I don’t think I can, he thought, but then he did, because Catherine believed in him, not only in this moment where he was reduced to contrition, but in every moment. She looped her arm through his, and his hand came to a rest on her arm, where he wanted to run his fingers over the soft, blond down, but didn’t, because that might be the end of things with Colin.
“What happened yesterday?” she asked as she navigated him through the carnage of last night’s shenanigans. That she asked… that she knew this had not been just a party, just a release…
Charles swallowed the lump, this one newer, not from the night before. But it was there last night, because it was always there, his constant companion. His reminder.
Look at our mother! Look at that gray! That’s you, Maddy! You! You stupid, ungrateful bitch, you are sending our mother to an early grave!
“I saw on the news…” Charles grimaced as his foot came in contact with an empty beer keg. “They passed an amendment yesterday.”
“Yes, the twenty-sixth. Lowering the voting age to eighteen.” When Charles stumbled again, Catherine shot Colin a look. He grumbled and came to help. She rewarded him with a kiss.
“Yeah,” Charles said. “That one.”
“It’s great news,” Catherine said.
“Great news,” Charles repeated. “Would be a lot fucking greater if Maddy had lived to see the thing she worked so hard for.”
“Come on,” Colin said, but the sting was missing now. “We’ll grab coffee at Café du Monde.”
“Maybe we skip the beignets, in case Charles tries to inhale the sugar,” Catherine said with a sweet laugh and a squeeze to Charles’ arm that sent his heartrate to the moon.
* * *
Augustus tripped over the stack of insulation half-blocking the narrow hall leading to the bathroom. It hadn’t been there earlier, and he’d been carefully navigating in the dark since last night while the electricians worked on wiring. He shouldn’t be working through the construction. It was a hazard. But who was going to complain? He was the owner and, on paper at least, the sole employee of Deschanel Media. It wasn’t like he was going to sue himself.
“Who ordered a lifetime supply of cotton candy?” Evangeline appeared at his side, smacking her bubble gum.
“It’s insulation. Helps with regulating heat and cold.”
“Isn’t that what our air conditioner and heater do?”
“You’re the genius. Go research it.”
“Don’t tempt me. That’s my kryptonite, brother.”
Augustus frowned at the obstruction. An office under construction was one always in flux, but he regarded the bright pink stack with undisguised hostility even he didn’t quite understand. “You can go home if you want. There’s not much for you to do until the printing press comes in.”
Evangeline scoffed. “I’ve saved you thousands on cleaning costs. I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty. Want me to take a shot at installing the insulation?”
“Thanks, but no. We’ll leave that to the professionals.”
She flexed, though her thick camo jacket didn’t budge at all. “If there’s a book on it, I can be an expert in no time.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Augustus replied, still frowning. He didn’t know why the insulation agitated him so, when cables hung from open ceilings and half the floor was an obstacle course of materials and hardware. But the glaring bismuth pink challenged him, taunting. Daring.
“When is the printing press coming in?”
Augustus stepped over a toolbox and leaned into the wall calendar. “A week from tomorrow.”
“That’s when you’ll start hiring people? Writers?”
“I can’t hire until the construction is done. Or at least, until the ceiling panels are closed up and the HVAC is in.”
Evangeline looked around. “That’s weeks, maybe months away.”
“I have phone numbers for the writers I want in the first edition. Don’t worry, we’ll have Deschanel Magazine out by fall.” He checked the clock. It was close to suppertime, and he’d skipped evening meal at his mother’s three nights in a row. A fourth wouldn’t be forgiven. “Why don’t you take the streetcar home and I’ll meet you in a couple hours?”
“Nah. I’ll wait for you to drive me.”
His mouth curled. Not quite a smile. “Lazy.”
“No, I just prefer not to see Mama go nuclear when you miss dinner again. You’re not the one who has to see her. It’s terrible. She sprouts horns just above her judgmental eyebrows, and fire shoots out of her—”
“Yeah, okay, Evie. I get it. I’ll be there. I promise.”
