1 Mardi Gras Madness

by Alison Golden

  Nat shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows? He’s very private about what he does outside of the guesthouse and laundry.”

  Roxy continued to look over as they passed and wondered what he could be doing. The transaction didn’t look very savory.

  When they reached the narrow cobbled street that housed Evangeline’s guesthouse and Elijah’s wonderful bakery, they spotted a woman wearing a navy pencil skirt and jacket up ahead of them. It was hard not to spot her because just then she caught the heel of her bright red stiletto in the cobblestones and went flying forward. She collapsed onto one of Elijah’s tables and stayed there prostrate over it for a few seconds until she looked around at who might have seen her ungainly fall. Carefully, she straightened up, tugged on her pencil skirt, and wriggled it back into place. She smoothed down her thick, shoulder-length blonde hair, flicking what might have been crumbs off her jacket.

  As Roxy, Sage, and Nat got closer, they could see the woman was furious. A deep frown creased her forehead, and she blew air from her nose like an angry bull. Tears shone in her eyes, too, and when she noticed them, she flushed a deep shade of pink. “Oh…,” she said. Roxy felt a little sorry for her.

  “Hi there,” Nat said, uncharacteristically smiley. “Have you come to stay at Evangeline’s?”

  “Evange—? That!” the woman replied. She spun around, looking up at Roxy’s rickety balcony in disgust. Roxy began to feel distinctly less sorry for her. “Of course not. I’m looking for Richard Lomas. Have you seen him?” Her eyes like lasers drilled into the three of them, and her lips, bearing remnants of red lipstick that matched her shoes, curled into a snarl.

  Nat crumpled her brow.

  “The name sounds familiar,” Sage said. “Um…”

  “Tall guy,” the woman said, flicking up her chin. “Snappy suit. Property developer. Attitude to match.”

  “Oh!” everyone said, even Roxy.

  “Yes, we know him.” Nat crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you one of them? The demon developers?”

  “No,” the woman practically spat. “My name is Mara Lomas. He’s my husband. How do you know him?”

  “He’s been trying to persuade Evangeline to sell her building to him. So he can tear it down,” Nat said, “but it’s not for sale.”

  Roxy wasn’t at all sure Nat should be sharing this kind of information with a stranger on the street, but before she could say anything, Mara started snarling again.

  “Well, if you see the slippery snake, tell him I’m in town, I know exactly what he’s done, I know all about his cozy little double life and his mistress.” She laughed bitterly. “And tell him, he’d better say goodbye to his beloved Aston Martin, too, because that’s the first thing I’m going to make my lawyers take from him.” She looked the three of them up and down. No one knew quite what to say. She nodded her head fractionally upward. “Just tell him I’m looking for him, okay?”

  Nat shrugged. “Okay.”

  “Good.” Mara began to stride away purposefully, but her exit wasn’t quite as dramatic and impressive as it could have been. She had to quickly change her stride to a totter as she picked her way carefully over the cobblestones in her three-inch heels.

  “I hope for blessings on your soul,” Sage called out after her. She looked genuinely concerned.

  Mara waved dismissively. “Pray for his soul,” she called back. “He’s going to need all the protection he can get!” Her voice reverberated around the small side street; then she turned the corner and was gone.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “WHOA,” WHISPERED ROXY admiringly. She wished she had been a little more Mara-esque toward her ex. Some threats and stiletto strutting might have been quite empowering, but at least she hadn’t sobbed down the phone or had some other humiliating reaction. She had retained her self-respect.

  Roxy’s shoulders slumped when she thought of her ex-boyfriend. Without any idea of who his new girlfriend was or what she looked like, Roxy tortured herself with images of a tall, picture-perfect bronzed beauty with a gorgeous curvy body and thick, flowing, long hair. She’d be a brunette, of course, Roxy was sure. Ryan had loved to remind Roxy that he preferred dark-haired women. Dark-haired, long-haired women. As she considered this, she wondered whether she had been with someone who was deliberately cruel, who determinedly sought to undermine her, who wanted her to feel bad about herself? A frown creased the bridge of her nose.

  “Are you all right?” Sage said. The African-American woman peered at her with concern.

  “Oh, yes, yes, I’m fine.” Roxy woke up from her daydream and shook her head. “Yes, fine. Um, I must go. I’d better feed Nefertiti.”

  “You can let her roam around the house, you know,” Nat said. “We just have to make sure the front door is closed for a day or two. Evangeline always puts butter on our guests’ cats’ paws for a couple of days. Then they never stray far.”

  Roxy smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Aha!” a voice from behind them called out.

  They turned to see Elijah coming from his bakery, holding his signature white boxes. “You’ve got a beignet monster staying with you, huh?” he said. “Evangeline’s alone would keep my bakery going at the moment. Is it you, Roxy?” He narrowed his eyes as he pointed a finger and wagged it accusingly.

  “Look at how skinny she is,” Nat said, laughing. “She’s not scarfing down thousands of those things now, is she?”

  Elijah gestured down at his own impossibly wiry body.

  “Not everyone has the metabolism of a stick insect,” Nat said.

  He gave her a fake frown and wiggled his finger again. “You’ll never get a job anywhere else, Miss, talking to people like that. I hope you’re kissing Evangeline’s shoes.”

  Nat laughed again, but a little less heartily this time and punched him in the arm.

  “Anyhow,” he said, “who’s coming to see the Krewe du Vieux with me tonight? Their parade is in the French Quarter. I was thinking of heading there then maybe taking a cruise down the river.”

  “Wow!” Roxy said, her eyes lighting up. “I’ll come!” She paused. “What’s the Krewe du Vieux?” she added.

  “It’s a Mardi Gras parade known for its wild, adult themes. They usually include political comedy, and they have some of the best brass and traditional jazz bands in New Orleans,” Elijah said.

  “Sounds great!” Roxy replied.

  “If we’re feeling brave enough we’ll hit their after-party, too. It’s called the Krewe du Vieux Doo. Try saying that fast,” he added.

  “Krewe du Vieux Doo, Krewe du Vieux Doo, Krewe du Vieux Doo, Krewe du Vieux Doo, Krewe du Vieux Doo, Krewe du Vieux Doo,” Nat said.

  “Okay, okay,” Elijah retorted, flapping his free hand to calm her down. “I didn’t mean for you to take me literally.”

  “Krewe du Vieux Doo,” Sage said, elongating the vowels in the words, and shaking her head. “They should respect the vast spiritual heritage of Voodoo more carefully if you ask me. They’re making a mockery of it. You know, it’s a tradition thousands of years old from Central and West Africa.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Nat said. “But they just want to have fun! Relax a bit, Sage. You can’t take everything seriously. Elijah, I’ll be there. With Roxy and Sage.”

  “Sounds more and more like a party every moment,” Elijah said with a grin. “I like it. Sam’s coming, too.”

  “That means Louise will be there with her eyelashes,” said Nat. “Oh, bless her little heart.”

  That evening, they all met in the lobby and walked down to the French Quarter together. Sage was in her trademark flowing robes, a pale lilac this time. The color matched the tones in her hair. Nat also wore what was proving to be her uniform—black jeans and a scary-looking band t-shirt. A big pink tongue splayed out from a skull and crossbones that was emblazoned across the front of her top. In contrast, Louise wore a figure-hugging baby blue dress and stood too close to Sam, who kept edging away. He was more conventional in jeans and a button
-down shirt. To Roxy’s eye, and probably Louise’s, he looked more handsome than ever. Roxy had kept things simple with a long patterned rust-colored skirt and a cream peasant top, but Elijah wore a bright purple suit with a pair of shiny black crocodile shoes.

  Evangeline stood at the doorway, Nefertiti in her arms. The guesthouse owner had indeed given the cat butter that afternoon, and Nefertiti had appreciated the treat enormously. The elderly woman watched the younger people with tears welling up in her eyes. “This is the last time you’ll do this, leave from here to go to the parade. It’s the end of an era,” she said. She snuggled her head against Nefertiti’s.

  “You’ve decided to sell?” Sage asked.

