Page 43 of The Lady on Esplanade
“Thanks.”He held up his phone.“Good news—she has the newspaper, and she’s expecting you.She’s in apartment 3B.”
I gave him a thumbs-up, then shut the door behind me and headed toward the white-painted double doors next to a brass plaque withelegant script readingAUDUBON PARC—spelled with a C, just in case anybody got confused about whether they were in the actual Audubon Park, with a K.
The doors opened into a lobby decorated à la Holiday Inn 1980, with lots of floral upholstery and with sad reproductions of well-known paintings nailed high on the walls, as if someone who was really tall and had no clue had been in charge of their placement.
A metal elevator sat in the left wall, inside a box of vinyl wallpaper border meant to make the space resemble a green arbor.I pushed the call button and stepped inside.My slow progress to the third floor gave me plenty of time to read all the neatly printed flyers affixed to the elevator’s laminate walls, advertising social events:S’mores!Secret Santa!Book Club!
I imagined living in a place like this had its advantages, especially socially.Not having to worry about lawn care, exterior paint, and a leaking roof would definitely free up a lot of time.But I doubted the low popcorn ceilings and the particleboard doors ever spoke to any of the residents.Just as I was sure that beneath the wall-to-wall carpeting there were no hardwood floors that bore the marks of past generations.And I was doubly positive that no one who lived here, current or past, ever thought that the building had chosen them.
The elevator doors slid open with abing, and I exited into a short corridor.I followed a sign to apartment B, and I knocked on the door after staring at the doorbell for a full minute and wondering if it would be rude to ring it.
The door swung open, allowing the scent of simmering food to float out of the apartment.Sam smiled, her warmth a far cry from her disposition the last time I’d seen her, at the theater—when she’d stormed away and gotten into her Uber.
“Come on in,” she said, holding open the door and looking like a J.Crew catalog model, with her slim corduroy pants, her striped oxford-cloth shirt, and a sweater knotted loosely around her shoulders.Her shiny brown hair was pulled back into an effortless messybun held together with a massive tortoiseshell clip.“Excuse me just for a minute—I need to check the grillades.They should be just about done simmering.”
“Smells delicious,” I said as I closed the door behind me and followed her inside, happy to be on a neutral footing after the previous night’s awkward parting.I stepped over a pair of Beau’s running shoes, left in the small entranceway, and I wondered if they’d been put there on purpose.
Sam stood in front of an older electric stove, lifting the lid of a Dutch oven.“I’m making Beau’s favorite, grillades and grits.It’s Mimi’s recipe, flavored with onions, celery, and green peppers—what she calls the ‘Holy Trinity’—plus plenty of garlic, since that’s what Beau likes.Not to mention a whole lot of love.”
In my chest I felt a thickness that could have been heartburn, even though I hadn’t eaten anything.Sam scooped a large spoon into the pot, then held it out to me.“Here, give it a try and let me know what you think.”She waved her hand at the steam coming off of it.“Make sure you blow on it first so you don’t burn your tongue.”
The look in her eyes made me do a quick scan of the counter for a bottle of rat poison or anything else that might contain arsenic.I started to refuse, but she pressed the spoon closer to my mouth, leaving me without a choice.If I was going to ask her for Sunny’s phone number, I had to play nice.And hopefully not die trying.
“That’s amazing,” I lied.It could have been sawdust.
“I’m glad you like it,” she said, settling the lid back on the pot, then lowering the heat on the burner.“I’d invite you to stay, but Beau and I have plans for an early supper, and then…” She shrugged, the Cheshire cat grin on her face telling me everything I would rather not know.
“No worries,” I said with forced cheerfulness.“Jolene and I are going out, too.”
She looked at me expectantly.My roommate and I usually spent Saturday nights wearing green-goop facial masks and eating takeoutwhile bingeing true-crime shows on the Investigation Discovery channel.“There’s a new bar on Magazine we want to check out.Some of Jolene’s friends from work might be there, so…”
“Sounds fun.What’s the name of it?”At my blank stare, she added, “In case Beau and I want to go sometime.”
“Oh, um, I don’t remember.Jolene’s driving, so all I have to do is get in the car.”
“Right.”She leaned against the counter, her arms crossed.“It’s nice of you to be Jolene’s wingwoman.She’s such a beautiful person, inside and out, and it’s hard to watch her throw herself at a guy who’s engaged to someone else.”
I started to say that Sam and Beau weren’t engaged yet but stopped.She wasn’t talking about me.
“I’ve seen a few of the comments on the YouTube channel where she and Jaxson share screen time, so I know it’s not just me.”
“There have been comments?”I was embarrassed to admit that I gave our channel only a cursory glance every once in a while.YouTube was a black hole, and every time I settled in to watch an episode I got sucked in, swept toward suggested channels about cute dogs and restoring old houses.Watching YouTube videos was a great way to waste time—for a person who had time to waste.Which I didn’t.
“Lots.Don’t worry—whoever is in charge of the channel deletes them as soon as they appear, but I guess a few have slipped through the cracks.Same with a bunch of anonymous ones from people claiming they know where Mardi came from.Probably just scammers looking to make a buck, which is why, I’m assuming, they’re taken down so quickly.”
“Wait—what?Someone says they know where Mardi came from?”
“Yes.I’m sorry—I thought you were the one taking them down.”
I shook my head.“No, Jolene’s in charge of all the social media for JR Properties, so I don’t have to be involved at all.I just show up when asked to pose with Thibaut and Jorge or while using donated tools or hardware.”
“Oh.Then I guess you’ll need to ask her about it.Like I said, I’m sure it’s just a scam.”She looked at me expectantly.“So, Beau said you needed a newspaper?”
“Yeah.He left one in his truck and he thinks you might have picked it up with the groceries.”
“Right,” she said.“I wish he’d told me earlier, because now there are tomato sauce cans and beer bottles on top of it.”She stepped on the pedal of a tall stainless steel garbage can and peered inside.“I can just make out a corner of it.Could you grab the rubber gloves on the sink and hand them to me?”
“I don’t mind digging for it.Let me.”
