A Palette for Love

by Charlotte Greene

  By the time we left the final Quarter apartment on Chartres, my hopes of finding a place that day were beginning to wane. While I’d been game to look at places Uptown, I suddenly knew I didn’t really want to live up there. I’d always lived on the downriver side of Canal, and the idea of being so far from almost everyone I knew didn’t really appeal to me. It would be nice to be closer to Amelia, but I wasn’t necessarily ready to make that leap yet. In fact, as I’d thought about it more clearly, if I ever made the move Uptown, it would be to move in with her, and that was a while off yet. She’d hinted very obliquely yesterday that I should just wait a while before moving, as it would save the effort of moving again when we were ready to live together. Though Meghan and her boyfriend were already in the process of joining households, I’d never fancied myself as the type to make that choice lightly. It would take me more time to make that kind of commitment. Further, I was actually looking forward to having a place of my own and wanted it to be perfect for me.

  I’d arranged to meet Amelia at CC’s on Royal again so she could take us to the Uptown places, and as we walked over there, I thought about what kind of excuse I could make to avoid seeing any of them.

  Meghan must have sensed my reluctance, as she said, “If you saw something you like, you don’t have to look at the rest of the apartments you have lined up.”

  “It’s not that—I don’t think I could live in any of the places we’ve seen so far. It’s just that I’m not really interested in living Uptown. I thought I’d be okay with it, but I don’t really want to be that far away from Aunt Kate. Or you. Or all of this.” I gestured around me. “It almost doesn’t seem like New Orleans over there. That’s why I never wanted to live there when I was in college.”

  “So don’t bother looking! I’m beat anyway. You can always check the Bywater again next week. Maybe something new will turn up.”

  I shrugged. It was easy enough to make that decision now, but it would be hard to tell Amelia about it. She’d been very excited when I mentioned the Uptown apartments I was seeing.

  She was waiting with a cup of coffee when we got there, and we hugged quickly before I got in line. Meghan, somewhat reluctantly, sat down with Amelia to wait for me to get our coffee, and I glanced over at them a few times as I waited. Luckily they seemed to be making nice, and when I sat down with our coffee, neither of them seemed too uncomfortable.

  “Meghan was just telling me that she’s in a band,” Amelia said. “We both just realized that she knows my brother Michael.”

  “He’s an excellent drummer,” Meghan said. “I’ve heard good things about Jenna, too, but I haven’t had a chance to play with her.”

  “She’s wonderful,” Amelia said. “She mainly plays with one band, but I think she does the occasional set with different people.”

  “Tell her I’m interested,” Meghan said. “My bass player’s moving to San Francisco soon, so we’ll be looking to fill his shoes.”

  As they exchanged phone numbers and e-mail addresses, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was nice to know that the two could be pleasant to each other, even if it was, at this stage, only for my benefit. I felt very strongly about both of them and wouldn’t want to have to choose between them. Maybe they could become friendly, if not friends, with time.

  “So when’s your next appointment?” Amelia asked me when they were finished.

  “Not for over an hour yet. I thought the others would take longer, so we have some time to kill.”

  “I wonder if I could show you something,” Amelia said, looking mischievous. “It’s a place I know for rent that’s not far from here—maybe a five-minute walk.”

  “In the Quarter?” Meghan asked.

  “It’s right on Esplanade,” Amelia explained. Esplanade is the avenue that divides the Quarter from the Marigny, so it would be closer to my aunt’s house than the places we’d just visited.

  “I didn’t see a listing for it,” I said as we gathered our things.

  “It’s not listed in a lot of places,” Amelia said. She wouldn’t make eye contact with me. She seemed a little cagey, but I decided to play along with whatever she was hiding.

  It wasn’t as warm as it’d been at the party yesterday. A distinct chill in the air suggested that the famous warm New Orleans weather might be finally ready to take its two-month winter break. I’d worn a light jacket out of the house that morning and regretted not grabbing a heavier coat. Knowing that this time of year could occasionally bring snow or icy rain to Paris didn’t help—I’d already readjusted to the Southern climate of my childhood.

  We walked up Royal, and when we hit Esplanade, we crossed the street and turned right. Amelia stopped in front of a two-story Victorian house. I didn’t see any signs out front to suggest that this was anything but a single-family home or that it was available for rent. Only by looking closely at the house could I see two entrances, one at the front and one on the side. We followed Amelia up the front steps, and she removed a set of keys from her pocket to unlock the front door.

  “Why do you have keys?” I asked.

  “I’ll explain after you’ve looked around,” she said, not making eye contact.

  Meghan and I glanced at each other, shrugged, and started exploring. The ground floor was gorgeous, with dark wood floors. It had a small, lovely, old-fashioned kitchen with updated appliances and a tiny powder room near a small living room. I could already picture the loveseat I would place in the living room, and there was just enough room for a couple of bookcases and my reading chair. A steep staircase took us up to two small bedrooms, one at the front with tons of natural light and a smaller one in the back. In between the two bedrooms was a full bath that, I was amused to note, had, in addition to a toilet, a bidet.

  When we went back downstairs, Amelia was standing by the large front window in the living room, and she turned as we approached.

  “So what do you think?” she asked.

  “It’s incredible,” I said.

  Meghan agreed. “It’s the nicest apartment we’ve seen all day.”

  Amelia nodded, clearly unsurprised. “My father owns it. He owns a lot of properties around the city. This one actually hasn’t been listed yet. The tenants only moved out a couple of weeks ago, and he had to have some things fixed before renting it again.”

  That boded well for him as a landlord, but I wasn’t convinced yet. “Do you know how much it is?”

  Amelia shook her head. “I don’t think my father would know, to tell you the truth. He runs all his rentals through his rental agency, which is where you would pay your rent. But if I tell him you’re interested, he’ll hold it for you and get you the price tomorrow when they’re open. He might have an idea of how much it will be if I ask. Do you want me to?”

  Meghan and I shared a look. The idea of renting from her father didn’t bother me, particularly since I wouldn’t have to deal with him directly. Places like this were rare, and it would be foolish not to try. Still, I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

  “I’m a little afraid I won’t be able to afford it,” I said.

  “Well, let’s ask anyway.” Amelia pulled out her phone, and Meghan and I wandered back into the kitchen while she talked.

  “This place is a dream,” Meghan said, running her hand over the marble countertop.

  “Right? That front room upstairs would be perfect for a studio.”

  She snorted. “Only you would put your studio in the nicest room in the house.”

  I ignored her dig. “The living room down here is a little small, but it’s big enough to have a few people over. It’s not like I ever throw big parties or anything.”

  “And the kitchen is just large enough for a little table, right over there,” Meghan said, pointing.

  “Totally. There isn’t space for a big dining-room table, but if I had people over, we could sit around the coffee table, or I could get a folding table or something.”

  Amelia joined us and handed me a slip of paper. “That’s the
price he thinks it would be.”

  Meghan and I read the number, and she whistled. “Whew!” she said. “No wonder we never heard of this place. Luxury rental, I guess.”

  Heart sinking, I handed back the slip of paper. “That’s way too much for me, Amelia.”

  “How much can you spend?” she asked.

  I blushed, more than a little embarrassed to talk about money with her. “A little over half that.”

  Amelia looked startled and then crestfallen. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to show you something so far-fetched. That was stupid of me.”

  “Don’t worry about it!” I gave her a quick hug. “It was nice to actually see inside one of these places. I’ve walked by the houses on this street a thousand times and have always wondered what they were like inside.”

  “It really is beautiful,” Meghan said, likewise trying to reassure her.

  “Let me make it up to you both for wasting our time.” She was still looking a little upset. “Can I take you both to dinner later?”

  “I have to work, I’m afraid,” Meghan said.

  “And I wanted to paint tonight,” I added. “It is a work night, after all.”

  Amelia pulled me in for a kiss. “I think your boss would let you come in a little late tomorrow after all your hard work last week.”

  I kissed her back, and Meghan started making gagging noises. We laughed.

  “If you two don’t mind, I better head home now,” Meghan said, clearly embarrassed to be around us. “I want a couple of hours to myself before I have to go to that noisy bar. Sundays are almost as busy as Saturdays lately.” I knew she was making excuses to get away from us, or possibly just Amelia, but as she was already out the door before I thought to stop her, there was nothing I could do about it now.

  After she was gone, Amelia turned to me, pulling me closer again. “What about you, my sweet? Are you sure I can’t entice you to stay out?”

  I shrugged. “I was planning to see some places Uptown, but I’m too tired. I could call and cancel, and then we would have all afternoon for ourselves.”

  “That sounds lovely,” she said, and kissed me again.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The next two weeks passed in a blur, and before I knew it, it was Thanksgiving weekend and I still hadn’t found a suitable place to rent. Amelia gave everyone a half day on the Wednesday before the holiday, and we’d agreed to meet up to watch Meghan’s band play later that evening. I’d been at my new job for two months, and it was starting to feel like I could stay in it for the long haul. While I wasn’t ready to give up my dreams of working in academia, the thought of staying in my current position for a year or two was actually appealing. Between the variation in my day-to-day responsibilities and my constant contact with beautiful works of art, the job was challenging, interesting, and visually stimulating. The Cameron sale, as my project at Brent Cameron’s was now called, was bringing in a lot of revenue for us and for Amelia’s brother Bobby, who was now in charge of furnishing the house. Overall, I counted my time with the company so far as highly successful.

  Thanksgiving had caused some debate between Amelia and me, chief of which was where to eat dinner. Aunt Kate always put on a full Creole spread, and as I hadn’t been back in the States for Thanksgiving in several years, she was going all out. Amelia’s brother Bobby, on the other hand, had invited me for traditional American fare, boasting about his cooking acumen, as he’d apparently attended a culinary school for lessons over the summer. We’d decided to try to attend both dinners, as there was simply no way of bowing out of either, and both Aunt Kate and Bobby had accommodated our request by putting the meals a few hours apart. Still, the idea of eating two huge meals in one day was daunting, and I didn’t relish the idea of how nervous I would be at both of them, for different reasons.

