Chapter 8
NOLA Cookery was a short drive from the hotel, tucked into a corner building in the historic district.
Barrett held the door for Cadie and followed her inside.
The restaurant was intimate and inviting, with exposed brick walls and soft lighting from wrought-iron chandeliers.
The aroma of Cajun spices and fresh seafood filled the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation and the gentle strains of jazz from hidden speakers.
A hostess led them to a corner table, somewhat secluded from the other diners. White tablecloths covered the small tables, and candles flickered in glass holders. The atmosphere was romantic, the kind of place meant for couples rather than business meetings.
Barrett pulled out Cadie's chair before taking his own seat across from her.
The candlelight played across her features, highlighting the green of her eyes and the soft curve of her lips.
She looked beautiful in her jeans and emerald blouse.
The color brought out the depth of her eyes in a way that made it difficult for him to look anywhere else.
He wished she didn't have to deal with the details of what had happened to her aunt. She deserved peace, not suspicion and investigation. But there was no alternative. Celia Ann had left specific instructions, and the evidence was beginning to suggest those instructions had been warranted.
His mind drifted to what he had read earlier.
There was an entry in the planner five months before Celia Ann's death that mentioned fatigue after teaching, a complaint that seemed minor on its own.
But a journal entry two months later described the worsening exhaustion, interfering with daily activities.
The progression was clear when the pieces were laid out.
Something had been happening to Celia Ann over those final months, something gradual and insidious.
"What are you thinking?"
Cadie's voice pulled him from his thoughts.
"About you." Barrett smiled. "You're beautiful."
Color rose in Cadie's cheeks, but she seemed uncertain how to respond. The moment stretched between them, charged with possibility.
Then the waitress appeared at their table, breaking the spell. She was young and cheerful, with a notepad ready. "Good evening. Can I start you with something to drink?"
Cadie glanced at Barrett, then back at the waitress. "I'm guessing I need a drink before I hear what you found out today."
"I probably do too," Barrett said.
Cadie ordered a glass of white wine, and Barrett chose bourbon on the rocks. The waitress promised to return shortly and left them alone.
Cadie looked around the restaurant with evident fondness. "This place has the best Low Country cuisine in Charleston," she said. "The shrimp and grits are incredible."
Barrett watched her as she talked, admiring the way her face lit up when she discussed something she loved. Her hands moved gracefully as she gestured, describing favorite dishes and memorable meals. He enjoyed watching her.
The drinks arrived, and he took a couple of sips. The bourbon was smooth, warming his chest as it went down.
Cadie set her wine glass on the table and met his eyes. "Tell me what you found."
"I'm consulting with Detective Mark Sullivan," Barrett said. "He's former Navy and we've worked together before. As soon as I was contacted about your aunt's case, I let him know that I'd be in Charleston and why. He was aware of the situation, since the estate attorney had alerted the police."
Cadie's eyes widened.
"Nothing came of it," Barrett said. "The attorney made a report at your aunt's request. The fact that she passed away not long after lends credibility to her concerns. When I informed Sullivan of my questions about your aunt's medications, he agreed that I should investigate it."
Cadie leaned forward slightly. "And?"
"The refill dates don't match the expected usage timeline."
Cadie frowned. "She wasn't being given her medication properly?"
"It could mean several things," Barrett said. "The pharmacist noted that sometimes caregivers make mistakes with complex medication schedules." He paused. "But he also said that sometimes they don't give the doses they're supposed to."
Cadie was quiet, absorbing this information. She took another sip of wine, her brow furrowed in thought. "What's your honest opinion? What do you think this means?"
Barrett considered his words carefully. He didn't want to alarm her unnecessarily, but she deserved the truth. "I think the medication irregularities, combined with your aunt's concerns in her journal, indicate negligence—or possible manipulation of her medications."
Cadie leaned back in her chair, clearly surprised by the assessment. For a moment, she didn't speak, just stared at the candle flickering between them.
Barrett knew what he'd told her was difficult to hear. The possibility that someone had harmed her aunt was disturbing, especially when that someone might have been a trusted caregiver.
The waitress returned to take their food orders. Cadie ordered the shrimp and grits she'd praised earlier, and Barrett selected the blackened redfish. When the waitress departed, silence settled between them again.
Barrett reached across the table and touched Cadie's hand. "There isn't much more to say about it tonight. I have more investigation planned. I'll dig deeper and talk to neighbors who might have observed things."
Cadie nodded slowly. "Okay."
"For now, let's enjoy the evening." He squeezed her hand gently before releasing it. "We can pick this up tomorrow."
She appeared relieved. "Thank you…for everything."
"You don't have to thank me." He meant it. Being here with her, helping her find answers, felt right in a way he hadn't expected.
As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, Cadie seemed to relax.
She asked about his business in California, and he told her about a few interesting cases, the ones that reminded him why he had chosen investigative work.
She laughed at his description of a surveillance job that had gone comically wrong, and the sound warmed him more than the bourbon.
