“Hmm…” She flashed a small, unconvincing smile. “Do you ladies like art?”
“Sure we do.” Trish clutched her arm and cast her a sideways glance, curling her lip with a what is this crazy lady talking about now? look.
“Come with me. I want to show you the piece that was donated to our cause tonight.” Madeline turned and motioned for them to follow, her tentacles swishing as she sashayed through the crowd.
Emily looked at Trish and shrugged. Madeline was supposed to be the best real estate agent in New Orleans and the go-to person for anything and everything social. She seemed to know everyone…and their business. She’d already offered to play matchmaker for Emily on several occasions, and it wouldn’t have surprised her if Madeline knew the mystery man’s identity.
But Emily didn’t need to know. She wanted to, but she certainly didn’t need to.
Madeline gestured to a large charcoal portrait. “The hotel paid five thousand dollars for it, and the artist generously donated the proceeds to our charity. What do you think?”
Two children in period clothing sat on the grand staircase in the portrait. The girl’s blonde ringlets hung down to her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled with mischief. The boy was younger, and he clutched the girl’s arm and angled his chin down in a timid smile.
“Five thousand dollars?” Emily stepped closer to examine it. The artist definitely had talent. Each stroke of charcoal was precisely placed, creating an exquisitely realistic image. The artist had captured the children’s personalities on paper as if he knew them personally. “It’s a beautiful drawing. Who are the children?”
Madeline smiled wistfully at the portrait. “Their names are Alice and Jonathan. No one knows where they came from or why they’re still here.”
“Still here? Are they orphans?”
“No. They’re ghosts.”
Emily scoffed and stepped away from the picture. “There is no such thing.”
Trish grimaced. “That’s a touchy subject, Em. New Orleanians take their spirits very seriously.”
“You live in the most haunted city in the country,” Madeline said. “If you aren’t a believer yet, you will be.”
A pang shot through her chest, and she had to force a whisper over the lump in her throat. “The belief in spirits isn’t logical, and it does more harm than good.”
Madeline clasped her hands in front of her. “It sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
“I…” She inhaled deeply and let her breath out slowly. No matter how much she liked the woman, she wasn’t about to share the pain the so-called spirit world had brought into her life. Better to walk away now than get involved in a useless conversation. “It was a lovely party, Madeline. Thank you for inviting me. I should be going, though. I have a long day at work tomorrow.”
“Of course. I’m so glad you made it.”
Hiking up her skirt, she hurried toward the exit. Ghosts weren’t real; she’d convinced herself of that a long time ago. She’d tried to convince her sister too, but Jessica’s obsession with the spirit world ended up killing her. No one could see ghosts, and Emily would make damn sure she didn’t get involved with anyone who thought they could. Whoever made that portrait was a scam artist; there was no other explanation.
“Emily.” Trish rushed to her side and followed her toward the door. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I think I’m going to head home though. I have to work in the morning.”
She let out a heavy sigh. “I know you don’t want to believe in ghosts—”
“I can’t, Trish.”
“I know. But most of the people in this city do, and you’re going to run into it all over the place. Just about every building in the French Quarter has a story about a haunting, and lots of people pay to hear about them. It’s big money here, so you’re going to have to learn to take it all with a grain of salt.”
“I know. And you warned me about it before I moved here.” She shook her head. “I should’ve taken that job in Dallas.”
Trish pursed her lips. “Dallas is far less exciting than New Orleans.”
“With far fewer believers in the paranormal.”
“Maybe so, but your BFF doesn’t live in Dallas, does she?”
“No, you don’t.” And the fact that her childhood best friend lived here did tip the scales in New Orleans’ favor. She’d have been completely alone if she’d gone to Dallas, her life even more boring than it already was. If that were possible.
“Don’t act like you regret moving here. If you’ll just get out and explore, I’m sure you’ll fall in love with this city like I did. Give it a chance.”
“You’re right. This was my first encounter with a believer. I guess it caught me off guard.”
Trish shrugged. “And it probably won’t come up that often if this was the first time in three months. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to learn about the legends. At least you won’t be so shocked next time it happens.”
“I’ll think about it.” Listening to a bunch of ghost stories was the last thing she wanted to do. Ghosts were nothing more than products of people’s overactive imaginations. Anyone with a logical, analytical mind knew hauntings weren’t possible, and until she saw some believable proof, she would continue to only believe in things she could see. That’s what she told herself, anyway.
“I’m going to head home. You coming?” She gave Trish a hug.
“Nah. I’m going to hang around a bit longer. See if I can find myself someone as exciting as your mystery man.”
A fresh flood of warmth washed through her body. “Good luck.”
Emily stepped outside, and the crisp night air raised goose bumps on her bare arms. She called for an Uber and climbed into the backseat. Her apartment was only six blocks away, but her high-heeled Mary Janes were already rubbing her toes. She’d be on her feet all day tomorrow, and she didn’t need the blisters a walk home would cause.
