The Cakes of Monte Cristo (8 page)

“Especially if they'd taken a financial hit during the war,” I mused.

“I would say that had a bearing,” Orra agreed. “Anyway, the story is that Armand relented and gave the necklace to Beatriz instead. Some people say the necklace is cursed—”

I leaned forward, eager to hear more, but the front door
opened and a large round man rolled inside. He looked to be about forty, with an abundance of facial hair and thick brown hair on his head that curled down to brush his collar.

Orra cut a meaningful look at me and whispered, “Try not to let Sol see the necklace, dear. But if he does see it and offers you money, tell him no. Sol Lehmann is notoriously greedy—
and
cheap. And Miriam, his wife, is even worse. She's a barracuda. Just be warned, Sol won't give you anywhere near what the piece is worth.”

With that warning, Orra surged away, arms open wide as if she were greeting her BFF. “Well, Sol Lehmann, I haven't seen you in this neighborhood for months! What brings you our way this evening?”

Sol returned her hug, but I was pretty sure his heart wasn't in it. He extricated himself as soon as he could and started strolling along one of the aisles. “Don't worry about me, Orra. I can see you have a customer. I'm fine to look around on my own.”

Orra gave him a playful slap on the arm. “Don't be silly, Sol. I'll be right here in case you have any questions. