by Anne McClane
She couldn’t decide if she was disappointed or relieved. She approached the counter and asked the bright young face for a cup of coffee.
“Nothing to eat, ma’am?”
It had been several hours since lunch at the hibachi restaurant with her parents, and the menu options looked amazing. But Lacey didn’t want to be caught stuffing her face when Nathan came in. It was not the look she was going for.
“No, thank you.”
“Sit wherever you like, ma’am, we’ll bring the coffee out to you.”
Lacey picked a corner diagonally opposite to the student debate team. She could see people come through the door, but was partially hidden by the pastry case.
Bright Young Face brought her coffee over.
“I just realized I didn’t pay you,” Lacey said.
“We’ll bring you a bill before you leave.” The young face grew brighter with a smile, and returned to the counter.
Lacey sipped the coffee and pulled out her phone. No messages from Nathan. No messages from anyone.
She felt foolish and lonely. She regretted reaching out to Nathan in the first place. And with the court date for The Weasel looming for sometime in the next few months, all the circumstances of their fraught relationship seemed just so damn messy.
But she couldn’t stop thinking of him. There was too much unfinished between them. And her dalliance with Trevor had only made her realize that she longed for something more permanent. And she thought, there was the potential, the seed, of something more permanent with Nathan. She knew it made no logical sense. He was still married. But, try as she might, she couldn’t get her heart to follow her brain.
She was wallowing in self-pity, vacillating between reaching out to Nathan to find out if he was still coming, or just getting up and walking out. She would leave a few bucks on the table for the coffee.
She was staring at her phone and didn’t realize someone was standing in front of her table. No one had entered from outside, she was sure of it. Lacey looked up and saw a woman, blonde hair cut in a bob, with a yellow chef’s coat. With the warm smile on her face, Lacey couldn’t help but think of sunshine.
Sunshine Chef held a pastry on plate. “It’s pain au chocolat, a new recipe for me,” she said to Lacey. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind being a taste tester.”
Lacey looked to her side, wondering why this stranger was approaching her, but remembered her manners. When someone who appears to be the owner of restaurant offers you food, you don’t decline. Especially when that food is a pastry.
“Of course, thank you so much.”
Sunshine Chef sat in the chair opposite Lacey. “Do you mind?”
“Of course not. Please.” She stared at the pastry. It glistened with butter, and a rivulet of chocolate escaped from one end, along with a bit of steam.
“We’re still working on it, the chocolate shouldn’t run like that. But I think everything else has come together nicely.”
She seemed like she was waiting for Lacey to taste it, so she obliged. It saved her from having to find something to say. She burnt the tip of her tongue, but the pain was quickly overcome by the delicate mixture of flavors. It was a pretty amazing pastry.
Her mouth was full when Sunshine Chef slid a piece of paper, folded over with “Lacey” written in cursive at the center. “I have something else for you. Nathan asked that I give this to you.”
Lacey covered her mouth and hurried to swallow. Her stomach had leapt into her throat at the mention of Nathan’s name. It made swallowing a challenge.
“Oh,” she said, mouth still partially full. “Are you, um, friends with Nathan?”
And if so, could you tell me why in hell he left a letter instead of meeting in person?
The sunshine smile returned. “Not good friends, no. I’ve known him for a little while, since he helped me close this deal. When I bought this place.” She gestured her hand around the bright bakery.
Lacey was relieved that she wasn’t a paramour of Nathan’s. Though she still could be, but Lacey didn’t get that vibe. Friendly business associate rang true. She kicked herself for thinking so much about it. And she remembered her manners again.
“Your place is really lovely, I’m so glad I made it down here. And this pain au chocolat . . . wow.”
“Glad you like it.” She rose from her chair. “I need to get back to the kitchen. Take your time, sweetie.”
Lacey smiled up at her and thanked her again. Then turned her attention to the piece of paper on the table. Everything else faded around it. It almost glowed. Nathan’s script was very pretty, almost feminine. At least he had remembered the “e” in Lacey.
She contemplated crumpling it up and stashing it in her purse. No, throwing it away with a flourish, right here in the Bywater Bakery. No, even better, leaving it right where it was on the table, so that Sunshine Chef could tell Nathan how she walked right out of this bakery without even so much as a look back at his lame note.
But the need for instant gratification got the best of her. She slid it from the table, surreptitiously, casually. She hoped no one could see how much her hand was shaking.
She pressed herself against the back of her chair, trying to become small and invisible. She opened it and blurred her eyes, so she couldn’t make out words at first. All she saw was a page full of pretty cursive, smaller than her name on the front.
Finally, she took a deep breath and focused her vision.
Lacey,
I know this is a chicken shit thing to do. With all you’ve done for me, and I can’t even work up the nerve to see you face-to-face. Though that is the one thing I really long for most in this world. To see you again.
But that’s why I have to settle for this note. I’m afraid of what would happen if I saw you. Because I’ve decided to try to work it out with Lisa. We’ve spent a little time together with the kids. We’ve both realized how much better we are as a family, maybe more than as a couple. I don’t know if that makes sense. But when I think of being someone worthy, someone worthy of saving, I think I need to be a better father.