Hiking up her skirt one last time, she climbed the stairs to her apartment. Peaceful silence greeted her as she opened the door and stepped inside. She unlaced her bodice on the way to her bedroom and inhaled the first truly deep breath she’d taken since she put the damn thing on. The costume was silly and extravagant, and she still wasn’t sure why she’d let her friend talk her into wearing it.
She yanked off her mask and dropped the dress on the floor. Tiny flakes of red glitter rained down around her legs as she stepped out of the garment and smiled. Extravagant, yes, but the effect it had on Westley was well worth the hassle. She shivered.
Now there was a man who’d be occupying her dreams for a while. But as much as she wanted to see him again, it was definitely better this way. No one was as charming and perfect and seemingly handsome as he appeared to be. Now she could hold on to that vision of him and never be disappointed. Of course, she could only envision him with that stupid mask and head covering. His eyes were a deep goldish-brown, but she had no clue what color his hair was, or if he even had any.
Blond. She’d imagine him blond like the Westley from the movie. Dark eyes. Light hair. Tanned skin. Oh yeah, he was welcome in her dreams. She slipped on a blue cotton nightshirt and poured a fresh ring of salt around her bed. Hopping over the trail, she climbed into the sheets and peered over the side. The ring was intact. No breaks anywhere. No nightmares would be invading her sleep tonight.
* * *
Sean stepped through the double doors of the empty ballroom and found his mother admiring his portrait of the ghost children. Her mask lay on a table, and she rubbed at her smudged eye makeup and turned around to greet him.
“Where did you run off to in such a hurry?”
“Sorry, Momma.” He gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “One of my employees up and quit on me, so I had to run a tour.”
“Let me guess. The young Anthony?”
He nodded. He’d have to hire someone else and quick. October was far too busy for Jason and Sydney to handle on their own.
“Kids th
ese days have no manners. No respect for others.”
“I know, Momma. I’ll try to hire someone older next time.”
She pressed her lips into a line and stared at him. “I noticed you found a Buttercup tonight.”
“You saw that, huh?” An image of those perfect red lips curved into a seductive smile flashed in his mind, and his chest tightened. He couldn’t wait to put pencil to paper and immortalize the gorgeous queen.
“And then you let her go.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “That was her choice, not mine. She doesn’t want to see me again.”
She crossed her arms and shook her head. “Bless your heart. Men can be so stupid.”
“Momma!”
“I’m sorry, but that girl does want to see you again. She was crazy about you.”
He glared at her. Madeline LeBlanc was famous for her meddling, and he could see exactly where this conversation was heading. “And how would you know that?”
“Because I know her, and I spoke to her after you ran off.”
His heart thumped against his chest. “What did she say?”
“She called you charming, perfect…I think the word ‘amazing’ may have been mentioned.”
He laughed. “Well, if she felt that way, why wouldn’t she even tell me her name?”
His mom shrugged. “Something about not attaching herself to the first man she meets. She just moved here a few months ago. And she also mentioned if she ran into you again, she’d be happy about that. Serendipity, she called it. She sounds like a hopeless romantic to me…kinda like someone else I know.”
“I am not a hopeless romantic. I’m waiting for the right girl.” Why didn’t anyone understand that? Just because he was a man, it didn’t mean he had to chase after everything with boobs and a pair of legs.
Madeline arched an eyebrow. “She could be the one, and I can arrange that serendipity for you.”
His chest squeezed even tighter. Could she be the one? He hadn’t felt that alive since Courtney died. And his mom knew how to get in touch with her. Temptation gnawed at his gut, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from agreeing to her suggestion. Buttercup had said all she could give him was tonight. He wouldn’t ask for more.
“No, I’ll respect her wishes. And who knows? Maybe I will run into her again, and we can have that serendipitous moment after all. It’d be a nice story to tell your grandchildren one day, wouldn’t it?”
She fisted her hands on her hips. “Don’t play the grandchildren card on me unless you’re serious, young man.”
He winked. “I would never tease you about that.”
“Love at first sight is a real thing. I knew your father was the one the second I laid eyes on him.”
He sighed. “Goodnight, Momma. Are you okay to drive home? You didn’t have too many mint juleps, did you?”
She waved a hand dismissively. “I’m fine. But you let me know when you change your mind.”
“I won’t change my mind.”
“Yes, you will.”
“Goodnight.” He turned and strode away. Pausing in the doorway, he opened his senses, searching for any lingering spirits that might want to show themselves before he left. They must have sensed his brooding mood; no one appeared to him. Just as well. He couldn’t focus on much but that fiery red hair and soft, pale skin. Even though she’d worn a mask, he’d recognize her anywhere. And the tattoo on her wrist would be confirmation enough he’d found her again if he ever ran into her.
Chapter Three
Sean sipped his coffee and put the finishing touches on yet another sketch of the beautiful redhead, who’d been starring in his dreams the past three nights in a row. He’d managed to capture the playful sparkle in her eyes perfectly, even through the mask, and his pencil lingered on the delicate curve of her smile the way his lips had days before. He shouldn’t have been so hung up on a woman he hardly knew, but if he couldn’t get her off his mind soon, he might have to take his mom up on her offer of scheduled serendipity.
