The House on Prytania (Royal Street #2)(92)
Author: Karen White
“Just fine, thanks. I wanted to admire the house from a different angle.”
“Come on.” He reached his hands toward me, and I took them, allowing him to pull me up. “Hang on to me until we’re inside. And before you argue: I’m wearing work boots with a thick tread. You’re wearing sneakers. If you want to be stubborn, fine. But I’m going to leave you out here to crawl on your hands and knees when you fall again.”
I was pretty sure he was joking, but just in case he wasn’t, I held tightly to his arm until we’d reached the covered porch.
Stepping into the quaint lobby, I was relieved to see that part of the renovations included central heat, and I could feel the tip of my nose beginning to thaw. An attractive middle-aged woman with big blond hair and glasses attached to a chain around her neck smiled at us from the check-in desk.
I smiled back. “Good afternoon. We need two rooms for one night, please.”
“Do you have a reservation?”
I fought the impulse to turn and give Beau my “I told you so” look.
“No, we don’t. This is sort of an emergency situation because of the weather. We were supposed to drive back to New Orleans.”
“Can’t do that,” she said, shaking her head. “The Causeway’s closed and I-10 looks like a hurricane evacuation. Ain’t nobody going nowhere.” She gave a hearty smoker’s laugh, followed by a cough.
“Yes, we heard,” Beau said. “That’s why we need to stay overnight. It’s supposed to be in the sixties tomorrow, so we can drive back then.”
I began to worry when she didn’t start tapping on the computer keyboard in front of her.
“Yes, well, I’m afraid that’s going to be a problem. All of our rooms are full and have been booked for months.”
“For months? Can you recommend another hotel nearby?” I asked. “Like, within walking distance?”
“Oh, sugar, I wish I could, but there’s not an available room for, like, forty miles of Abita Springs. There’s the annual Water Festival going on this weekend, and the Boudreaux family reunion is here all week. And you know those Boudreauxs! You could line ’em up from one end of the country to the other and they’d bump into the ocean on both sides.”
“I guess we could sleep in the truck,” Beau suggested. “I think we should have enough gas to last until morning. If not, I’ve got a blanket.”
I wasn’t sure if it was because of the cold, the idea of sleeping outside in a truck, or my very bruised backside, but I began to cry. Beau made it worse by putting his arms around me and pressing my head against his jacket, which smelled of him and reminded me of being home and warm.
“Don’t cry,” the woman said, which only made me cry harder. Beau’s patting me on the back didn’t help, either.
“Look,” she said, her voice low. “I may be able to help you out.”
I sniffled and turned to look at her.
“We have a small room in the attic. It’s got a bathroom and it’s clean. It used to be a maid’s room, but now we just use it for emergencies, and I’m going to make the executive decision to call this an emergency.”
“Oh, thank you so much,” I said, my relief releasing more stupid tears.
“Don’t thank me yet. The room is tiny, and it’s got a pitched roof on account of it being in the attic, and there’s only one bed.” She looked at Beau’s six-feet-plus stature. “And it’s a twin. I’m not sure how you’ll both fit in it, but it’s yours if you want it.”
“We’ll take it,” Beau said, sliding his credit card across the desk.
We walked up the three flights of the narrow and creaking staircase—a description I had once considered charming—before sticking in the room key with a burst of optimism that lasted until the door fully opened.
“She did say it was small,” Beau said, eyeing the ceiling that would allow him to stand only in the middle of the room, and the lone twin bed covered with a handmade quilt and a single pillow shoved into a far corner against the wall.
I squeezed past him to peer into the en suite bathroom, hoping to see a bathtub that could be lined with blankets and used as a bed. A tiny shower stood in the corner, the bathroom itself barely big enough to also hold a toilet and sink.
I turned to find Beau behind me, obviously having had the same thought as me. “I could sleep in the truck,” he offered. “I’ve done it before.”
“Not in freezing cold weather. We can make this work.” I looked down at the hardwood floor that didn’t even have a rug. “We can take turns sleeping in the bed and use my backpack as a pillow on the floor.”
He didn’t look convinced. “I’ll let you get settled and freshen up while I go back downstairs and ask about a place around here for dinner. I’m starving.”
At the mention of food, my stomach began growling. “I’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes. I think I have a pair of dry socks in my backpack I need to change into, and then I’ll be right down.”
As soon as the door shut behind him, my phone binged with a text from Sarah.
Can I put lemon juice on last page of clientele book? Dad says spies do
Very old school but I say yes
Gd bc I already did and saw hidden words. Can I do whole page?
I sighed out loud. She was way too much like Melanie. What words did you see?
Dear Mother
Wow let me know the rest when u finish
Also I’m resending all pics from cemetery note shadow and orbs around names wet handprints too
The pictures were still downloading when she sent me a final text. Gotta go mom calling me to eat.
I stood staring at my phone as the photos slowly began to download, the hotel’s Wi-Fi apparently powered by hamsters on a wheel. I closed my phone, knowing that it would take much longer if I stared at each pixel, and I began to search through my backpack for anything resembling a toothbrush or toothpaste. I remembered laughing at both Melanie and Jolene as they told me that I should always have an emergency stash of toiletries and makeup with me just in case. In a pinch I figured I could use the edge of my notepaper to floss between my teeth, but that would have to be the extent of my nighttime routine.