You deserve to be with someone who isn’t as mixed up as I am. I know that sounds chicken shit, and I think I know how you’ll react when I say this: not seeing you hurts me more than you’ll ever know. It’s a pain worse than what lingers from those injuries you healed. I know you won’t believe me when I say that. But what you believe doesn’t matter. Because it’s the truth.
I don’t know how to end this, so I’ll just repeat more words that I know you don’t believe: I love you. But what you believe doesn’t matter. Because it’s the truth.
Nathan
Lacey wanted to crumple the note and toss it across the lovely, bright bakery. No, she wished she smoked, because she’d take her lighter and set it aflame. Instead, she refolded the note, ever so tenderly, and tucked it into her purse. She stared, stunned. Her eyes felt full, but the tears wouldn’t fall.
She felt sick, and the air in her quiet corner felt too close. She looked at her coffee mug and pushed up out of her seat, remembering she needed to pay. Sunshine Chef had replaced Bright Young Face behind the counter.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetie. It’s on the house.” Her look was sympathetic, and saved Lacey the effort of trying to fake sounding upbeat.
For an instant, Lacey wondered if Sunshine Chef’s understanding look meant she had read the letter. But the suspicion disappeared just as quickly as it came. She got the vibe that Sunshine Chef implicitly understood the effects of hand-written notes, fraught encounters, and dashed expectations.
“Thank you,” Lacey said. “And the chocolate croissant was amazing, too.”
“Even with the runny chocolate?” Sunshine Chef winked.
Lacey nodded. She whispered, “Thanks again,” and scurried out the front door. The sound of the words “runny chocolate” struc
k some unseen chord and busted the dam that had been holding back her tears. Rivulets streamed down her face as she rushed to her rental car.
30
The New Orleans Healing Center would have to wait. She needed a good cry, and she wanted to be home. Lacey just prayed Tonti wouldn’t be there.
She had been when Lacey arrived in the wee hours of Friday morning. It was surreal, returning home for the first time in more than a month, and hearing the television blaring loud from two rooms away. The other strange thing—Ambrose wasn’t there. It didn’t feel right to walk through the side door and not hear Ambrose running to greet her.
Lacey had prayed that it was Tonti who had turned on the television. And not a poltergeist who had taken up residence while she was away. She didn’t know what to expect in this new world of supernatural abilities.
She’d set her bag down in the laundry room and tip-toed into the living room. Sure enough, Tonti was sprawled out on the sectional sofa, mouth agape, snoring loudly. A bottle of Blanton’s was open on the bar, and a half-full tumbler, clearish-brown from all the melted ice, sat on a coaster on the side table.
Lacey had never seen Tonti drink bourbon.
Nor had she ever seen her sleeping. Even in repose she was formidable. She took up the entire longer section of the sofa, and one arm, splayed across the “L”, took up half of it.
Lacey couldn’t help but smile, despite being so travel weary. While it had taken some cajoling to get her parents to agree to meet her for Mr. Bob’s funeral, here was Tonti, waiting to greet her after her long journey. At least, she’d assumed that was Tonti’s intention.
It had taken several attempts to rouse her. When she’d awakened, it was the first time Lacey had seen Tonti appear vulnerable. She’d blinked and rubbed her eyes and said, “I need to call Hines.” Her on-call and long-suffering driver.
“I can call you a cab or an Uber,” Lacey had offered.
“No! Hines hates it when I talk about that. I guess I must pay him better.”
Lacey had been too tired to make any sense of Tonti’s words.
“Okay, where’s your phone?”
“Oh, I wanted to visit with you. There’s so much to tell you. Greg got engaged, they’ve rerouted the trains, the vacant lot next door sold.” Tonti pushed herself up to seated.
Lacey could only laugh. “That’s a lot of information, Tonti. And big news about Greg . . . wow . . . we definitely need to catch up.”
Lacey had recalled Tonti telling her about her youngest son’s new girlfriend on a phone call. She thought Tonti liked her. Maybe Greg wanted to act before his mother’s tides changed.
Tonti had sat, dazed, still half asleep.
“Can you meet on Saturday?” Lacey asked. “Maybe lunch or dinner?”
“Yes, yes, splendid idea. Brunch on Saturday. I’ll come pick you up. Could you hand me my phone, child? I think I left it on the bar.”
They hadn’t said much else, or at least, Lacey didn’t remember if they did. She was pretty brain dead after her travel. She was sure she would get the complete rundown, and then some, when she met Tonti tomorrow.
But for now, she was relieved to find her home empty. Late afternoon sun slanted through the front windows, highlighting lines of dust and dander. Even with Ambrose absent, you couldn’t keep telltale signs of him from settling into the farthest corners. A faint musty smell pervaded the entire house. It made Lacey sad to think of her house vacant. Even with Tonti to bring occasional bouts of activity in her absence, it wasn’t enough to breach the emptiness.
She intended to grab the bottle of Blanton’s she had replaced on the shelf after Tonti left last night, but she never made it that far. Fixated on the emptiness, she tossed her purse to the couch and hurled herself after it. She collapsed face forward, producing great gulping sobs into her folded arms.