  Evangeline nodded. “I’ve called that developer. It’s all over. This place will be just rubble by the end of the summer.” Her voice caught in her throat. “So y’all go on. Jump up in the carnival for me, and send old Evangeline’s out with the best of memories, won’t you?”

  “Of course we will,” Louise said. She wrapped Evangeline in a hug.

  They walked to the French Quarter a little subdued, but Elijah kept telling everyone jokes and striding forward cheerfully. He made everyone feel a little better. Everyone, that is, except Nat. She kept looking up and around at all the buildings and didn’t join in with any of the conversations.

  Roxy watched her for a while, wondering what was causing Nat to be so nervous, and considering whether she knew her well enough to ask her if she was all right. After a few minutes’ observation, she decided against it. She didn’t want to get her head bitten off for reaching out, and experience had taught her that might well happen. Instead, she fell into step beside her and they walked side by side in silence.

  New Orleans looked truly beautiful as they walked through it. There were string lights dotted around the tops of buildings and hanging over roadways. They were like little fairies who had decided to bless the city with their magic. It was warm for the time of year, too.

  “Lovely, isn’t it, this place?” Roxy said to Nat.

  “Not really,” Nat replied. “I’ve seen better.” She sounded nonchalant and dismissive, but her voice cracked.

  Silence fell once more. They walked on for a while, falling behind the others. “So how did you end up here?” Roxy tried again.

  “No particular reason.”

  “But you must have come here for something. You don’t end up in New Orleans by accident.” Roxy was surprising herself. She wasn’t usually so forward.

  “It’s a long story,” Nat said, staring resolutely ahead. She quickened her pace and walked away as Roxy watched her. She wondered what that long story might be.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  APART FROM WHAT Elijah had told her, Roxy had no idea what to expect from the Krewe du Vieux parade, but she was very excited and curious to see it. They had gotten there early, and yet the streets were already lined with people waiting for the parade to start. The atmosphere on the street was buzzing as the group settled down at a table outside a fancy-looking restaurant where the tables were covered in linens and a replica oil lamp sat on every one. The air was getting a little colder. The sun had set and the cool wind rushed over the darkened Mississippi River.

  “Café Brûlots all round to warm us up?” Elijah asked.

  “Oh, yes!” everyone except Roxy said. She had no idea what a Café Brûlot was.

  Sam sat down beside her. “You’re in for a real treat,” he said. “Café Brûlots are spiced liqueur coffees that they flame up right in front of you, watch.”

  Roxy looked at him warily. He seemed like such a good, generous person, but she wondered whether he was completely honest. There was that business with giving money to men on the side street and the flashy car. How did he afford such a thing? Was she just being paranoid? Oh, why was life so confusing?

  A waiter in a jacket and bow tie came up to the table rolling a cart with a bowl set on top. He straightened and poured some liquor into a ladle.

  “That’s cognac and Curaçao. The spices are already in the bowl,” Sam said in his lovely low voice. Roxy could feel the heat of his body next to her, and she struggled to keep her heart from racing. After all, he was very, very handsome. And Louise was right. He emanated stability and capability. He seemed like a guy who would step in and save the day if necessary, whatever it took. Safe. Solid. A protector. Still, she couldn’t put her worries to rest.

  The waiter set the alcohol on fire, and blue flames leaped up in a chaotic fiery dance. He ladled the flaming liquid over an orange that had been mostly peeled, its skin trailing downward in a spiral into the bowl. More blue flames jumped up, but the waiter doused them with a brown liquid.

  “And there’s the coffee going in!” Louise said. She giggled girlishly and brushed her hand against Sam’s.

  He jerked his away with a laugh. “Indeed, and now for the sugar.” He got up and went to stand next to Elijah.

  The waiter poured sugar into the bowl and ladled the spiced coffee, cognac and Curaçao mixture into small coffee glasses. He finished by adding a dollop of whipped cream. “Voilà!”

  The table burst into applause.

  “Bravo, bravo!” Elijah said, and he gathered up the coffee cups as best he could, carrying three between his fingers.

  Sam scooped up the other three coffees, and soon they were all sipping and sighing with delight. Roxy savored hers, drinking it ever so slowly. The brandy and coffee and cream together were warming, but the hints of orange and spice and cinnamon took the drink to a whole new level of “ahhhh.”

