The House on Prytania (Royal Street #2)(68)
Author: Karen White
“Not yet,” I said. “I’m guessing that’s why Beau wanted to see me today. To be honest, I’m not really sure what he hopes I’ll discover. I mean, I doubt I’ll find Antoine Broussard’s journal lying out in the open where he admits that he killed his daughter, or even Jeanne Broussard’s diary saying she was being molested by her uncle. If they ever existed, I’m sure they’ve long since been destroyed. I don’t think there’s even a slim chance of that murder ever being solved.”
“And you know what?” Sunny said. “I’m fine with that. I’m back and Mimi is happy. I’m happy, even though I’ve just been through some of the worst months of my life. I think at some point Beau is going to have to realize that things are good right now, and there’s no need to stir the pot.”
“At this point, I think if I can just convince Beau that I’m working hard to find answers, and Mimi keeps him occupied with this ‘murder house flip’ idea, maybe he’ll lose interest. The only thing I can think of that might help is reaching out to Michael’s biological parents—wherever they are.”
“Why would you want to do that?” Sunny had raised her voice, making the three of us turn toward her. Even Sarah looked up from her phone. Sunny grimaced. “I’m sorry—didn’t mean to shout. It’s only that I just finished saying how happy and settled everyone is right now. I don’t understand why you’d want to rock the boat by contacting Michael’s parents. It seems to me they left for a good reason and have stayed away for the same reason. Can’t we just let them be?”
“I’m sorry. I am. And I do understand. But don’t you want to know if they’re connected to your kidnapping? Even if they aren’t, they might know who is. At the very least, I need to ask so that I can tell Beau I’ve exhausted that line of questioning. Then we can all move on. Do you think you can live with that?”
Sunny was silent for a long moment, making us all shift uncomfortably. Then her face transformed from distressed concern to relaxed understanding. “Yes. Of course. Don’t stress yourself. Just go to the beach house and have fun. Sam and I can help you figure out what to tell Beau later.”
“Now, that’s a plan I can live with.” I stepped back from the car. “Tell Trevor I said hello and that I’m still waiting for that fanny pack I said to be on the lookout for.”
“You do not need a fanny pack, regardless of what the Instagram influencers are saying,” Jolene said. “They are tackier than white shoes with dark stockings. You just need to carry a pocketbook like a normal person.”
I started to respond, but she was already rolling up her window. She and Sarah waved as Bubba squealed away from the curb and drove away.
Sunny linked her arm through mine to show that we were still friends. “She’s right, you know. Unless you’re ninety years old, you don’t need a fanny pack. Tell me what you need it for and maybe I can make it for you. My mom taught me how to sew, and I made most of the costumes for all the high school productions. I really wanted to be on stage, but I never quite made the cut, so I was the star of the costume department instead.” She laughed her bubbly laugh, contagious enough that I laughed, too.
We stopped on the front porch. “I’m wanting something like my backpack but smaller. Something I can wear with dresses when I’m not wearing jeans, so that I have a place for my phone and keys.”
“You mean like a purse?”
“Yeah. Sort of. But I don’t want to be fussing with where to put it, so I want something I can strap around my waist and forget about.”
“I’m actually with Jolene on this one. They do make purses called crossbodies, you know. They’re smaller and you just wear them across your body.” She was speaking slowly to me, the way elementary school teachers spoke to their charges.
“I know. But the ones I’ve seen are so . . . purselike. I wanted something soft and slouchy that would blend into whatever I was wearing. Like a fanny pack.”
She opened the front door and ushered me in. “I have an idea of something, but it’s going to be a surprise. And it won’t be a fanny pack.”
I followed her inside. As she closed the door, she said, “Is there a date with Cooper I need to know about? I work best with a deadline.”
My cheeks flushed. “He’s new in town and I’m happy to show him around. He’d like to take a look at the house on Esplanade, too, so I figured I could show him. Just to be clear, I’m not interested in a relationship right now. He’s an old friend, and I might want to wear a dress now and again, like when my jeans are being washed. Jolene has a closetful of purses, but I’d like something that’s more me.”
“Got it. I’ll get to work right away. Although, by the way Cooper kept looking at you when we were on the swamp tour, I’m not sure if he’s planning to remain long in the friend zone. And you should make up your mind soon. I don’t know how patient he is, but looking like that, I don’t think he’ll stay single for long. That man is finer than a frog’s hair split four ways.”
She’d said that with such a perfect imitation of Jolene’s voice that it made me laugh out loud. “Wow. You’re amazing.”
“Like I said before, I’m a quick study when it comes to imitating people. Probably comes from hanging around backstage for all those high school productions.” She let out her bubbly laugh again, and it kept me smiling until we’d reached the kitchen.
Beau sat at the table beneath the large picture window overlooking the vibrant garden. Just like in Charleston, flowers and foliage alike burst forth with a new palette of fall colors. I peered out the window, trying to see what was being planted now that I considered myself an amateur gardener working on her green thumb.
Melanie’s father, an avid gardener, had given me my own trowel as soon as I’d arrived in Charleston, and I had knelt next to him in the dirt, reluctantly at first, for many hours as we made holes in the earth to plant seeds and bury roots. I learned how to coax dormant plants to rise and grow, and how every living thing in the garden had a purpose and a cycle. Most of the time spent had been in silence, our bond forming through the scents of green growing things and through the unspoken connection we had to each other and to the house on Tradd Street. He’d never asked me to call him Grandpa, but when I did, it wasn’t a surprise to either of us.
A deck of cards sat on the table, along with three individual cards placed facedown.
“What are you playing?” I asked.
“Not a game, really,” Sunny said. “We’re trying to see if I have any psychic abilities, so Beau’s testing me on guessing the cards.”