Pardon My Frenchie

15

As she studied the number Ridley had texted, Ashanti’s heartbeat went from normal to climax scene in a Friday the 13th movie, but she refused to let that have any effect on her decision-making. She could not allow anxiety or fear to get in the way of this opportunity.

This was a test of faith. She’d told herself that Thad swooping in and buying the house meant that there was something bigger and better on the horizon for her. Well, bigger and better had just dropped into her lap.

She had been willing to settle for the place in the Bywater, but there was not a single property in New Orleans better suited for what she envisioned for Barkingham Palace than that beautiful two-story house in the Lower Garden District. The bed-and-breakfast/café that occupied it for years had closed during the thick of the pandemic and had remained empty all this time. Even as she set her sights on the house in the Bywater, Ashanti had prayed this one would become available.

Her prayers had been answered. So why was she waiting to call?

“Because you know it will be outside of your price range,” she said with a sigh.

The Lower Garden District was one of the city’s most expensive neighborhoods. When Ridley was house-hunting for a new condo, there was not a two-bedroom for under a half million. And that was for only one condo. Ashanti’s stomach turned at the thought of what an entire building would cost, especially one in such a prime location.

The house was also more than twice the size of Barkingham Palace’s current location, with a huge fenced-in backyard. There would be ample room for the bakery, a kitchen, and a bigger daycare.

She called the number.

A woman answered on the first ring. Ashanti didn’t even have to tell her which property she was interested in; the real estate agent said they had been getting calls all day about the place on Terpsichore. She went through the basics: size, number of rooms—all things Ashanti had already learned through her numerous searches on various real estate sites.

“What is the asking price?” Ashanti asked.

“One point six million,” the woman answered. “But I have a feeling this one will go over the asking price. In fact, we’ve already had an offer for more than what they’re asking for it.”

Ashanti massaged her forehead. “I’m not surprised,” she murmured.

“We start taking official bids on Monday,” the real estate agent said.

Ashanti thanked her for her time and tried not to feel defeated as she disconnected the call.

Back when she was a little girl, whenever she asked for something, her mother would ask if she thought money grew on trees. She’d vowed to one day find a money-growing tree to prove that they existed.

Ashanti looked up at the ceiling. “I need to find one of those trees, Mama.”

Even with the boost the daycare had received from that viral livestream, there was no way she could afford that house, especially when she was looking at another three- to four-hundred thousand to renovate and outfit it for boarding and a bakery.

She needed to hug her dog.

Ashanti pushed back from the desk and nearly had a heart attack as Ridley came bursting through the door.

“Did you call?” she asked.

“What the heck, Rid?” Ashanti yelled, splaying her hand to her chest. “What are you doing here? I thought you had a meeting?”

“I canceled it,” she said. “This is more important.”

“Yes, I called.”

“And?”

“And.” Ashanti braced herself for Ridley’s inevitable reaction. “I can’t afford it.”

In a stunning turn of events, her melodramatic friend did not go into an immediate meltdown. Ridley quietly rounded the chair that faced Ashanti’s desk and sat. Hanging her arms on either side of the chair, she manspreaded as wide as her pencil skirt would allow and began to sink to the floor.

Ah, there were the theatrics.

“Get up,” Ashanti said, walking over to the chair. She hooked her arm in the crook of Ridley’s elbow and lifted her.

“No. Just let me go. You insist on killing me, so just let me go.”

“They’re asking for a million, six hundred thousand, Rid.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all?” Ashanti laughed.

“That house can easily go for two million.”

“And you think I can afford to pay that kind of money?”

Ridley stood. She took the bottle of conditioning shampoo out of Ashanti’s hands and tossed it on the desk. “I am not allowing you to do this, Shanti,” Ridley said.

“Do what?”

“Give up!” Ridley jabbed a finger at Ashanti’s Meghan and Harry pencil holder. “You deserve this. And I will not stop pushing until I know you’ve exhausted every single avenue. Now, when was the last time you had an evaluation done on Barkingham Palace?”

She’d known Ridley long enough to tell when she wasn’t going to let something go. This was one of those times.

“Never,” Ashanti answered.

