Chapter 2 #2
Jolene frowned, the perfect skin on her forehead creasing. “Have you lost your cotton-pickin’ mind? After what they did to the Ryans? Let me check your temperature, because either you have a terrible fever or you’ve truly lost your mind.”
“I’m joking. Obviously. Besides, Robert Sabatier is in jail, facing kidnapping charges for taking Sunny, and I heard that his wife, Angelina, has temporarily moved to New York to be with Michael and Sunny—although Sunny still wants to be called Felicity.
Mimi said that she and Sunny are FaceTiming once a week to connect, so that’s something. ”
“Poor Mimi,” Jolene said. “All of those years looking for her granddaughter, and when she finally finds her, it seems she didn’t want to be found.”
“Probably because she never considered herself lost.”
Jolene’s eyes met mine across the table.
She nodded solemnly, giving me the impression that she was back to normal and at any moment she would notice that she hadn’t set the table properly.
Or put on shoes. “So”—I pushed away my cold coffee and the tub of butter and indicated the cluttered table—“what are you doing?”
“I’m planning an engagement party, silly.” She smiled brightly, as if I were the confused person.
“Exactly. For Jaxson. And Carly.”
“I know.” Her smile didn’t fade, and her expression reminded me of that worn by the actresses in The Stepford Wives.
During my first tumultuous months back in New Orleans, Jolene had stuck by me as I navigated my new life, as well as an alcohol-addiction relapse and a heartbreak.
She’d been the kind of friend who offered love and support even when they weren’t deserved—the kind of friend she needed right now.
“Jolene,” I said softly, “you know I love you like a sister, right? So I want you to hear me when I say that I think you need some time off. Jaxson’s engagement must have been a bit of a shock. ”
“Why would you say that?”
My gaze drifted down to her feet before taking in the butter tub and mug resting on the table, then rose to meet her green eyes. “You seem…disoriented.”
“Do I?” Her voice sounded unnaturally high.
She wiggled her toes, each nail painted a delicate pink.
“If it’s about the bare feet, I kick off my shoes when I need to do some deep thinking.
It reminds me of when I was just a little bitty thing and I’d run out the back door before Mama could catch me and make me put my shoes on. Helps me focus.”
“Then maybe you should go home to Mississippi for a bit. Take a break and schedule spa time with your mother and grandmother.”
She chewed on her lower lip. “Well, I was planning on going home for Thanksgiving, and that’s only a couple of weeks away. Beau said I could take the whole week off since nothing usually happens at the office over the holiday.”
“Maybe he’ll let you go sooner, and you can work remotely.” I gave her an encouraging smile. “I’ll make sure that tons of photos are taken and videos are recorded, and I’ll send them to you so you can post them with your amazing commentary.”
She was silent, her brow furrowed. I was already mentally clapping myself on the back when Jolene’s face brightened and she slid her chair back before slapping her hands on the table. “Thank you! Despite your appalling lack of style sense, you’ve got good horse sense.”
I stared at her. “You’re welcome—I think. But thanks for what?”
“For giving me the idea of where to host the most perfect engagement party ever! Mama and Daddy are always looking for a good excuse to entertain, and they will be over the moon to have a reason to bring out the special Pickard china they only use for big family gatherings, like the Fourth of July and funerals.”
“But—”
“It could be a destination engagement party! Like a destination bachelorette party or wedding, but closer to home. It’s only four hours away, and we have tons of room on account of my daddy hosting hunting parties and us having so much kin that hosting Thanksgiving and Christmas is a lot like gathering the troops before a big battle—except we’re friendlier.
We’ve converted the old garconnière into a guesthouse that sleeps twelve.
And if we have overflow, there’s always Grandmama’s funeral home.
She doesn’t live there anymore because of the nightmares, but she always keeps the four upstairs bedrooms clean and ready for unexpected guests. ”
“But—”
“Carly already told me that she’s letting me handle all the details, that she trusts me to make it the best party ever, and, thanks to you, I will!”
