Camille?”
Camille stared at her plate.“We don’t,” she said quietly.“It’s too painful.”
“Yup,” Henry said, followed by a loud burp.“Too painful.”
I was saved from responding by the sound of my phone buzzing in my purse.I discreetly slid it out and saw a text from Beau.Can you talk.
“Everything all right?”Cooper asked.