“So you have no idea how much this business is worth? Let me clue you in on something, Shanti. You’ve got a fucking gold mine here. You can get a loan like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Add in that viral video and the plans for a bakery, and you can have your pick of lenders.”

“A bank is not going to loan me two million dollars because a video of Duchess and Puddin’ sharing a doggy treat went viral. I would need collateral. And even if I could get a loan, I can’t afford to take on that kind of debt.”

“First of all, you live in a house that’s worth three times as much as it was back when your parents bought it,” Ridley said. “There’s your collateral right there.”

Ashanti’s head reared back as if one of her best friends in the world had just slapped her clear across the mouth. “First of all, you know I would never put my parents’ home up for collateral. I can’t believe you would even suggest it.”

“People do it all the time, Shanti.”

“Not this person,” she said. “And in case you have forgotten, the twins will be off to college soon. I can’t saddle myself with millions in loans when I have to pay for the girls to go to school.”

“Another thing people do all the time? They take out student loans,” Ridley said.

Ashanti was already shaking her head. “My parents paid for me to go to college and vet school so that I could begin my career debt-free. They would want the same for Kara and Kendra. And as their legal guardian, it’s up to me to make sure that happens.”

She folded her arms across her chest and took a couple of steps back, leaning against the wall next to the portrait of Duchess dressed up as Angelica Schuyler from Hamilton the musical.

“You’re forgetting another thing,” Ashanti said. “Think for one minute, Rid. Just imagine for a millisecond the shitstorm that would ensue if Anita found out I put her dear baby brother’s house up for collateral for my business.”

“Fuck Atilla,” Ridley said. “You don’t owe her an accounting of your finances. What you do is none of her business.”

“Maybe you should tell her that the next time she comes around,” Ashanti said.

“Girl, just call me. Please! I can be in the middle of getting my back blown out by my fine-ass doorman, and I’d leave him hanging just so I can curse Atilla out to her face.”

Only Ridley could make her go from wanting to cry to laughing until her side hurt in the span of two minutes. They both had to wipe tears from their eyes.

“You know it pisses me off whenever you bring up that woman’s name,” Ridley said.

“She has that effect on people,” Ashanti said, still dabbing at tears.

“I’m serious about this, Shanti. You have sacrificed everything for your sisters. You put your entire life on hold and then took a complete detour from all the plans you’d made. That bitch doesn’t get to tell you anything, especially when it comes to Kara, Kendra, or that house. If her baby brother wanted her involved in any way, he would have made sure it was known. He didn’t, so…”

Ridley dusted her hands, as if the matter was done.

Ashanti wished it was that easy, but she’d been dealing with Anita for six years.

“Rid, I know your heart and your head are both in the right place, but the house is off-limits. I would maybe consider talking to the bank about a loan, but the thought of taking on that kind of debt scares the crap out of me.” She unfolded her hands and ran them through her braids, which she’d unbounded from her hair tie hours ago. “The real estate agent said they will begin accepting bids on Monday. I’ll keep thinking and maybe I can figure something out by then.”

There was nothing to figure out. She couldn’t afford the house. But this would, at least, get Ridley off her case for the time being.

“You know I’m not going to drop this, right?” Ridley said.

Or, maybe not.

Ridley stepped up to her with arms wide open, enveloping her in a hug. She added an extra squeeze, which Ashanti appreciated. It was all love between them, even when they didn’t see eye to eye.

“I’m going to watch the news segment when I get back to my office. I’ll let you know everything you did wrong.”

“Thanks.” Ashanti huffed out a laugh.

She waited until Ridley left the office, then slumped down in her chair and dropped her head onto the desk. But she didn’t get the mere five minutes of refuge she so desperately needed to clear her head, because within two minutes Colleen came into her office looking like she’d swallowed a gallon of raw seaweed.

“I think it’s something I ate at lunch,” she said. “Pro tip: If you’re not sure how long your leftover sushi has been in the fridge, don’t eat it.”

“Ew,” Ashanti said. “Go home. I’ll Instacart you some ginger ale and saltine crackers.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “It’s what my mom always fed me when I was sick.” She flicked her fingers at her. “Now go.”