“But—”
“I can start the planning over Thanksgiving. We can throw the party right before Christmas so Mama won’t have to do any extra decorating since the house will already be sparkling like a float in the Christmas parade.
She’ll want to add tulle and glitter for the special occasion, and of course red roses—I wonder how hard those are to come by in December.
I bet Grandmama knows, since people die in December, which is highly inconvenient, but they still want roses at their funerals, but—”
“Jolene.” I said it louder than usual because she was on an overcaffeinated train of unfiltered thought that could go on for hours and I was going to be late for work.
I was an architectural historian for a civil engineering firm, and though my employers were very accommodating with my schedule, allowing me to fit my office hours around the renovations of my house, they had their limits.
Jolene stopped midsentence, her green eyes widening. “Why are you shouting? You’ve made me forget what I was saying.”
“Good, because I need you to have a long think about this whole engagement-party idea. I know any party you planned would be the most amazing party ever, but I’m wondering if your efforts would be better spent elsewhere—like on organizing the house-blessing party for when my house is finally done.
You’ve mentioned doing that before.” I gave her an encouraging smile.
Her shoulders dipped. “But I already—”
I held up my hand. “I know. Why don’t you drink a tall glass of water and then go lie down? I’ll call Beau and tell him you’ll be coming in late this morning, all right?”
“But I’ve already made my bed.”
“Of course you have,” I said under my breath. “I haven’t made mine, so feel free to use it. We can talk again after work. I’ll order pizza. We can put on one of your gooey face masks and have a good chat, all right? Hopefully by then the caffeine will have worn off and you can think clearly.”
She lowered her eyes. “All right. Maybe I need to go back to Mississippi early regardless. Nothing like being home to restore the soul, you know?”
“Yeah. I know.” I gave her a lopsided grin.
“Cooper was supposed to drive me home to Charleston for Thanksgiving, but now he has to fly to Malaysia on business and won’t be able to.
A plane ticket’s not in my budget, and I refuse to accept another penny from my parents.
It’s no big deal—I’ll be seeing them for Christmas. ”
She perked up. “Then you need to come with me! Mama would love to have you! And you can meet the rest of my family!”
I imagined Jolene times ten, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find the thought more than a little intimidating—and exhausting.
“Wow, that’s really generous, but I’d planned to use the time to catch up on work and install plumbing fixtures in the downstairs bathroom at my house.
Definitely another time, okay? I’d love to meet your family, since I’ve heard so much about them. ”
“Okay.” She gave me a tired smile, and I noticed how her usually fresh lipstick had faded to a pale rose.
“How long have you been up?”
Jolene glanced at her watch. “I’m not sure I ever went to bed. I had all of these party plans running through my head and I needed to write them down before I forgot them, so as soon as you went to bed I made a pot of coffee. And then I think I made another. It’s all sort of fuzzy right now….”
I took her elbow and pulled her from her chair.
“You’ll feel better after you’ve had a good sleep.
” I led her to my room and tucked her into my bed after removing an unhappy Mardi.
She was already asleep before I’d pulled the covers over her.
I grabbed my clothes for work, then tiptoed out of the room, carrying Mardi so he wouldn’t jump back into the bed.
I was eager to feed and walk the dog, then get to work before Jolene awoke and realized she’d gone to sleep with her makeup on.
I was halfway to the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee and fill Mardi’s bowl when my cell phone rang. “Hi, Sarah. Shouldn’t you be at school?”
I could picture her rolling her eyes. “I am. But I snuck my phone into school so I could excuse myself to use the bathroom during class and talk to you in private. I don’t want Mom to hear.”
A smattering of gooseflesh erupted down my spine. “Oh, okay. What’s up?” I forced a light tone. “You want me to tell Jolene you don’t want the Barbie head?”
“Um, no. It’s something else.”
I waited for her to continue, the gooseflesh rippling along my skin as a ball of dread congealed in the pit of my stomach.