The meals arrived. Cadie's shrimp and grits looked as good as she had promised, and his fish was perfectly seasoned. There was plenty of time to savor the food and enjoy each other's company.
"Tell me more about your life in New Orleans," Barrett said. "What's a typical day like for you?"
Cadie considered the question. "I wake up early, usually.
Practice piano for a couple of hours before anything else.
Then it depends on the day. Rehearsals with the band, sometimes studio work if we're recording.
Performances in the evenings, mostly in the French Quarter.
" She smiled. "It's a good life. The music scene there is incredible. "
"Do you ever perform solo?"
"Not really. I'm the piano player in Genevieve's band. That's my role."
Barrett heard what she wasn't saying. "But you want more."
Cadie looked down at her plate. "Sometimes I think about writing my own songs and performing them myself." She shrugged. "But Genevieve is the star. I'm happy supporting her."
"You're incredibly talented, Cadie. I heard you play at Stratton House."
She looked up at him. "You really think so?"
"I know so."
When the meal was over, Barrett suggested dessert, not wanting the evening to end. The waitress brought bread pudding with bourbon sauce, and he shared it with Cadie. His fork occasionally touched hers on the plate.
After a second drink, the conversation drifted to more personal territory.
Barrett talked about the years after high school, the path that had led him to the Navy SEALs and eventually to private investigation.
He didn't share the darker parts, the losses that still haunted him, but he gave her more than he usually gave anyone.
"Why didn't you ever marry?" Cadie asked, her voice soft.
Barrett turned his glass slowly on the table. "I convinced myself it wasn't worth the risk. Losing people changes you." He looked up at her. "I suppose I haven't been open to that. What about you?"
Cadie was quiet for a moment. "I never found anyone who felt right. A few relationships seemed promising, but they never lasted. I dated a bit, but my focus was on my music."
"No one measured up?"
She met his eyes. "No one ever did."
The admission hung in the air between them.
Barrett understood what she was saying, because he had experienced the same thing.
All those years, all the brief relationships that never went anywhere, and now he understood why.
He had been comparing every date to the girl he had kissed in a parking lot after a school dance, the one who had gotten away.
"I never forgot you, Cadie." The words came out before he could stop them. "I told myself I had moved on, but I really hadn't."
Cadie's eyes glistened in the candlelight. "I didn't forget you either. I used to wonder what would have happened if you had stayed, or if I had tried to find you."
"We were young," Barrett said. "I made choices I thought were right at the time…joining the Navy, focusing on my career. But I always wondered about you."
"And now here we are."
"Here we are."
The chemistry between them was undeniable, a current that had been building since they first saw each other at Stratton House. Barrett felt it in every glance, every accidental touch, every moment of shared silence.
Lingering over the last of the dessert, Cadie shared memories from high school, then the adventure of moving to New Orleans. The restaurant gradually emptied, but Barrett barely noticed. His attention was entirely on her.
Finally, the waitress brought the check, and Barrett again paid despite Cadie's protest. He escorted her outside into the cool evening air. The drive back to the hotel was short, but the atmosphere between them was charged with anticipation.
Barrett parked in the hotel lot but didn't get out of the car immediately. Cadie sat beside him, close enough that he could smell her perfume, something floral and subtle that made him want to lean closer.
He turned to look at her. The light cast soft shadows across her face, accentuating the curve of her cheek and the fullness of her lips. She was watching him with an expression that made his heart beat faster.
"Cadie," he said, his voice rough.
She didn't answer, just looked at him with those amazing eyes that had haunted his dreams for so long.
Barrett reached out and cupped her face in his hand. Her skin was warm and soft beneath his fingers. She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for just a moment.
Then he kissed her.
Her lips were soft and yielding. The kiss started gentle, tentative, as though he were afraid of breaking something fragile. But then Cadie's hand came up to rest on his chest, and Barrett felt the last of his resistance crumble.
He deepened the kiss, and she responded. Years of wondering, of what-ifs and regrets, melted away in the heat of the moment. She was there, in his arms, and that felt so right.
When he finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard. Barrett rested his forehead against hers, his hand still cradling her face. "I've wanted to do that since I saw you at the piano."
Cadie laughed softly, the sound breathless. "I've wanted you to do it."
Barrett pulled back enough to look at her. The vulnerability in her eyes matched what he felt in his chest. This was dangerous territory, opening himself up to someone after years of keeping everyone at arm's length. But with Cadie, the risk felt worth taking.
"We should go inside," Cadie said, though she made no move to leave.
Barrett whispered, "We should." Then he kissed her again, softer this time, offering a promise of what might come.
When they finally got out of the car and walked into the hotel, Barrett grasped her hand. His fingers intertwined with hers.
At the door to her room, Cadie looked up at him. "Good night, Barrett."
He kissed her once more, a lingering kiss that left him reluctant to part from her. But then she slipped inside her room, so he walked down the hall to his own. His heart felt lighter than it had in years.
Maybe second chances were possible after all.