  On Wednesday, when I got home from work, I immediately changed into my painting clothes. Between staying at Amelia’s house every other night and collapsing from exhaustion on the others, I’d barely had time to paint at all lately. I tried to squeeze in an hour or two every week, but even that didn’t always happen. Still, my new painting, the one inspired by the slave mural on the Winters Corporation building, had managed to hold my interest in a way few paintings had before. Usually if I put aside my work for too long, I couldn’t get back into it. Every time I worked on this one, though, it was like I’d never stopped.

  Aunt Kate had shouted something about going down to the docks for the seafood, but I was still surprised when I heard the doorbell ring several times until I remembered that no one was downstairs to answer it. Setting my brushes on the easel, I ran down and answered the door. Amelia was standing there, and she smiled when she saw my paint-spattered clothes. She carried a small overnight bag. Our dinner here tomorrow was going to be at noon, so we’d decided it would be easiest to have her stay over. It would be her first time here overnight, and we were both nervous about it.

  “Finally,” she said. “I thought I might have to break in.”

  “I’m sorry. I forgot Aunt Kate was gone. I should have left you a note.”

  “That’s okay.” She walked in and we kissed.

  “Let me change and we can head out. I don’t have time to do my hair or anything, but Mimi’s isn’t very fancy, so I don’t mind if you don’t.”

  “Why would I mind?” she asked, following me into my bedroom.

  “You’re just always so put-together.” I indicated her clothes and hair. “Even in my nice stuff, I still feel like your poor cousin when I’m with you.”

  She laughed. “You look fantastic anytime. Even now.” Her eyes darkened a little, and a flash of heat raced through me.

  I took a wary step away from her. “None of that, lady, or we’ll be even later than we are already.”

  She stepped closer to me. “Why, whatever do you mean, Doctor?”

  I shivered a little, her tone turning me on more than was warranted from the words themselves. We’d been so busy this week getting ready for the break that we hadn’t been together for a few days now, and my body seemed to want to remind me of this.

  “We could wait…” I said, sounding, even to myself, uncertain.

  “We could.” She took another step closer. “Or we could be quick about it.”

  I drew her quickly into my arms. She yipped in surprise, and I used the momentary break in her defenses to top her, pushing her onto my bed. She stared up at me as I surveyed her beneath me, her eyes dancing with merriment at my unusual aggressiveness. I reached down and yanked off her shirt in one long movement and, once it lay in a crumpled pile behind me, found that she was panting slightly from excitement. The rise and fall of her chest was making me excited too, and I lay myself on top of her, maneuvering her back onto my bed with my mouth. She let this go on for a while, even to the point of letting my hands rest farther up on her stomach than she’d allowed before. Another inch or two, I realized, and I would be touching her bra. I could feel her desire thrumming beneath my fingers as she trembled under me and had a momentary feeling of hope that her desire might lead somewhere further.

  Almost as if sensing my resolve to do something, she suddenly stiffened under my hands. Soon her hands were moving mine down and away, and she was flipping me onto my back. She shoved my legs apart and settled down between them, her actions seeming almost angry in their haste. She had my pants and underwear off a moment later, and she began licking and sucking at the wetness between my legs. I was already so turned on that I began bucking my hips against her soft, warm mouth after only a second or two. Still sucking on my clit, she slipped her fingers inside my wetness, quickly, hard. She curled them inside me and, frustrated by days apart from her as well as by her tantalizing desire moments before, no sooner had she moved her fingers inside me than I was slipping over the edge, calling out her name incoherently.

  Cradled in her arms on my small bed moments later, I felt a fleeting sense of complete fulfillment before the nagging worry that had plagued the last
three weeks marred my contentment. While she’d explained her problem to me, it was no less mysterious now than it had been when she told me about it. Her behavior showed me that she desired me, and the way her body responded made me believe that she liked touching me and being touched, to a degree. Nothing in her body language gave a clear impression that she didn’t want me to do so until I tried, and I’d been trying.

  She’d allowed me to touch some places, but others she didn’t, and the line between them was still very vague. We needed to talk about it again, soon, but the idea of spoiling what we had now intimidated me. I didn’t know how far I could go before she’d start drawing away from me again, and the memory of the last time we’d fought about it haunted me. What we had, even if it wasn’t entirely what I wanted, was very good. But how could it be enough for her? That question troubled me and made it hard for me to accept the good parts of our relationship.

  I finally made myself sit up and scoot out of her arms. She lay there, watching me dress, eyes still dark and hooded with desire. Just seeing her there, her shirt off, her hair in disarray, was almost enough to make me want to jump back into bed with her again, so I forced myself to look somewhere else as I finished. I ran a quick comb through my hair and wiped away my smeary eye makeup, and by the time I was ready, Amelia had put herself back into a semblance of order. Anyone studying her could see that something had ruffled her a little, but she looked, to an untrained eye, fairly put-together. She loosened her hair and then pulled it up into a bun again, securing it with a wooden black clip.

  “Are you ready?” I asked.

  “Yes.” She sighed, looking back at the bed.

  “If we leave now, we’ll be just in time for the second set.” I tried to keep the impatience out of my voice. Meghan was going to kill me.