The House on Prytania (Royal Street #2)(97)
Author: Karen White

 

Wanting to change the conversation, I said, “So, I’m assuming Beau is going to the fund-raiser with Sam? I haven’t spoken with either one of them since the night Beau and I were stranded in Abita Springs, so I have no idea what’s going on at the house on Prytania.”

 

“Yeah, they’re definitely going—Sam’s so excited about their costumes and has asked Jolene and me to make them. I know there was that little disagreement about Sam and you working together, but Beau and Sam have apparently made up, since his bed at home hasn’t been slept in since he returned from Abita Springs.” She waggled her eyebrows, making me feel a little sick. “They’re coming dressed as Saints Timothy and Maura—a young Egyptian couple who were only married for twenty-six days before being crucified facing each other and spent one third of their marriage dying together.”

 

“How romantic.”

 

“I know, right? The best part is that so many of these early AD saints’ costumes are basically just draped fabric, so Jolene and I can whip them up pretty quickly. Except I’m going as Joan of Arc, so that will be a little more complicated, since I’ll need a sword. Jolene says she saw a pair of lace-up boots in the window of one of those sex shops on Bourbon Street that I might want to get to complete my outfit.”

 

“Great idea,” I said. “Are you going solo?”

 

Her cheeks flushed. “No,” she said slowly.

 

“Anyone I know?”

 

She looked up at me with a timid smile and nodded. “Michael Hebert.”

 

“Michael Hebert,” I repeated.

 

“Yeah, Michael. I know, right? It was sort of out of the blue when he called and asked me right after his family received their invitations. It was a surprise, but a nice one, since we’d only met that once—outside Audubon Place.” Her smile was quickly absorbed by an expression of concern. “I hope you’re not mad.”

 

“Mad? Why would I be mad? It’s not like Michael and I are a couple or anything. We’re sort of trying to start over as friends, but that’s it. I honestly don’t care. I’m just . . . surprised.”

 

“Good,” she said, her sunny smile returning. “Oh, and Mimi wanted me to let you know that you’re invited, too. She’d assumed that you would know that you were welcome, but she put an invitation in the mail just in case. It comes with a plus-one, so you can invite Cooper. Beau invited Jaxson, who’s bringing Carly. It will be so much fun!”

 

“Yeah. So much fun.”

 

“I’m thinking I could get dressed here so Michael will have a reason to come pick me up like a real date, since the party’s at my house and my costume will already be here. Oh, and before I forget, did you ever find my purple hair ribbon?”

 

I’d forgotten all about it. I knew exactly where it was, but I couldn’t tell her that I’d given it to Uncle Bernie. “No—I’m sorry. I promise to keep looking.”

 

“Thanks.” She stood and hefted the mannequin—Molly—and headed toward the back of the apartment. “Jolene said to put her in that back room and she’ll make it the sewing room. You and Cooper will have to come up with a costume idea pretty soon. Just remember that Saint Timothy and Saint Maura are already taken.”

 

“Maybe I can go as Drew Brees,” I said as she walked away.

 

The doorbell rang, announcing our pizza delivery, and as I headed toward the stairs, the muffled sound of the phone ringing from the desk began. I hesitated only a moment before taking the stairs down to the door, knowing that whoever it was on the phone, I wasn’t supposed to answer it.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 35

 

 

If you’d just let me wear the football helmet, you wouldn’t have to fuss with my hair,” I said to Jolene’s reflection in the mirror as she held a Costco-sized can of Aqua Net over my teased and sprayed hair.

 

“Oh, hush your fuss. If you’d just listened to me, you could have gone as a Saints cheerleader and had a much cuter outfit.” She held a hand over my eyes as she let loose with the spray can again.

 

“Cheerleaders aren’t really considered Saints,” I said, waving the thick aerosol fog away from my face. “But Drew Brees is considered an actual saint for the 2010 Super Bowl victory, so this was obviously a better choice.”

 

She hit the spray one more time.

 

I turned my head to see her better, eyeing her white-veiled head and flowing chiffon robes, the large crucifix hanging around her neck. “I only hope that nobody is offended by your choice of costume.”

 

“People say I’m very motherly, so it makes sense. Plus, I’m single, just like Mary.”

 

“I hope your date is okay with it.” I’d done the one thing I’d always sworn I wouldn’t do and set up a friend on a blind date. Connor Black, the brother of Meghan Black, the graduate student assistant to Sophie Wallen-Arasi in Charleston, was now living in New Orleans as a project manager for a major building supply company. It had actually been Melanie who’d given me his phone number, so if it went horribly wrong, I could always blame her.

 

“Sunny, your turn!” I looked toward the closed door leading from Jolene’s bedroom to the back room that for the last two weeks had been surrendered to Molly Mannequin and so many bolts of fabric that I’d lost count. Jolene had produced a sewing machine that she evidently kept under her bed, and I’d hear the clacking of the needle way into the wee hours of the night. She was even making Mimi’s costume—Mother Teresa, of course—which explained the full-sized poster of the canonized nun in what had once been my guitar room.

 

Sunny did most of the finishing handwork on all the costumes Jolene made, something she was very good at and enjoyed, since it reminded her of all the backstage theater costume work she’d done in her previous life. I’d watched her work several times, her needle expertly diving into all kinds of materials, creating beautifully embroidered flowers on a long vest, or hand-stitched wounds in the shapes of sharp stones on ragged cloth, depending on the saint, and I’d been impressed by her economy of movement. Her expertise was impressive, considering it had never been more than her hobby. The same thing could be said about Jolene, except that she never did anything casually.

 

Something crashed to the ground on the other side of the door, quickly followed by Sunny’s calling out, “Sorry—I’ll clean it up later!” Then the door opened, and Sunny walked through it carrying a plastic sword and wearing a metallic tunic and leggings that had come from an S and M shop in the Quarter and had then been softened with fringe and embellishments by both Jolene and Sunny. The tall boots had been wrapped in foil to look like armor, disguising their origins until I saw the stiletto heels.