Page 47 of The Lady on Esplanade
I responded quickly.Let’s go see it again together and talk.When will you get back?
I’m taking earlier flight.I miss you.Call you when I land.
A pleasant warmth replaced my earlier apprehension.Miss you, too.Before hitting Send, I paused, then added a kissing-face emoji.
I sat back and stared out the window, the glow from Cooper’s text fading as we drew closer to the house on Prytania, then disappearing as the driver pulled up to the gate, an hourglass displayed prominently in the middle.I thanked the driver and got out, then waited at the gate as the car pulled away.I looked up at the beautiful house, trying to absorb the fortitude that had kept it intact through both external and internal storms for over a century.I think that was why I loved old houses, because of all the lessons in survival they offered if we were astute enough to listen.
Then I pushed through the gate and headed up the walkway.
CHAPTER 14
I expected to see Mimi or Christopher when the door opened, but instead I found myself looking into Trevor’s annoyed face.“Yes?What do you want?”
I stared at him, wondering if he didn’t recognize me, or if the polite boy I’d once known as Trevor had become a zombie.
“Trevor!Don’t…” Christopher stopped behind Trevor as he recognized me.“Thank goodness it’s you.Although this young man still needs to apologize.I know I’ve taught him better than that.”He folded his arms across his chest and waited for Trevor to speak.
“Sorry,” Trevor mumbled.
“Excuse me?”Christopher prompted.
“Sorry, sir!”he said, more loudly now, then abandoned his post and stomped across the foyer in the direction of the kitchen.
I stepped inside and Christopher closed the door behind me.“Is everything all right?I don’t think I’ve ever seen Trevor in a bad mood before.”
Christopher leaned forward to peer into the parlor, then pulled me aside to speak quietly.“Henry and Camille have moved in while theysearch for an apartment, and Henry’s managed to crawl onto everyone’s last nerve—even Trevor’s.Mimi invited Trevor over for supper, so I drove him after his shift at the store.Henry was getting in the way in the kitchen, so I suggested we play cards with Trevor, to keep them both occupied until it was time to eat.”He shook his head.“It’s pretty bad when I’m playing cards and someone cheats, and Henry was blatantly cheating—against a twelve-year-old boy!Playing Go Fish!I mean, who does that?”
I looked past Christopher and into the parlor, where a small television set had been placed next to a PlayStation on a Georgian bookshelf with cords snaking out from behind it to where Henry sat, cross-legged, on top of the antique coffee table.His hands furiously moved the buttons on a white plastic game controller while he shouted at the TV screen.I didn’t know how old Henry was, but he was definitely too old for that kind of behavior.
“Did you suggest that they play video games together?”
Christopher frowned.“I did.But Henry wouldn’t let Trevor have a turn.”
I paused for a moment to let that sink in.“Well, then, I don’t blame Trevor for being ticked off.I would be, too.Where’s Camille?”
“In the kitchen, helping Mimi.Are you here for supper?Mimi didn’t mention that you’d be coming.”
I pressed the sloppily refolded newspaper against my chest.“She isn’t expecting me.I just need to talk with her, but I don’t want to interrupt.It’s, um, kind of important, but it should wait until after she eats.”I studied Christopher for a moment.“Actually, I have an idea.Maybe if I show you first, you can tell me if it’s important or not.Do you have a minute?”
He lifted his eyebrows.“Sure.”He peered into the parlor, where Henry was oblivious to the world outside the primary-colored one on the screen, in which cartoonish characters shot at each other with random objects.“Follow me.”
I passed the parlor without Henry even looking up, then walkeddown the back hallway to where Mimi’s late husband’s library remained in preserved pristine condition.I stood in front of the dark mahogany Edwardian-period partners desk.Scratches and faded patches on its leather top were a testament to the work that had happened on the desk in the century since it had been crafted.Like true antique dealers, the Ryans and my own family believed that antiques, if not too fragile, were meant to be used and enjoyed—with respect.Antiques weren’t antiques simply because they were old but because they’d played a part in the lives of the people who’d once owned them.Only true aficionados knew the difference.Or those, like Melanie and Beau, who hated antiques for the same reason.
Christopher moved aside a brass lamp and a marble bust of Winston Churchill to give me space on the desktop.I folded the newspaper on the crease so that the page in question faced up, and then I pointed to the picture.“Do you think Mimi knows about this yet?”
He slid a pair of readers from his jacket pocket and placed them on his nose before leaning over the desk, bracing himself with his hands on the edge while he read.And then, just as mine had been, his attention was brought up to the top-right corner and the picture of the two rings, and his elbows gave way.
He managed to catch himself and sit down heavily in a nearby chair, taking the page with him.
“Are they Adele’s?”
Christopher nodded.“I’d recognize them anywhere.They’re one of a kind.Mimi’s father-in-law had them made for his bride, and then, after Mimi was married, she wore the rings until Buddy proposed to Adele.They didn’t fit Mimi anymore, so she’d stopped wearing them, and instead of resizing them, she thought it would be best if Adele wore them.They fit her perfectly.”His voice cracked on the last word.
“Is there a photograph of the rings?”I asked.“Or some insurance documentation for proof?The authorities will want all of that.”
Christopher nodded as he stood, placing the newspaper page backon the desk.“There’s this, although it doesn’t show a close-up of either ring.”He’d moved behind the desk, to a matching credenza where a double five-by-seven-inch hinged frame had been placed next to a bronzed baby shoe.Both photographs in the frames showed a bride and groom in full wedding regalia, one in sepia and the other a color picture from the late 1980s.Christopher reached across the desk to hand the frame to me while he knelt in front of the desk, slid open its middle drawer, and stuck his hand inside.After a pause, I heard a click and then watched as Christopher pulled open a file drawer inside a leg of the desk.He began riffling through files while I examined the photographs.
I was startled by how much Beau resembled his great-grandfather, and not just in stature.He definitely had the same jaw and defined cheekbones.The smile the man in the photo wore was the same smile I’d seen on Beau’s face dozens of times.I took a breath, then moved to the photo of Adele and Buddy.My heart burned—actuallyburned, as if it were on fire.It wasn’t so much the image of the groom that absorbed my focus, although the familial resemblance between Buddy and Beau was unmistakable, too.It was of the glowing bride.Adele.The woman whose ghost I’d been chasing.