Not even twenty minutes after Colleen left, Mark went home, taken down by the same suspect sushi. Their absence highlighted another vulnerability Ashanti was well aware of: She needed more staff. She had been lucky to find a group of such dedicated, hardworking, dog-loving people, but there was only so much the five of them could do. And when two of those five went down with apparent food poisoning?

Yeah, she needed help, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

Ashanti spent the rest of the afternoon and evening exercising the smaller dogs, taking care of the afternoon feedings, and manning the reception area whenever Deja needed a break—the number of calls they were now getting was seriously ridiculous. Ashanti hadn’t worked this much since those early days of the daycare, when it was only the three of them. Back then, Kara and Kendra used to spend their afternoons helping out with the dogs. She missed those days.

Except for the work. She didn’t miss that level of mind-numbing exhaustion at all.

There were only three dogs that required after-care hours, and surprisingly, no overnight boarders, but Leslie had remained. She found Ashanti cleaning the suite where they kept Mrs. LeBlanc’s geriatric toy poodle, Muffin Top. Muffin Top was eighteen years old and peed in her suite more than she did outside.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Leslie asked.

“I got it,” Ashanti said. She looked up. “Has Puddin’ been picked up yet?”

“Not yet. I tried calling Thad Sims again, but the phone went to voicemail.”

Ashanti glanced at her watch. It was ten minutes past eight.

Her first instinct was to curse him out for taking advantage of their agreement, but she had been sole guardian of her sisters for too long not to feel a pinch of worry that maybe something had happened to him.

“Go on,” she told Leslie. “I’ll continue trying to contact him.”

Ashanti leaned the mop handle against the wall and scrolled through her recent calls. She spotted Thad’s number easy enough, it was the only number that didn’t have a 504 area code in her most recent calls.

She called the number, but it went to voicemail. She got a jolt when she heard his deep voice on the voicemail greeting instead of a modulated robotic one. She hadn’t pegged him as the type to record his own greeting.

“This is Ashanti Wright at Barkingham Palace. It is—” She checked her watch again. “Eight thirteen. After-care hours ended at eight p.m., so I’m assuming you want Puddin’ to be boarded for the night. And because you did not pre-book the overnight stay, the ninety-dollar emergency overnight boarding fee will be charged to your account. Have a good evening,” she ended.

A minute later her phone buzzed with a text.

Very sorry. Be there in 10.

He made it in five.

Ashanti stood in the daycare entrance with her arms crossed over her chest. It was her you’re in trouble pose. She hoped it worked on him better than it did on the twins.

“I’m sorry,” Thad said, holding his hands up as he climbed the steps. “I swear, I didn’t do this on purpose. I left my phone in my glove box and lost track of time.”

She was probably foolish to believe him. Then again, why would he lie? His white T-shirt and the well-worn jeans that fit his body to perfection were both caked with dust and grime, indicating a long and brutal workday.

“I promise, it’s the truth,” he said. “Please, don’t charge me ninety dollars.”

Ashanti stepped out of the way so that he could enter.

“Where’s the dog?” he asked.

“Who?” She cupped her palm behind her ear.

“Puddin’,” he amended. “Where’s Puddin’?”

“He’s in the back with Duchess. I’ll get them.” He started to follow, but she stopped him. “I’m not saying you’re a serial rapist ax murderer, but I don’t know that you’re not a serial rapist ax murderer. So I’m gonna need you to stay in the lobby.”

“That’s fair,” he said. He held his hands out and waved them around. “But I don’t have an ax, so that takes care of that one. And I can only tell you that I’m not a rapist of any kind, but it’s up to you to believe me. I was raised, in part, by Frances Sutherland, if that holds any weight.”

Ashanti tried her best to hold her composure as she looked him up and down. If she laughed it would only encourage him.

“It does,” she finally said and motioned for him to follow her.

“Yes.” He did a celebratory fist pump. “Grams for the win.”

She lost the battle, laughing as they made their way to the back.

They entered the small dog play area and Ashanti headed straight for the ball pit. It was Puddin’ and Duchess’s favorite. Colorful plastic balls popped up in the air like kernels in a popcorn maker as the two frolicked around the pool.

