“Not yet. It’s a police chief thing. But keep your fingers crossed. If it pans out, I can tell you.”
Violet raised her hands and crossed her fingers, followed by Megan and his mother.
“Can’t lose with luck like that.” He smiled.
Nic and Violet made quick work of breakfast, and soon they were on their way to the shop. He didn’t open his mouth on the trip, couldn’t have gotten a word in with the way Violet and his mother talked nonstop. Megan piped in every so often, too, proving she paid attention to the conversation while she scanned the listings of rental properties. He played chauffeur, amazed by how women could find so much to talk about in the morning.
Surprised by his feeling of right.
He’d been tired, no question, ready to take a break from his responsibilities to everyone and everything in his life, but Nic didn’t know when those responsibilities had started to feel like burdens. But they had. He knew it now as he squired around these women, his women, couldn’t imagine anything else he’d rather be doing at the crack of dawn on a Saturday.
That’s what they felt like. His.
And Violet was. His mother, too.
But not Megan. She was only along for the ride.
He dropped off his mother at the shop, eager to get busy with the house hunting so he could stop thinking.
“Where to, ladies?” he asked.
“Once we figure out what neighborhoods we’re interested in, we can drive by these places and make the first round of cuts that way,” Megan suggested. “If we see anything we like we can call the agent and ask to see inside. Sound like a plan?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“What about schools?” Violet suddenly appeared, blond head practically in the front seat as she strained against the seat belt. “What’s the deal? We usually figure out what the best school is and then work from there.”
Nic maneuvered into traffic on Magazine Street and headed out of the commercial area. “Okay, define best.”
“Like, where all the decent kids go.”
He could hear a duh in there and, sure enough, one look in the rearview mirror found her glancing askance at Megan as if to question why she’d reproduced with someone so dense.
“Well, we’ve got Newman, which is a great school. Tuition is steep, but we should be able to swing it. Or Sacred Heart, which is where your mother went. Tuition’s more reasonable, but it’s all girls. Wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that.”
Another glance in the rearview mirror where he found horrified blue eyes staring back.
“Okay then, how about De La Salle?” He glanced at Megan. “Didn’t they become coed before you left?”
“When I was a sophomore, I think.”
“Sound better?” he asked. “What about St. Augustine’s? Only boys there.”
Violet continued to stare wide-eyed.
“There’s St. Mary’s and the Ursuline Academy—”
“Don’t they have, like, public schools around here?”
“They do. And as a public servant, I should probably recommend our school system. But as your father, I’d be very remiss if I didn’t mention that the school situation took a massive hit in Katrina. We lost about a hundred of our hundred and twenty-eight school buildings.”
Megan gasped.
Nic nodded. “Yeah. Not pretty. So the legislature stepped in to get the new school system off to a good start.” In much the same way the federal government had stepped in with the police department.
“So, now we have charter schools or the recovery school district. They’re still working out the bugs on both. I’m thinking Sacred Heart.”
“All girls? Ugh. Mom, come on.”
“It’s a very good school, pup. Why don’t we drive by and take a look at the campus. De La Salle isn’t far from there, either. We’ll keep open minds and do our homework. We have time to make a decision.”
Violet didn’t look too open-minded from where Nic sat, but Megan seemed to have given the choice to their daughter. He wasn’t sure what he thought about that. Okay, he supposed, if she made the right choice.
“Why do you like public schools?” he asked.
“Friends.”
“They might have friends in private schools.”
“Funny.” She didn’t look as though she appreciated his attempt at humor one bit. “I’m not into snotty rich kids.”
A generalization if ever he’d heard one, but Nic didn’t think she’d appreciate him pointing that out. He chose a safer route. “I have a question. With the way you move around, do you ever run into trouble with your classes? You guys live in some out-of-the-way places.”
“Never been a problem. I’m always ahead. And if the curriculum is too behind, then I take virtual classes to keep my brain entertained. No big deal.”
Nic was impressed. Then again, Megan’s parents were both academics. He would expect Megan to place a lot of importance on education. “So you might be interested in dual enrollment. We have some good universities around here that make classes available to the high schools. It’s a great opportunity to get some of the general education classes out of the way before college. You could even start college as a sophomore.”
“Cool.” She strained against the seat belt again, suddenly interested. “What about Grandpa Bell’s school, Mom? Do you think they have classes there?”
“We can certainly find out.”
“Oh, yeah, man. That’d be cool. I’m going to make the most of the whole family thing while we’re here. Just so you know.”
Megan glanced over her shoulder, the smile forced. “Now would be the time.”
Nic turned west on St. Charles Avenue, and Violet fell silent as the lawns stretched out and the houses grew impressive. He found Violet’s heads-up about the Professors Bell interesting. Had the trouble between Megan and her parents started when she decided to keep Violet? He’d had to make more assumptions since Megan hadn’t filled in the blanks. He wondered how things would work out once she and Violet came here to live then reminded himself it wasn’t his problem.
Pulling up to the curb, he announced, “First stop.”
