Chapter 10
Jolene and I stood outside the Lucy Rose boutique on Magazine Street, peering into the front window. “Come on, Nola. I am absolutely positive that we’ll find something in here for you to wear tonight. I never leave this store empty-handed.”
With multiple shopping bags draped over her arm, she pulled open the door. Eyeing my pitiful lone and very small bag, she said, “I know you can do better than that.”
I’d been to the Magazine Street shop of the renowned New Orleans native and jewelry designer Mignon Faget and purchased pretty, dangly fleur-de-lis earrings for Sarah.
They were the first Christmas present I’d bought this year, and I was feeling proud of myself for starting before December.
Melanie usually had all gifts purchased, wrapped, and labeled by October, so I had a long way to go, but at least this was a start.
Jolene continued. “They have the cutest clothes and accessories. I know we’ll find the perfect outfit for you.
And then we can go to Petcetera to get something festive for Mardi for Thanksgiving.
Do you think I should ask Mama to set a place for him at the table?
You know how he likes to be a part of the action. ”
I’d given up trying to say no to Jolene’s invitation to go with her to Mississippi for the upcoming holiday.
It wasn’t worth the cold coffee and burnt muffins that had been my morning staples until I’d finally agreed.
And as Jolene pointed out, my Creole cottage had been waiting for a makeover for more than five decades; it could wait a little longer.
Delaying work on my house was made somewhat more palatable by speaking with Thibaut, who let me know that the roof issue was more extensive than previously thought and that repointing the bricks would have to be put off for now.
At least I had that to look forward to. That and redoing my spreadsheets, which I updated daily and helpfully tacked onto the kitchen wall to keep Thibaut and Jorge on track.
There was still some debate about scheduling potty breaks, so I left them off. For now.
Jolene immediately headed over to a rack of clothing marked SALE.
Watching Jolene shop was like watching Michelangelo sculpt his David or Leonardo da Vinci paint his Mona Lisa.
She was swift, methodical, and thorough as she flipped through hangers, pulling out a lilac cashmere cardigan with the precision of a scientist pulling out DNA from a smear of blood.
Reaching into her animal-print handbag—which matched her shoes, naturally—she retrieved a cell phone–sized plastic folder containing swatches of fabric. I’d seen her whip it out in the other stores we’d already visited and I’d been afraid to ask, but my curiosity won out.
“Okay. I give up. What is that?”
Her green eyes widened with surprise as if I’d just asked if she might be pregnant.
“It’s my colors.” Her face softened with understanding.
“I keep forgetting that you were raised mostly in California, bless your heart. But don’t worry—we can fix that.
Remember my aunt Janie I told you about?
I’ll make an appointment with her for you to have your colors done when we’re down for Thanksgiving. It will change. Your. Life.”
“Wow. Hard to believe I’ve survived this long without having my ‘colors done,’ whatever that means.
Maybe Sarah would like to have hers done, too.
” My younger sister had been added to the ever-growing list of people invited to Mrs. McKenna’s Thanksgiving table, and if I had to submit to getting my colors done, then there was no reason why Sarah couldn’t share in the misery.
“That’s an excellent idea,” Jolene said, with so much enthusiasm that I was sure she would have clapped her hands if they’d been empty. “You will both thank me. Knowing which colors flatter you the best is a lifelong skill.”
“Like potty training,” I said with a smile, repeating what she’d once told me about learning how to drive.
“Exactly.” She returned the color swatches to her bag and slid the hanger back onto the rack.
I headed over to a jewelry display and picked up a pair of copper-colored bangles. Holding them up for Jolene to see, I said, “What about these for tonight?”
“They’re very pretty. But if you don’t find a dress to wear, I think people will be too distracted by your naked body to notice them.”
I rolled my eyes. “Can’t I just borrow something from your closet?
If I buy something new, chances are I won’t wear it again, and borrowing something would save me money.
