It was Clyde.
Chapter Ten
Monday morning, Nick met Rosalie outside of Ady’s. She skipped the usual Ady’s uniform of plain white shirt and black pants, and wore a maroon sweater dress that must’ve hung loosely, because she cinched it at the waist with a belt. She paired the dress with boots and tights. Her thick curls she left free to flounce with the wind. He started smiling without realizing it. She looked beautiful.
“Excuse me, miss, but I heard you were looking to go to New Orleans today.”
She turned around and smiled hello at him. “You’re one minute late.”
“I was stuck in traffic.”
“Because St. Aster is known for its crazy traffic.”
“Can’t you tell?” he asked, gesturing to Main Street. A lone mail truck cruised by.
They broke into a quick laugh and she rolled her eyes, breezing past him. He unlocked the truck and they got in. He had spent last night thinking about today. His brain and his heart were at war. His brain reminded him how he was her boss. Their relationship needed to be professional and nothing more. His heart disagreed; it called for more time in Rosalie’s presence. It had him out of breath and sensitive to the slightest reaction from her.
Every smile. Every laugh. Every eye roll.
Nick wondered if he was imagining things. The chemistry he felt between them. Their small, playful moments that seemed to happen no matter how much he told himself he should pull back. Was he alone, or did she pick up on them too?
“How was your Sunday?” he asked as they hit the road.
Rosalie hesitated for a second. “I had a lot on my mind.”
“Anything you wanna share with the class?”
“It’s probably best if I don’t. I’m trying not to think about it,” she said cryptically. “I’ve realized that I need to stay focused on what matters. I need to get back on my feet so I can be what Remi needs.”
“You’re already what she needs. She’s your mini-me.”
“Everyone says that. But what I mean is, I need to bring stability back into her life. This past year’s been rough.”
“You just got to town. You’ll get there.”
“I’m hoping you’re right. I need some good luck after all this bad.”
“How about today we pretend like it doesn’t exist? All the stuff we don’t wanna think about or that’s bringing us down. Focus on having a good day,” he proposed. “I haven’t been to NOLA in months. It feels good to get out of St. Aster.”
Rosalie smiled brightly and nodded her agreement. “That sounds like just what I need.”
The drive into New Orleans was a straight shot on the highway. Nick and Rosalie preoccupied themselves with random chatter. Rosalie told him about the first time she visited Ady’s as a child. He told her about the disastrous first time he tried to cook a meal in the restaurant kitchen.
“You’re exaggerating,” said Rosalie.
“I wish I was. But that’s the sad part. It’s all facts.”
“You expect me to believe you singed your eyebrows?”
Nick kept his eyes on the road as he grinned. “You don’t believe me? Soon as we get to NOLA, I’m pulling over and showing you some throwback pics.”
“A fifteen-year-old Nick Fontaine without eyebrows. I’m sure that was a popular look with the girls.”
“Do you remember a kid named Iggy? Think his last name was Jameson? He double dared me to shave my head.”
“To match the brows?” Rosalie’s fingers crept over her face and muffled her gasp. “Why do I already know how this turns out? You shaved it, didn’t you?”
“For the fifty bucks he offered? That same afternoon.”
The two erupted into laughs as outside the truck windows they passed by the giant sign welcoming them to New Orleans. Nick noticed Rosalie’s face glued to the window as she observed the enchanting city from afar, and he debated on driving the long way to give her a closer view.
“Coffy’s is in the middle of nowhere,” he explained. “It’s in NOLA but not in NOLA.”
“Oh, I know. It’s backwoods,” she said with an easy laugh. “It’s just been years since I’ve been to New Orleans.”
“Before you left St. Aster?”
Rosalie nodded. “I want to say I was sixteen. Clyde drove us…”
She trailed off there, and he sensed she wanted no further discussion of the memory. They retreated into silence for the rest of the drive to the specialty grocery store, with Nick wondering if he should say anything to lessen the awkward air.
Coffy’s was located far off any main roads, surrounded by the thick brush of cypress trees. Nick hung a right off the back road and onto the gravely parking lot. In the many years since the parking lot had last been repaired, the white lines dividing the spaces had faded. Nick invented his own spot right up at the front, shifting gears into park.
At a glance, the shoebox-sized grocery store was lopsided. It leaned to the right, the wooden pillars that held it up exhausted after decades. Nick expected no less; he remembered being a kid and it looking the same exact way. Tourists might have considered the weathered building an eyesore, but everybody who mattered knew it was a NOLA staple.
Out front on its rickety porch was an out-of-service soda machine. Old sales posters peeling off the window advertised a sale on ghee that they were eight years too late for. On the doormat lounged a snoring Saint Bernard. Nick eased the door open so not to disturb him, but even his considerate effort was not enough. The Saint Bernard snorted his disgruntlement, lifting a single lid to eyeball them.
“He was a puppy last time I was here,” Nick joked in a whisper to Rosalie.
Her snicker was stifled by a low clear of her throat.
Footsteps inside, the aisles crowded over them. He could hardly move an inch without bumping into a shelf or a rack of merchandise. They started down the aisles in lockstep due to the narrow width. Along the way he pointed out the products Ady’s used for their dishes. Rosalie rose on tiptoe to see over his shoulder as if studying for an exam.
“See these?” he asked. “Best red beans you’ll ever taste.”
“Unlike the ones we’ve been using from the Save Mart.”
He paused midway down aisle four to twist around and look at her. His broad shoulders knocked into the top shelf and he fumbled to catch the glass jar that tipped over its edge. Rosalie jumped back out of the line of fire. He breathed a sigh of relief as his fingers gripped the jar before it smashed to the floor.
“Tight space in here,” he said.
“No kidding.” Rosalie looked stuck on a swallow, shaking her head in residual alarm.
“Nicholas Fontaine? Is that your big ol’ broad self I see?”
Both he and Rosalie froze on the spot. The heavily twanged voice called out to them from the back of the teeny store. Rosalie expressed her confusion by frowning, but he recognized who it was. He beckoned her to follow him down the rest of the aisle and to the back wall of built-in coolers.
Francine Coffy waited for them. Like the store itself, she was as he remembered her. Her hair was a frizzy mess stuffed into a low ponytail and her pinkish skin was speckled with sunspots that were years premature, but her kind smile stood out more than anything else. She stretched her arms open for a hug as soon as he was within reach.