“Wow, it doesn’t really look much different,” Megan said softly. “This is where I went to school.”
Violet pushed open the door and stood so she could check out the grounds behind the majestic gates that displayed the words Sacre Coeur in elaborate ironwork. No sooner did she get out when a class filed from a side building into the courtyard.
He heard Violet gasp.
“What do you think?” he asked Megan, who shook her head.
“Not looking promising.”
Violet hopped back in the car. “Let’s go. I’m thinking my nose ring won’t work with those cute little uniforms.”
“Might not be a problem,” Megan said drily. “Since we haven’t actually addressed your nose hardware yet. I was saving that conversation until things settled down a bit.”
“What’s there to talk about?” Violet feigned innocence, then shifted to evasive maneuvers. “I have a question. If you went to a girls’ school, how’d you two meet?”
Nic caught her gaze in the rearview mirror, just to let her know he knew exactly what she was doing. This kid was too slick for her own good. “Your mother was my Spanish tutor.”
“Where did you go to school?”
“Public high school not far from here.”
“Are we going there, too?”
“We can drive by the vacant lot where it used to be.”
“Oh. Bummer.” She shifted around to look at Megan. “So how’d you wind up a tutor?”
“Community service,” Megan explained. “We needed volunteer hours like you do. My Spanish teacher knew your dad’s teacher and set us up.”
“Where did you guys meet to study?”
“The public library.”
“Is that still here? Can we go see it?”
“That we can. We can swing by when we head back to look at some properties Uptown. Sound good?”<
br />
Slowing, he angled for another spot along the curb so Violet could see the school across the street, supposing it was natural that she’d be interested in how her parents met.
“There’s De La Salle,” Megan said. “What do you think?”
Violet’s seat belt snapped back with a jangle as she shot to the other window. Nic turned off the lock and lowered it so she could see better.
“Not nearly as impressive, is it?” she admitted, eyeing the self-contained building. “Do they wear uniforms? I don’t see anyone around.”
“We’ll probably be able to find out on the website,” Megan suggested.
“I’ll get right on that as soon as we’re home.” She scooted across the seat and buckled in again.
Megan just shook her head, and Nic supposed he was getting a much better handle on what best meant.
“Oh, Nic.” Megan placed a hand on the seat between them suddenly, a casual gesture, so near his thigh that he got the sense that she’d only just stopped herself from touching him. “Let’s drive by the universities since we’re so close.”
“Can do.” He checked the side mirror before pulling away.
Keeping course west on St. Charles Avenue, he was glad it was Saturday and traffic wasn’t too bad. Except for the guy he was driving behind. Most people recognized the unmarked cruiser and slowed to a crawl. Why? Nic had no clue. He’d never been able to figure out why anyone would want to piss off the cop on their tail by driving below the limit.
They reached the campus of Loyola University first, one of the top ten Southern colleges.
“There you go, pup. That’s where your grandparents work. And your father went to school here, too.”
“You did?” Violet asked, surprised. “With Mom’s parents?”
Even Megan turned to face him for that answer. “I didn’t actually take classes with them.”
Purely by design, but he didn’t admit that. Her mother, as dean of Languages and Cultures, hadn’t been much of an issue since he’d fulfilled his language requirements, but her father’s history classes had popped up all over his schedule.
Neither Megan nor Violet seemed to find that a surprise and Nic wondered how much Megan had shared with their daughter about the past. He’d noticed how she frequently kept her mouth shut to encourage Violet’s involvement in all sorts of things and had to wonder if her seemingly liberal parenting style translated into that sort of openness.
God, he hoped not.
They cruised past Tulane University before he U-turned and officially started the search for a place to live.
A top floor of a two-story clapboard with a pool in Marlyville-Fountainebleu.
A cottage in Freret.
Two duplexes Uptown.
“Don’t they have any real houses to rent?” Violet finally asked. “These are all, like, apartments. It’s not just us. We need room for GigiMarie, too.”
“I’m looking at the square footage,” Megan said, “And there are quite a few that are a fairly good size.”
Nic agreed. “Most are houses that have been renovated into apartments because they were so big in the first place.”
“And there are so many on here.” Megan held up the list. “I wasn’t sure what to expect after the hurricane.”
He only nodded, not needing a reminder of the FEMA trailer days. “Megan, let me see that. Maybe I can help narrow the choices. There have got to be at least fifty listings here.”
He pulled over at the stop sign and glanced at the list. “All right, here goes.”
There was a single-family Queen Anne that Nic knew by just looking was way the hell out of their price range.
An Uptown bungalow that had a great gallery porch. This one didn’t have a rental price, either.
He liked the look of the house that had been split into a duplex on Pitt Street the best, a location so close to the Academy of the Sacred Heart that Violet could easily walk.
His daughter didn’t miss a beat, though, and knew exactly what he was doing—trying to keep her close to the schools he considered appropriate. He was actually trying to keep them in the Second District, where he was much more comfortable with the crime rate.
“OMG, is that—Dad, turn right.” Violet practically hopped in her seat. “Mom, isn’t that your street? Joseph? That’s what’s on Grandma and Grandpa’s Christmas cards.”
