Sarah and I were silent on the short walk to Muriel’s, only half listening to Jolene talk about her various theories about the footprints. If they were Adele’s—and that was one assumption we all agreed on—maybe she was just letting us know that if we didn’t hurry we’d be late for lunch. Or maybe that we were running out of time to stay one step ahead of Beau, because Jaxson had let us know that Beau had started calling Uncle Bernie for help. Or maybe Adele had been a runner when she’d been alive, which meant that she probably still enjoyed exercising in the afterlife.
This last made Sarah and me look at each other, but we were spared the need to comment because Jolene had already started on another tangent about one of her grandmother’s clients, who’d placed a Matchbox car replica of his beloved 1969 cherry red Mustang in his coffin as a compromise instead of actually burying him inside the vehicle. The man’s daughter had kept the car, but she never drove it because she said it was haunted by her dad and could prove it with pictures of the shadowy figure that she swore was her dad sitting behind the wheel, and with a radio that never played anything except an oldies station.
This last part I listened to, curious as to where the Mustang was now, the seed of an idea sitting uneasily in my head.
By the time we reached the restaurant, Jolene had announced that she’d talked all her lipstick off and we had to pull to the side of the sidewalk so she could reapply. Then she reached into her large purse and pulled out a pair of heels and changed into them so quickly that it was clear she’d done it many times before.
“Y’all ready?” she said, implying that we probably weren’t but she would be happy to wait. “I’ve got six different shades of lipstick in my purse.” She looked at us like a waiter tempting diners with a dessert menu.
“I’d like to—” Sarah began.
“We’re good,” I said, giving Sarah the same look I knew Dad would if he saw her wearing lipstick in one of Jolene’s bright shades.
“I’m almost thirteen,” she protested.
“You will always be a little girl to our parents. I’ll let you work that out with them and leave me out of it.”
Sarah let out an exaggerated sigh, then followed us into the restaurant.
I immediately loved the ambience of the fully renovated grand mansion, with its dark red walls, tall windows, and equally tall French doors, and its eclectic collection of hanging plates and wall art.
The snap snap from behind me told me that Sarah didn’t find the atmosphere as relaxing as I did. She caught me watching her and said, “I’m fine. I did some Googling on the history of the building, so I’m prepared.”
We were greeted by a hostess who led us to our table by a window in the main dining room, where Uncle Bernie and Jaxson were already waiting. Jaxson stood while Bernie struggled with his cane, and I rushed over and placed a hand on his shoulder while Jolene gave him a kiss on his cheek and told him to remain seated.
He grinned up at us. “If I’d known that all I needed was to grow old and crippled to get all this female attention, I would have done it long ago.”
We laughed as Jaxson held out our chairs for us to sit and the hostess gave us our menus. “I hope this is okay,” Jaxson said, indicating the dining room. “They have a much cozier indoor courtyard bar and the séance room, but—”
“But that would be a hard no from both of us,” I said, indicating Sarah.
We chatted and looked at our menus, all of us ordering water except for Uncle Bernie, who asked for a bourbon on the rocks. “Another perk of growing old,” he said. “I can pretend that I’m too deaf to hear people telling me I shouldn’t drink bourbon at lunch.”
“Maybe when I’m ninety I’ll be allowed to wear lipstick,” Sarah muttered.
“Assuming Dad doesn’t come back to tell you that you shouldn’t.”
She looked at me over her menu. “That’s not funny.”
Our waitress came to take our order, and Jolene ordered the salad. Uncle Bernie leaned across the table and whispered loudly enough to be heard across the room, “Don’t worry. I’m paying. You can get whatever you want.” He winked at me, bringing to mind the last time we’d eaten together, when I’d been thinking I’d have to wash dishes to cover the bill. He’d unexpectedly and generously paid, saying my company was enough payment.
Jolene smiled at him. “Thank you, Bernie, but I’m fine with a salad. We’re headed to Café du Monde for some beignets when we’re done, so I have to save up my calories.”
“I don’t know why,” Jaxson said, cutting into a bread roll. “You look pretty perfect the way you are.”
I imagined I could hear the fireworks going off inside Jolene’s head even though she just smiled and murmured her thanks.
“I’ll have the shrimp and goat cheese crepes. And a cup of the gumbo to start.” I studied the waitress closely. Before the bill was presented I was prepared to waylay her.
“Who are you and what have you done with my sister?” Sarah said, feigning shock.
“They didn’t have cardboard on the menu, so I had to order something else.”
Bernie chuckled. “I need to make a point to hang around younger folks more often. I feel like I’ve been bathed in the fountain of youth.”
Jaxson excused himself to take a call. I spotted a battered black leather briefcase that sat on the floor behind Jaxson’s vacated chair. Bernie saw me looking at it and patted my hand on the table. “Don’t worry. We’ll get to it. As my beautiful bride always reminds me, business can wait.”
“I was hoping she’d come with you today, since we missed meeting her last time.”
He took a sip of his bourbon and nodded. “She would have loved to meet y’all, too, but she hates to go out. Always insists she can make a better meal for half the price.” He leaned forward and in a conspiratorial whisper said, “She’s probably right, but there’s something to be said for food being brought to the table for you and someone else being responsible for the cleanup.”
“Unless you live with someone who prefers to do all of it even though your offers to help are sincere.” I eyed Jolene.
“If I thought you knew how to boil an egg or the difference between sterling and stainless, I’d be happier than a tick on a fat dog. We all have our talents, and that’s just not yours, bless your heart.” She winked to take the sting out of her last words.