He dropped the pencil and slammed the sketchbook shut. Don’t be an idiot. He’d had his chance at love, and he should consider himself lucky for getting to experience it once. What made him think it could happen again?
He dumped the rest of his java down the sink, grabbed his keys, and headed for the office. Climbing into his silver Tesla Model S, he started it. Sometimes he missed the sound of a gas-powered engine rumbling to life, but the soft hum of the electric motor provided a gentle reminder of the pollution he wasn’t spouting into the air every time he accelerated.
A canopy of live oaks covered his driveway, dappling the morning sunlight into intricate patterns of light and shadow on the concrete. He pulled onto St. Charles and rolled through the Garden District, admiring the scenery. His artist’s eye would never tire of the lush gardens and grand antebellum homes that made up his neighborhood, homes that had stood for hundreds of years, many of them still belonging to descendants of the original owners.
He grew up in a mansion three streets over that had been in the LeBlanc family from the beginning. His mom still lived there, and one day, he probably would again.
As he headed toward his French Quarter office, the quaint, old charm of the Garden District gave way to the modern feel of the Central Business District. The buildings grew taller, their exteriors blander. He drove past Trinity Memorial Hospital, and his chest gave a little squeeze as it did every time he passed the place where Courtney spent her final hours of life. But she was in a better place now, and he still had a life to live. She’d told him that herself, many times when she came to him in his dreams.
His dreams. The only face he’d seen in his dreams lately was that of a living, breathing redhead. He shook his head to chase Buttercup’s image from his mind. He was ready to move on. He had been for some time, though he didn’t think he’d ever meet another woman he could burn for. Until now.
He turned down a side street in the French Quarter and punched the button to open the security gate on the alley near his building. Pulling into a parking space, he killed the engine and headed to the office. Sydney sat at the computer, her fingers flying over the keys as she updated the tour company’s website. Her jet-black hair was sheared short in a lopsided pixie cut, and an intricate sleeve of tattoos covered her left arm from her shoulder to her wrist. He closed the door behind him, and she waved a hand in the air.
“Hey, boss. I’m almost done updating the calendar. I think we’ll be able to keep our full schedule after all. The new guy is awesome.” She turned around, and her almond-shaped eyes twinkled with her smile. “Where’d you find him?”
He peered at the screen over her shoulder. Two tours per night, every night for the rest of October. Three on Saturdays. He’d better be awesome, or Sean was going to be leading a lot of tours this month. “A friend in the investigative side of the business recommended him. Seems to really know his stuff. Theater major too.”
“He’s really good. I think he’s ready to go solo.”
“Eric? So soon?” He stepped around the desk, and Sydney moved from the computer so he could sit. He’d intended to hire someone older and hopefully more responsible after the last college student quit without notice. But Eric was so enthusiastic, and he seemed to know everything about Sean’s investigations and the evidence he’d collected.
She drummed her unpolished nails on the desk. “He’s done four tours with me the past two days. He’s ready.”
He closed the calendar and eyed Sydney. She’d been twenty-one when he hired her four years ago, the same age as Eric now, and she was his most trusted employee. Of course, she grew up in his neighborhood, so he’d known her all her life. She handled the schedule, designed the company website. Hell, she even ran all the tech equipment on investigations. She was indispensable.
His mother’s words rang in his ears. Kids today have no respect. Not all kids. “Call him and let him know he’s on the eight o’clock tour alone. I’ll follow in the crowd tonight in ca
se any emergencies arise.”
“Okay.” She traced her finger over the wood pattern in the desk. “He’s been asking about going on an investigation too. Got anything scheduled?”
He leaned back in the chair and linked his fingers behind his head. “I’m working on something for Halloween. You in?”
“Sounds like fun. Who else is coming?”
“Just us, Jason, and Eric, I suppose.”
“Oh.” She chewed her bottom lip and averted her gaze.
“Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” She busied herself checking the charging cables on the iPads. Finding a loose one, she pushed it in with a trembling hand and nearly knocked it off its base. She caught it before it could fall, and she let out a nervous giggle.
Uh-oh.
He scrubbed a hand over his face as a sickening feeling formed in his gut. “If you saw something, I don’t want to know about it.” Sydney was one of the psychics who actually could see glimpses into the future. Occasionally. Uncontrollably.
She dropped her arms by her sides and turned to face him. “I never said I saw anything.”
“Good.”
* * *
The door chime dinged at six fifty-five, and Emily cringed. No one had walked through the clinic entry since six-fifteen, but of course her last patient would arrive five minutes before closing time. So much for actually getting to leave at seven.
The mother eased her son into a chair and strutted toward the reception desk. Her heels clicked across the tiles, echoing through the building. “My son is sick. He needs to see a doctor.”
Trish handed the woman a clipboard. “If you’ll fill out this form and give me your ID and insurance card, we’ll get you right back.”
Love & Ghosts: Crescent City Ghost Tours Page 3