“Sure is. But I spoke with your grandparents, Violet. They’ve had budget cuts at the university. Both of them have taken on extra classes, so they’re really busy right now. But they’ll invite us over. You can see the house then.”
Nic was surprised she didn’t suggest a drive-by to at least let Violet see the place. Then it hit him. Saturday. He didn’t care how busy her parents were at work. They were professors and probably would be home. Didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out this one.
He was still her dirty little secret.
God, for a brief, shining few hours he’d actually felt good about what lay ahead. But Megan was still playing games.
Only Nic wasn’t eighteen anymore. This time he wasn’t going to sit back and keep his mouth shut.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
OKAY, VIOLET WAS OFFICIALLY over being bullied by the police chief. She wasn’t sure why Mom was letting him dictate where she was allowed to go to school and where they were allowed to live, but Violet wasn’t going to put up with this crap anymore. No way.
Besides, what did she have to lose? Mom was probably going to make her take out her nose ring and with this sort of backup, what chance did Violet have of reasoning with her?
Not much. The police chief obviously wasn’t big on reasoning. He liked to give orders and have them obeyed.
“Yes, sir, Chief!”
Well, Violet didn’t work for the police department, and they needed to get that straight before she moved to town.
She made the mistake of pointing out that all the places they were looking at were in a totally different direction than his place and Grandmama’s, which got her treated to a soliloquy about the crime rate in New Orleans.
Then, just to prove he could be flexible, he’d pulled over and started going through the list item by item until she was ready to jump out the window or asphyxiate from exhaust fumes. He did manage to find two he considered suitable.
The second floor of a double gallery house on Magazine Street that Violet could tell from one glance would be way too dark for Mom’s taste. And a first floor that wasn’t far from his condo that looked like a prison with the gate higher than the building and signs everywhere about the property being under video surveillance. Puh-leeze.
The only thing that even remotely redeemed the day was when they passed a Starbucks and he pulled in, looking like he needed a break as much as she did. Not only did Violet get out of the car, but she soaked him for a venti Frappuccino with three extra shots. He didn’t even blink when the barista rang it up.
Mom did though.
“Be right back, Nic,” she said while herding Violet toward the bathroom. She shut the door behind them and demanded, “Was that really necessary?”
“He’s being a total jerk, Mom. Looking for a place to live is always the fun part. But not with him.”
“Cut him a break, Violet.” Mom sighed. Flipping on the water, she washed her hands. Probably trying to drown out the sounds of their voices in case he was listening at the keyhole. “He’s trying to make sure we’re someplace safe, and he doesn’t have a lot of practice dealing with our family unit, as you well know. Not to mention that we’re used to doing this. He isn’t. Instead of getting frustrated, why don’t you help make it fun?”
“I am. Mood elevation through caffeine and sugar.”
Mom met her gaze through her reflection in the mirror and frowned. “The only way this is going to work is with some compromise. You have to get to know each other. Being part of a family isn’t always easy. You know that.”
She did know that, but wasn’t about to admit it. Not when she kept
getting annoyed when Mom said things like you have to get to know each other and not including herself. It was as if she was abandoning Violet to the police chief when she should have been explaining how things were done in this family.
They made it out of Starbucks alive, and Violet even said “Thanks,” for the expensive Frappuccino. The caffeine and sugar helped, too.
Then they found a perfectly perfect cottage with gingerbread trim and lots of character tucked away on a tiny cul-de-sac.
Violet was instantly in love.
Of course, he started up about how they were on the fringes of Uptown, but he did call the real estate agent when Mom asked nicely. Then they walked around, checking out the neighborhood while waiting for him to arrive.
The cottage was only a block from St. Charles Avenue, and Violet was certain that no matter what school she got stuck in, it would be in the part of town around her grandparents’ university. That seemed to be the only part of town he approved.
“I could take the streetcar to school,” she said. “Way better than the bus.”
Especially if she got stuck in a school with uniforms.
Megan nodded. “Much better than walking in Accra.”
“Especially during monsoon.”
The police chief didn’t say a peep, and Violet felt her mood improve a little more. Okay, the street leading to the cul-de-sac wasn’t as great as some of the others they’d seen, but it was a perfectly good street with lots of trees and well-kept lawns. There weren’t any clunker cars abandoned on the curbs, if that’s what he was looking for.
And the cottage was really perfect.
When the agent guy got there, he unlocked the front door and deactivated the alarm while they stood on the front porch.
“Oooh, a security system.” That should make the police chief sleep better. “Nice and safe in here.”
Mom was staring her down, but then the guy invited them in, and they all filed into the most perfect place Violet had ever seen. Exactly what a deep-South cottage should look like.
Floor-to-ceiling windows and a really high ceiling that Mom would love. Hardwood floors that gleamed. A brick fireplace and a decent size kitchen. A staircase led up to a loft-looking place that Violet hoped was a bedroom. Hers, to be exact.
Then There Were Three Page 18