“Just the same, I’ll be your escort.”
Augustus sighed. “All right, then. You wanna check and see if the shipment of bathroom supplies arrived downstairs?”
Evangeline grinned. “Roger. I’m tired of wiping my ass with newspapers, too.” She skipped away and then turned back to add, “Get it? A magazine, wiping their ass with newspapers?”
Augustus blinked.
“You know, it’s a metaphor for—”
“Supplies, Evie.”
“Right.” She skittered off toward the stairs.
* * *
Augustus hadn’t asked Evangeline for help with his business venture. He hadn’t asked anyone, and the lack of asking wasn’t unintentional. Deschanel Media was his baby. Born into his imagination when he wasn’t even ten, and now coming to a life. A way for him to be his own man, separate of his family. The business had unlimited potential, but his pet project was a magazine that catered to not only the wealthy of New Orleans, but also the artists who might one day be discovered and change literary history. To give them a platform for their voice and access to the patrons who could help them find their futures.
This last part of his dream was the piece he kept to himself. It went over better with his friends and family to simply say he wanted to publish a magazine for New Orleans. That they understood. The rest, they never would.
When Evangeline told Mama she was taking a year off before college, it went over like a skydiving walrus. Irish Colleen had a staunchly single-minded view of college. It didn’t matter what her children wanted. College was not negotiable, and it was the only path, as she saw it, to any future whatsoever. It was the magic that created futures, and without it, nothing was possible but darkness and despair. For Evangeline, easily the smartest of the seven, the only one who’d ever been skipped ahead in school, to declare herself weary of it was too much for their mother to handle.
But Evangeline had stated quite clearly that her brother needed help, and she was going to help him.
Augustus could have put a stop to it then, with only a few words. He almost did. For Evangeline’s sake, but also, his own need to be alone. To do this himself. But what began as a mild annoyance had turned into genuine help. She had, as she said, saved him thousands in cleaning costs, but she’d done so much more. She was a workhorse, and she asked nothing in return, not even companionship, which was good, seeing as he had none to offer.
There was this other thing between them. Something neither put voice to but hung unspoken in the office and in the spaces connecting every word they shared. They’d been complicit in sending Madeline off that night. Both kissed her goodbye, understanding she couldn’t stay, knowing the risks in letting her go. Evangeline was the only one who could relate to the guilt that pushed him forward, farther away from the man he was two years ago.
That was, he supposed, the real reason he couldn’t deny her the break. She needed to be useful, and to do it for and with someone who understood her inherent motivation.
Evangeline came flying down the hall, her boots echoing across the bare concrete. “Danger! Red alert! Jettison fuel!”
“What are you on about? Where are the supplies?”
She doubled over, panting, when she came to a halt. “Carolina. Downstairs. Coming up. Couldn’t stop it.”
Augustus exhaled. He didn’t understand where this interest from Ca
rolina had come from, or why. It seemed to come out of nowhere and overnight turned into a full-blown campaign for his attention. “Okay. Thanks.”
Carolina Percy sauntered down the hall in her miniskirt and knee-highs, blond hair flowing down out of a headband, the curling ends tickling her small waist.
She was a vision. On some level, Augustus knew this, but he’d descended the levels to one more suitable to his frame of mind, and on this one, she was only Colleen’s silly friend.
It was then he noticed the paper bag in her hand.
“Wow, the office is really coming along!” she exclaimed. “Only thing missing is a woman’s touch.”
Evangeline cleared her throat.
“Can I help you with something?” Augustus managed the words, which weren’t as friendly as they should have been, but they were at least in the neighborhood, and that was progress.
“I was hoping I might help you.” Carolina’s smile lit up the room. It was out of place, like she was. She reached into the bag. Out came a wooden sign, and as Carolina handed it to Augustus, Evangeline read the words aloud.
“Love is the answer. What was the question?” With growing bemusement, Evangeline turned to her brother. “Oh, yeah. That’s Augustus all right.”
