Chapter 11
Cooper was waiting outside the theater as the audience spilled out of the doors at the end of the performance. His hands were shoved into the pockets of a navy blue wool overcoat, and a plaid Burberry scarf hung from his neck.
Seeing him was like drinking a cup of hot coffee on a cold morning, and his smile as I approached definitely did something to my heart rate, but I wasn’t wearing my smart watch, so I couldn’t check to be sure.
He held my shoulders as he bent down to kiss my cheek, his lips lingering long enough that I could feel his warm breath on my neck—and that certainly made my blood swish a little faster.
“Nice jacket,” he said, indicating Beau’s jacket, which I’d draped over my arm after I retrieved my coat.
“Beau let me borrow it. He had to leave early—Sam had a migraine.” I decided to go with the same story I’d told the rest of our party.
“Probably for the best. I hear Arnaud’s is very haunted.”
“Really? Anybody in particular?”
“Considering parts of it were once opium dens and houses of ill repute, it shouldn’t come as a surprise if some of the hangers-on are pretty happy where they are.
But the original owner, known as the Count, is seen in the main dining room, surveying his domain.
All of the spirits are friendly, at least—as far as I’ve read. ”
“Oh, you read up on it?”
He smiled down at me, and my heart may have sped up another beat or two. “Of course. I always like to be prepared.”
I stepped closer to him, enjoying his warmth. With the tip of my finger, I brushed the scar on his chin. “You don’t need a roof or walls to be haunted, you know. I’ve come to believe that we create ghosts out of our memories and our grief for things we’ve lost. Or opportunities. Or people.”
His eyes met mine. “Nola…” he began.
“Come on—the Uber’s here,” Camille said from behind us.
“We’re missing some prime drinking time,” Henry said, heading toward a light blue SUV.
“Let’s walk,” I said to Cooper. “It’s only a few blocks.
” My toes groaned at the suggestion. As Jolene had put it, I was wearing a pair of her “sittin’ down” shoes, meaning they were for decorative purposes only.
But I was eager to speak with Cooper alone, to ask him about the spirit of the woman Beau had seen behind Cooper at Café Degas.
There were plenty of Band-Aids and ice at the apartment.
“Come on, Jolene,” Carly called. “We’ll let the boys sit in the back so you and I can talk wedding details.”
Jolene looked at me with an expression of horror.
“Why don’t you come walk with us?” I suggested, ignoring her four-inch stilettos. There were enough Band-Aids and ice for both of us.
“I’d love to,” she shouted, with a little too much enthusiasm. “We’ve been sitting so long, and I would appreciate stretching my legs.”
“Let’s go,” Henry said, his hand pressing firmly on Camille’s back. “Drinking time’s a-wasting.”
Cooper gently took my elbow and then Jolene’s and started walking before the SUV’s door had shut.
“Thank you,” Jolene said. “I don’t know if I could have survived the four blocks, so thank you. I might be crippled for a month from walking in these heels, but it will be worth it.”
“Not a fan of Henry’s?” Cooper asked.
I turned so I could meet Jolene’s gaze.
“Well, he’s certainly easy on the eyes, but I don’t think both his oars are in the water—you know what I mean?”
“So I’m guessing it’s Carly you’re avoiding?” Cooper said.
I elbowed him gently in the side. “Let’s talk about more pleasant things, okay? Like your trip to London. Or even how pervasive mildew can be. Just anything else, please.”
Cooper chuckled as we continued down North Rampart, our conversation about nothing at all.
We arrived at the restaurant at the same time as the Uber, so we were all escorted into the main dining room together.
I tried to ensure that Jolene was seated between Cooper and me to prevent her having to converse with either Henry or Carly.
But somehow she managed to sit next to Jaxson, with me on her left and Cooper on my left.
The table was round, so conversation among the entire party would still be possible, but at least this way Jolene had a better chance of enjoying her meal.
I looked around me at the august space in one of New Orleans’ premier and historic eateries—which was saying a lot, considering both adjectives could describe many of the restaurants in the Big Easy.
Arnaud’s had been around since the turn of the previous century, and it had survived the Volstead Act through the sheer cunning of its owner, the Count.
A massive restoration in the late seventies had ensured that the original chandeliers, iron columns, and cypress paneling remained.