Some small voice kept telling her she shouldn’t be so upset about Nathan’s note, but that only made her cry harder. In all her reveries about returning to New Orleans and beginning an auspicious career as a supernatural first responder, Nathan had existed as a great potential possibility. Not a foregone conclusion by any means. There were too many questions about his family, the state of his unraveling marriage, the nature of his relationship with Lacey. But she realized she had wanted to tackle all those issues, and—if his marriage was going to dissolve—to find out just what she and Nathan could be. His stupid note removed all those issues. There was nothing left to negotiate.
She cried until there was nothing left.
Saturday morning, Lacey’s head still hurt from crying. She went for a run, choosing a direction to purposefully avoid her nosy neighbor. She knew he knew she was home, but wasn’t ready to deal with him. She wanted to find out what Tonti knew about the sale of the vacant lot before she faced Mr. Max. AKA Kravitz.
She tried to focus on what she would have to look forward to when she returned for good. There was Kravitz. Not so much to look forward to, but at least a constant. There would be classes at Delgado. Fond memories of LSU, all interlaced with memories of Fox, came into her mind. She was older now. But was she wiser? Was she any more discerning, or would she go into her classes at Delgado with the same wide-eyed naivety that marked her time at LSU?
And there was Trevor. Would she see him anymore once she was back in New Orleans permanently? Maybe his musician’s schedule made him more available to travel. But had their time together run out? Thinking of what she didn’t have with Trevor made her think of what she wanted to have with Nathan, so she tried to stop thinking of them at all.
Focus on your future. And quit focusing on feeling so empty. Maybe that’s a good thing.
Eli. Eli would probably tell her to embrace the emptiness.
Trying to focus on the benefits of being empty, thoughts of her vision at Sycamore Mineral Springs began creeping in. She passed a neighbor she didn’t know as he got into his car. He wore a navy blue blazer with a crest. She would swear he glared at her before he drove off.
Stepping off the curb, about to cross Marconi Drive to get to the park, a speeding truck appeared under the overpass. She jumped back before it clipped her. The driver shouted something unintelligible from his open window.
She suddenly didn’t feel like running anymore.
She turned around and tried not to chastise herself. Up until now, the news about Angele’s dad, and her ulterior motives during her visit home, had crowded out creepy thoughts about Gus Savin. But some part of her knew getting to its meaning was more important than her broken heart.
Good thing she would see Tonti in a few hours.
Lacey felt a slight flash of deja vu when Hines dropped her and Tonti off at Katie’s. Had it really been just two months since they were there together last? It felt like a lifetime.
A crowd of people milled about outside in the sweltering heat. Lacey wondered how long they’d have to wait.
Tonti breezed up to the host stand, said a few low words to the host, and she grabbed Lacey’s arm as the host led them through the restaurant to a set of stairs. Lacey followed Tonti as she labored up the steps.
“When is Scot going to fix that elevator, dear?” she said to the host.
“But Miss Evangeline, it works, you just said . . . ”
“Oh, I know dear, I said I wanted to get my exercise. Won’t be the first thing I’ve said that I regret.”
Lacey made a mental note to use the elevator on their way out.
They were led to a secluded table in a corner. The host pulled out the chair for Tonti and she made a mini production of sitting down. Lacey sat herself and peered out the bright second-story window. It offered a view of shotgun rooftops and converted law offices. Lacey sneezed and it echoed throughout the empty, spacious room.
“I’ll be back with your drinks,” the host said.
Lacey wondered what Tonti had conjured up
for them. “Tonti,” she asked, “why are we the only ones up here? There’s a crowd of people waiting downstairs.”
“This room’s only open for dinner, child.”
Lacey shook her head. “You never cease to amaze me.”
The host didn’t return, but a tall blonde woman entered with a bottle and an ice bucket for chilling.
“Oh, Elizabeth! Look at you, how splendid. And it is the California sparkling, right? My dearest niece here has spent the last month on the Central Coast of California. We need to commemorate that.”
Lacey tried to smile. It’s a nice thought, at least.
Tonti spent the next forty-five minutes debriefing Lacey on Greg’s engagement, the wedding date (it wouldn’t be for another year and a half), and the places his fiancée Kelly should shop for the dress. Tonti spent at least twelve of those minutes discussing how the wedding would not be during Lent, how she was concerned when they chose a February date, but her research indicated that Mardi Gras would be late that year. And the next twelve minutes complaining that they didn’t think it through, because they’ll be competing for venues and caterers with all the Mardi Gras balls.
She only spent half that time delivering the neighborhood scoop. How she thought the house that would go up on the vacant lot between Lacey’s house and Kravitz’s would be a two-story, and how the couple building it were retired or near to it with no kids. Tonti speculated that Lacey’s privacy would be much enhanced by the addition to the neighborhood, but that the unsuspecting new couple had no idea what they were in for with Kravitz.
They had finished their meals and Tonti had requested another bottle of sparkling wine when she said, “Well, tell me all about California, child! You haven’t said boo about it, and you mentioned you’ve been seeing someone, and I want to hear all about your fella.”