  “Like drinking a hug,” Nat said.

  Roxy smiled. “It is kind of like that!” She winced a little at the strength of the brandy, though. “They don’t scrimp on the alcohol, do they?”

  Sam laughed. “They certainly don’t.”

  Just then, police sirens started to blare, and blue lights flashed among the crowd.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Roxy said, getting up and looking around. She was a little jumpy at the best of times—the result of growing up with a mother who could be unpredictable—and sirens made her edgy.

  “They’re clearing the road for the parade!” Sage said, clapping her hands. “Let’s go stand a little nearer and get a good look!”

  The crowd wasn’t too dense, and they managed to get a great spot almost immediately. Roxy’s head swirled a little when she got up, though. The brandy had been strong, and she was beginning to regret not having eaten anything since breakfast.

  Brightly dressed people, some adorned with strings of fairy lights, began to walk down the middle of the street while music pumped away in the background. Roxy smiled at the colorful spectacle, the cold air hitting her face, joyous people all around her. She saw a woman with blue hair, a pink cone hat, a purple basque, and fishnets wave extravagantly to the crowd. Her friend, wearing a pirate hat, skull mask, and a ruffled gown, swayed silently to the music.

  “Look at the horse!” Sage said, nudging Roxy.

  Roxy peered down the end of the street and saw a dark brown stallion making its slow way toward them. It was pulling a parade float. A huge jester’s head was displayed on the front, dressed in lights and swathes of bright fabric. A couple of people stood on the float wildly waving colored rags around a sculpture of the Statue of Liberty.

  Next came a large group of people dressed in old-time clothes—men with tailcoats and tricorn hats, ladies with powdered faces, towering curly wigs, and corseted dresses in all kinds of vivid colors: fuchsia, turquoise, crimson, and canary yellow. They all laughed and joked and danced and drank as they proceeded down the center of the street.

  Roxy couldn’t help but bounce along to the rhythm of the music, too. Most everyone did, and Elijah was near leaping about. Only Nat stood still, looking uncharacteristically shy and withdrawn. Roxy thought she might try to talk to her again later, but for now, she was entranced by the throbbing beat, happy screams, whoops, and cheers that reverberated all around her.

  Soon a brass band was marchi
ng by, a whole assortment of men and women playing French horns and trumpets and saxophones and other instruments that Roxy didn’t know the names of. A percussion section followed behind with a man banging a big bass drum. The music was happy and cheerful and somewhat disorderly. It made Roxy want to dance.

  As soon as the parade had passed and people were simply milling around, Elijah jumped out into the road with them. “Who’s hitting the after-party with me?”

  “I’d much prefer the boat ride,” Sage said.

  “I think I need to eat something,” said Roxy. “That Café Brûlot has gone straight to my head!”

  “Me too,” Louise said, giggling. She stumbled into Sam and put her hand on his chest. “Oops! Silly me!”

  Sam carefully moved her hand away and steadied her on her feet. “Whoa there, lady,” he said.

  “What about you, Nat?” Elijah said, looking over. She had her arms crossed protectively over her chest, and her face was solemn. “Cat got your tongue this evening?”

  All of a sudden, Nat burst into tears, shocking everyone. She quickly swallowed and wiped her eyes hurriedly, saying, “Sorry, I’m sorry.” She turned to leave. The group followed her.

  “What’s wrong, cher?” Elijah said, putting his arm around her like a big brother.

  “What am I going to do? Evangeline’s closing!” Nat said, her voice strangled by another suppressed sob. “I won’t be able to stay!”

  “What do you mean?” Sage said. “You can get another job.”

  “But that’s just it!” said Nat. “I can’t.” She lowered her voice. “I don’t have a work visa. I came to the US to work as a nanny. Of course, that all went to pot, as does everything in my life, but Evangeline took me on and paid me under the table. It was lovely of her, and I will be eternally grateful…but…but, basically, I’m…well, I’m an illegal immigrant!”

  “Oh,” Elijah said, taken aback. Sage leaned over and, encircling Nat’s shoulders with her arm, kissed her on the head. “There, there.”