The old ceiling fans also stayed—and were reportedly as temperamental now as they’d been back when the restaurant was new.
Beautiful beveled glass windows had replaced a wall of pebbled glass—a change that I didn’t hate even though it meant exchanging something historic with something that, well, wasn’t.
Above us, an exact replica of the original tin ceiling graced the entire main dining room.
But the details I’d been most excited to see since I’d first read about the restoration, when I was an undergrad at Tulane, were the original small Italian tiles that covered the floors throughout the restaurant, with patterns and colors varying from room to room.
They were almost as iconic as the restaurant itself.
“May I interest you in a cocktail?” Our server, dressed immaculately in a black tuxedo and bow tie, stood next to the table, looking at me expectantly.
“Maker’s Mark on the rocks for me,” Henry interjected. “And make it a double.”
The server smiled, then returned his attention to me, apparently adhering to the ladies-first rule. “Seltzer water with lemon, please.”
“What?” Henry asked with exaggerated surprise. “You can’t order seltzer water. This is New Orleans!” He turned to the server. “She’ll have what I’m having.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m fine with the seltzer water.”
“The lady will have a double bourbon,” Henry said, his voice loud enough that other diners turned to stare.
“No, she won’t.” Cooper remained seated and didn’t raise his voice, but that didn’t make him any less menacing.
The scar on his chin whitened against his flushed skin, the only indication that he wasn’t as calm as he otherwise appeared.
Cooper turned to the server. “She’ll have the seltzer with lemon, and so will I. ”
Henry started to say something but was stopped by his wife’s hand on his arm.
I studied Camille for a moment, surprised that she had the ability to rein in her husband.
I didn’t know a lot about marriage except what I’d seen between Jack and Melanie (a lot of which made me want to cover my eyes and block out sound), but they probably weren’t the norm—at least not according to the true-crime shows I binged with Jolene.
The main takeaway was that it was impossible to know exactly what went on in a marriage unless you were one of the two people involved.
As far as Camille and Henry went, I was happy not knowing.
Fortunately, since almost all of us had just seen the same theatrical production, there was plenty to talk about while we perused the menu.
I’d already decided on the Shrimp Arnaud to start, and the Crabmeat Karen for my entrée.
I wanted to go ahead and select my dessert to make sure they wouldn’t run out, but the desserts weren’t printed on the menu.
Conversation flowed, Carly talking about her wedding, and Camille discussing her excitement about working in the antiques business again and about how surprised she was that Christopher still worked at the Past Is Never Past, since he’d been there when she’d worked at the shop before Katrina. She almost seemed disappointed.
Thankfully, Henry grew quieter the more he drank, and he stopped trying to convince me to have a drink, too.
Jaxson and Jolene were strangely silent, probably because Carly was happy to do all the talking.
When she mentioned wedding-dress shopping I felt Jolene tense beside me.
I turned to Camille and, talking over Carly, said, “I’m sorry Beau had to leave.
I know he wanted the chance to talk with you about Adele, since you knew her longer than he did. ”
“We don’t talk about Adele,” Henry slurred. “Right, Camille?”
Camille stared at her plate. “We don’t,” she said quietly. “It’s too painful.”
“Yup,” Henry said, followed by a loud burp. “Too painful.”
I was saved from responding by the sound of my phone buzzing in my purse. I discreetly slid it out and saw a text from Beau. Can you talk.
“Everything all right?” Cooper asked.
“Yeah. I just need to make a quick phone call.”
Cooper stood to pull out my chair as I excused myself, and I made my way to the ladies’ room. Beau picked up on the first ring.
“Seriously?” I said before he had a chance to say anything.
“This whole evening was meant to get you together with Camille so maybe she’ll help you find out what your mom is looking for and give you any information she has about where your dad went.
But you left, and I have no idea what you want me to ask her. I have your jacket, by the way.”
“I’m sorry. Really. I just…” I heard him breathe out. “Anyway, that’s why I’m calling. My jacket has my wallet and driver’s license in it, and I left my car parked near the restaurant. I thought I’d call an Uber so I can meet up with you to get my jacket.”
“Well, you’d better hurry. They’re getting ready to serve dessert. It’s late and I need to get home. I can’t sleep in tomorrow morning because we’re meeting Madame Zoe—remember?”
“Hard to forget. My phone keeps zinging with reminders from you.”