“I got a phone call from Great-grandma Sarah. On Mom’s landline. The one that’s not plugged in or anything.”
My gaze drifted to my own unplugged telephone sitting on top of the ancient teacher’s desk in the dining room.
Melanie’s deceased grandmother Sarah had called me on that phone, too, but mercifully she had been silent ever since the spirit showdown in the Ryans’ attic.
I’d tried hiding the old phone in the back of my closet, but it kept reappearing on the desk, in the exact spot from where it had been removed.
I’d considered taking it to a dumpster, but I had chosen not to when the phone had stopped ringing.
After listening to my sister, I was rethinking my decision.
“Yeah? Did she have anything interesting to say?”
“Hang on.” Her words were muffled, as if she was holding her cell phone against her chest, and then all I could hear was the sound of a distant door clanging shut, followed shortly afterward by a toilet flushing and water running.
“That was close. I had to duck into a stall. That was Holly McCormick, and if she’d caught me she would have gone straight to the head of school’s office. ”
“So, what did Grandma Sarah have to say?” I tried to keep the impatience out of my voice.
She paused, and I could hear her breathing into the phone.
“Sarah?”
“Do you remember that fortune teller we saw at Jackson Square that day we all had lunch at Muriel’s?”
“Yeah. It was right before we saw the wet footprints and you saw Beau’s mom. Adele.”
“Like the singer.” Sarah’s voice was so quiet I could barely hear her.
“That’s right. And Adele said something to you.”
“She told me that she wanted to help Beau.”
“And she said to decide what’s worth the fight and let the rest go—among other things. I remember.”
“Yeah, well, Grandma Sarah said that again today on the phone.”
I closed my eyes, wondering why I had bothered to wake up today.
“She said that you needed to go talk to Madame Zoe about Buddy. I have no clue who she was talking about, and I was hoping that you might.”
I cleared my throat. “Madame Zoe is the fortune teller. Buddy is Beau’s dad.
Madame Zoe stopped by a few weeks ago. She didn’t stay to chat, just long enough to say that Beau needed me and that I needed to bring him to her so they could talk about Buddy.
Madame Zoe apparently knew him. He also disappeared during Katrina. ”
“He’s not dead,” Sarah said matter-of-factly.
“I sort of figured, since we haven’t seen his footprints following us around, although I’m not sure why he’s stayed gone all this time if he’s still alive. I’m sure that’s part of Beau’s anger toward his parents.”
She didn’t respond. “Sarah? You still there?”
“I’m here.” I listened as she breathed in, then out, my nerves on high alert.
“There’s one more thing she wanted me to tell you, and I don’t know how you’re going to take it.”
I sat down hard in my recently vacated chair, my knees wobbly. Mardi stopped whining for his food and rested his head and paws on my feet. That was the thing about dogs. They were better than most people at sensing things that we couldn’t see or feel—or that we preferred to pretend weren’t there.
“She kept saying the word ‘bones,’ and then there was a sound like…sucking mud—like when we’d dig for clams in the marsh.”
“ ‘Bones’ and sucking mud,” I repeated. A flash of lightning flared from the window, followed by a roar of thunder. Mardi shuffled under my chair for protection but returned his paw to rest on my foot.
A song began blasting in my ear, drowning out Sarah’s voice.
“Do you hear that?” I shouted. If she replied, I couldn’t hear it.
The call ended, abruptly stopping the music.
I placed the phone on the table, not wanting to drop it from my shaking hand, the familiar tune still in my head, its words on a seeming loop.
“Rolling in the Deep” by Adele. I wanted to believe that it was a coincidence that Beau’s mother’s name was Adele—but as my father, Jack, had often said, there was no such thing as coincidence.
I closed my eyes as a burst of hard rain pelted the window, suddenly reminding me of something Jolene had told me. When the water rises in New Orleans, it’s anyone’s guess what might rise with it.