Carolina missed the sarcasm. “Do you like it?”
“It’s, uh, really nice, Carolina, thank you.”
“I’ll hang it on the wall across from his desk,” Evangeline teased. “So every time he looks up, he’ll be overcome.”
Carolina smiled, nodding. “Groovy.”
Augustus lifted the sign and forced a smile. “Thanks, Carolina. Really.”
“So…” She looped her hands together and rocked on the balls of her feet. “Do you think you can take a break for dinner?”
“It is dinnertime. A man needs to eat,” Evangeline pointed out, and Augustus vowed to kill her.
“I am taking a break for dinner tonight,” he said, firing a sideways glare at his incorrigible sibling. “But as my sister reminded me, I haven’t been home to see my mother in four days, and she’ll be expecting me.”
Carolina’s face fell, but she recovered with a big, beaming smile, brighter than all the ones before. “Aw. Well, that’s very sweet of you, Augustus. I’m sure your mother appreciates what a loving son you are.”
“A perfect gentleman,” Evangeline quipped. “Our living proof chivalry marches on.”
“You’re putting in a lot of hours,” Carolina said, ignoring Evangeline altogether. “I hope you’re taking breaks.”
“When I need them.”
“Why, tomorrow he’ll be taking a lunch break. You should come by then!” Evangeline suggested.
“Yeah?” Carolina brightened. “Sure, okay. I will.” She waved at them both. “See you then!”
As she walked away, Augustus spun on his sister. “What are you trying to do?”
“Get you laid?”
“I’m serious. What’s gotten into you?”
“She likes you, Aggie. She always has.”
“What are you talking about? I barely know her, except as Colleen’s friend.”
Evangeline pulled the sign from his hands and set it on an empty file cabinet. “You get all twisted about a pile of insulation where it’s not supposed to be, but wouldn’t know flirting if it slapped you upside the head. She’s loved you for years. Colleen used to think she only came around for a chance at time with you.”
Augustus shook his head. “That’s crazy.”
Evangeline laughed. “I don’t know what she sees in you, either!”
Augustus glowered.
“I don’t know why you’re so bent out of shape. She’s short of a few screws, but she’s a fox, Aggie. If I hadn’t been standing here, she would’ve bent herself over that desk—”
“Stop. I mean it.” He stretched his arms over his head. “Isn’t she with Rory Sullivan, anyway?”
“Who knows? Their relationship is more complicated than quantum mechanics. Probably doesn’t help that he’s still got the hots for Colleen.”
Augustus didn’t want to think about this anymore. If he politely rebuffed Carolina’s continued advances, she’d eventually lose interest. He wouldn’t give it another thought.
But he was lost for anything useful after that strange interruption, so he told Evangeline to grab her backpack and get ready to go.
“Nah, I’m gonna beat feet and catch some of my friends at Preservation Hall before the line gets too long.”
“I thought you were escorting me to dinner?”
Evangeline heaved her backpack over one shoulder. “I’m sufficiently convinced you’ll do the right thing on your own.”
It wasn’t his place to scold her, or tell her what to do with her life. But he’d heard rumors about the company his sister was keeping… ones he’d kept to himself, lest Charles go ape, as Madeline used to say. It was better to monitor the situation himself and keep it contained.
“Be careful,” he said.
“Careful?”
“Yeah. Careful.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, as she worked to tuck her wild curls into a rubber band. It snapped against the pressure, and she winced and cursed.
“Nothing. I’ve heard… things, about some of your friends.”
“Aggie, come on, I’m not like…” She stopped herself, wearing a mask of horror. She quickly moved closer and squeezed his cheeks between her fingers. “You’re the one Mama is worried about. All these hours. Might think about lying and telling her you’re with a woman. She’d be a lot less concerned if she didn’t know you were sleeping here.”
Evangeline skipped off.
Two
A Curse by Any Other Name
The Deschanel Magi Collective Council finished the recitation of the ceremonial vows and Ophelia called the meeting to order.