” I had just received a small raise, so I wasn’t panicking about paying my rent, but I was tired from shopping and wanted to go home, so I threw that last bit in to garner sympathy.
Her sigh of disappointment carried the same weight as one Melanie would give my dad when she’d notice that the dresser drawers she’d organized and labeled were once again in disarray.
“Don’t you like dressing up just a little bit?
We’re going to the Saenger Theatre. Have you seen it?
I think it might even be illegal not to wear lipstick and heels. ”
At my doubtful look, she added, “Well, if it’s not illegal, it should be. And afterward we’ll be dining at Arnaud’s, and Cooper will be joining us, so I know you’ll want to look your best.”
I put the bangles back and picked up a large padded headband studded with multicolored rhinestones. “I thought the purpose of dressing well was to make you feel beautiful on the inside.”
Jolene studied me for a moment, taking in my jeans, the scuffed ankle boots that I’d borrowed from Melanie years ago and kept forgetting to return, my old Ashley Hall school cardigan, and my trusty frayed backpack.
“That’s very true. But right now you’re looking like someone whose roof is leaking, who can’t afford to go home for Thanksgiving, and whose love life is as complicated as two spiders trying to square-dance.
” She stopped speaking and I waited for her to say another bless your heart, but instead she reached over, plucked the headband out of my hands, and returned it to the display.
“It’s rare that I turn down something sparkly, but I think this looks too much like part of a Mardi Gras costume.
It would certainly draw attention, but not the right kind of attention. ”
“Like wearing a dress that has both a low neckline and a high hemline?”
She beamed at me. “Exactly. I’m glad you’ve been paying attention.” She turned back to the sale rack. “Now let’s find something pretty for you to wear. I’m thinking blue to match your eyes, so you look like Princess Elsa instead of something the dog dug up out of the yard.”
Jolene dragged me through three more shops on Magazine before we found something we both agreed upon and I could afford.
When we made it back to Bubba and loaded our bags into the trunk I felt like I’d just survived a bloody battle.
I slid into Bubba’s passenger seat, grateful for the extra legroom afforded by the older-model car, and kicked off my boots to wiggle feeling back into my toes.
As Jolene pulled out of her parking spot amid a series of sharp horn honks from an approaching car, she said, “Are you excited about tonight?”
I was eager to attend a performance of Beetlejuice at the historic Saenger.
The theater was a testament to all I held dear in terms of historic preservation.
Hurricane Katrina had almost destroyed it, and it had remained closed for eight years, but during that time it had been lovingly restored to its 1920s art deco splendor, and it had returned to being a mainstay of New Orleans’ cultural backbone.
It was the rest of the evening that I was worried about.
“We’ll have to hurry. I’ll take care of feeding and walking Mardi while you get started.
” Jolene sent me a quick side-glance. “Don’t worry about washing your hair.
I’m thinking a high ponytail would be perfect with your new dress, since it will highlight the cutout in the back, and making a ponytail smooth is always easier when the hair isn’t freshly washed. ”
“How do you know all this stuff?”
“Trial and error, Nola. Just trial and error. You have to go through a lot of awful before you can get to just right.” She turned to me briefly, but long enough for me to understand that she was talking about more than just hair and makeup.
I was reminded yet again how easily her bright external persona hid her sharp mind and accurate assessment of people and situations.
It was a secret very few were privileged to unravel.
I had long since determined that I was very fortunate to have Jolene McKenna in my life—and not just for the coffee and fresh baked goods.
“I added Cooper to the dinner reservation, so now it will be a table for nine. Arnaud’s seemed okay with the odd number.”
“Thanks for doing that. I wouldn’t have asked, but I haven’t seen him for a week and he’s headed out of town again tomorrow. At least you can still be my date for the theater. And I’ll make sure you’re on the end and not next to Carly or Jaxson.”
She smiled without saying anything and I knew she was probably thinking that she wouldn’t mind sitting next to Jaxson, even though we both knew that would be a terrible idea.