“These two are probably the only ones who aren’t upset that you’re late, but I can tell you who is upset with you.”

“Besides you?”

“Besides me,” she said. She looked over at him. “Your grandmother is pissed. How could you not call to let her know Puddin’ would be making his television debut?”

Thad threw his head back and let out a sigh. “I should have,” he said.

“Did you even watch the news segment?”

“I was planning to watch the replay on the evening broadcast.”

She wasn’t buying that for a minute. She was raising teenagers; she knew fake earnestness when she saw it.

“You are so lying right now,” Ashanti said.

A slow grin played across his lips. It did things to her. Adult things. Very specific, very indecent adult things.

Lord, save me from fine men with nice smiles.

“Okay, no, I wasn’t planning on watching it,” Thad admitted. His grin turned sheepish. “You’re judging me right now, aren’t you?”

“Harshly,” Ashanti said. She walked over to the right side of the room and grabbed the dog leashes from the wall pegs, keeping her back turned so that he couldn’t see her smiling. “Do you know how ironic it is that everyone in the country loves Puddin’ except for the person blessed with the opportunity to care for him?”

She turned back to find Thad rubbing both dogs underneath their chins. Her heart melted then and there.

This was so not good.

“In my defense, I was busy all day,” Thad said.

Ashanti held up a hand. “Please, spare me. I can’t handle hearing about whatever it is you’re doing to my house.”

“Still calling it your house, huh?” He took the leash from her and fastened it to Puddin’s collar.

“I did promise myself I would stop thinking of it that way,” Ashanti admitted, hooking Duchess to her leash.

“That sounds like a healthier way to cope.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the tip.” She turned out the light in the play area, and she and Thad made their way back to the lobby. “You’d better have your apology ready for your grandmother,” Ashanti said as she gave the reception area a final once-over.

Thad held the front door open for her. “I know how to win over Grams,” he said. “But I guess I need to watch the news story, just in case she asks me about it.”

“I’ll text you a link to the segment.” Ashanti stopped with her hand on the door. “That is, if you don’t mind me texting. I don’t make a habit of sending personal texts to clients. I usually only contact clients in cases of emergency, but I figured since—”

“Ashanti.” He cut her off.

She met his eyes. “Yeah?”

“I don’t mind getting texts from you,” Thad said.

She sucked in a breath and begged herself to stop staring at his deep brown eyes.

“Okay.”

God, why did her voice sound like she’d just hiked a mile through mud?

She locked the front door and Thad gestured for her to go ahead of him down the stairs. At first, Ashanti thought it was his truck parked at the curb in front of Mrs. Short’s house, but the closer she got to it she realized that truck was dark green, not black.

She turned to Thad to tell him that he didn’t have to walk her to her car, but they were already there.

“This yours?” he asked.

She nodded.

Several beats passed before Thad said, “So you getting in?”

She nodded again. Why could she not use words?

Thad continued staring at her, and it wasn’t until Duchess barked that Ashanti remembered what she should have been doing.

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head as she used her key fob to unlock her SUV. “It’s been a long day.”

“I apologize again for making it longer,” he said.

She opened the back door and helped Duchess climb up and into her booster seat, strapping her in. She turned and noticed that Thad had moved several feet back. The streetlight illuminated him from above, highlighting every inviting feature. This man was an amazing physical specimen. Thank goodness his personality—at least what she knew of it—rubbed her the wrong way.

At least it used to rub her the wrong way. It had started rubbing her a different way lately.

“Thanks for walking me to my car,” Ashanti said.

“Thanks for not charging me ninety bucks because I was late,” he said.

She grinned. “You haven’t gotten your bill yet. Besides, after-care is on me this week, remember?”

“Ah, yes!” He pitched his head back and chuckled up at the sky. “Thank you. I promise to pick the dog up on time tomorrow.”

“Who are you picking up on time?” Ashanti asked as she climbed into the SUV.

He frowned, then laughed. “Puddin’. I promise to pick Puddin’ up on time tomorrow.”

She nodded. “See that you do.”

She waved at Puddin’ before closing the door and pulling away from the curb. She glanced in her rearview mirror several times, finding Thad in the same spot on the sidewalk, watching her drive away.