“Before we explore official business, I wish to welcome our dearest Kitty Guidry to the mystifying world of adulthood,” Ophelia said. Her gnarled hand trembled from beneath her red velvet robe as she placed it over Kitty’s. “Happy birthday, dear.”
“Happy birthday, darling,” Pierce said.
Kitty smiled at the old woman. “Thank you, Tante. And you, too, Daddy.”
“Well, then.” Ophelia settled her hands back into her lap. “We’ve been fortunate, you know. We live in a period of relative peace for the Deschanels. None of you were alive the last time the Deschanel Curse swept through our ranks. When my brother, Charles, lost three of his children at the turn of the century.”
“Why do we have to call it that? The Deschanel Curse? It sounds so archaic,” winsome Claudius Broussard asked. Earlier, during vows, Colleen had caught him checking his hair in the reflection of the silver decanter. He’d never met another he couldn’t charm, organic or not.
“A curse by any other name is still a curse,” said Pierce Guidry. He knew. He’d heard the stories from their mother, Blanche, before she’d stopped talking about the past. Back when she still came to Council meetings. Cassius, Pierce’s half-brother, had experienced a much different childhood than his older half-siblings.
“We don’t mince words in here,” Ophelia warned the room. “Nor do we suffer fools.”
“Sorry, Tante.” Cassius looked down.
Colleen had a flash of empathy for her cousin. Don’t feel bad. Not even you can charm the woman who sees all.
“This family is cursed. Your lack of occasion to bear witness does not change the facts,” she went on. “We have only two pieces of housekeeping to review, and then we’ll discuss the news we’ve received from France.” She turned to Kitty. “Review the ledger, please.”
“We have a need for a volunteer this summer. Want me to read the details?”
“Yes, child,” Ophelia urged.
“Colleen has performed a ton of organization for the Collective over the past two years, when she’s not in class, which has revealed we have a need for far more,” Kitty read. She smiled at Colleen. �
��I know Colleen would say she doesn’t need help, but our archives are large, and the organization has helped us locate old files and stories we’d all but given up on.”
Kitty was right, Colleen didn’t want the help. Buried in curling parchment and the dusty consolation of the old vault, surrounded by the infinite quiet of a place largely untouched by life, was her only comfort. She went from class to the vault, over and over, falling into her bed exhausted at the end of each day. Her brain stayed focused only on these specific things she’d allowed inside. Her mind had always been a series of compartments, and as long as she kept some of them filled, the others stopped calling to her.
“I’ll help,” Pansy said. “Placide won’t let me lift a finger at home now, on account of the baby. He’ll be happy to see me fixing after paperwork instead.”
The summer prior, Pansy had married a Cajun man from Breaux Bridge who treated her like a princess. He was twice her age and balked at the money he married into. But Pansy was accustomed to a very specific life, and to hold onto her, he’d grudgingly moved into the mansion she inherited as part of her Deschanel estate entitlement. He drew the line at her notions of doing anything more strenuous than raising their children. Rex, she said. Pansy was quite positive the child was a boy, despite that no tests had even confirmed she was even with child yet, nor had the family healers felt comfortable providing confirmation.
“Thanks, Pansy,” she said. It was pointless to turn down the help. Ophelia knew Colleen didn’t need it in a practical sense, so she’d decided she needed it for other reasons.
“We’ll have ourselves some cousin time! We haven’t spent time together since we were kids, Colleen.”
“Has it been that long?” Colleen’s mind traveled elsewhere. It woke up next to Rory, as she had for night after night this past winter; first feeling as if she was exactly where she was meant to be, and later wishing she could take it all back, even the best parts. It considered increasing—again—her course load so she could start medical school faster and launch herself farther from a childhood that had never made sense to her like the adulthood beckoning in the distance. It regarded the rift between herself and all her siblings, but mostly Evangeline, whose absence had left a gap bigger than she could have ever anticipated. It remembered…
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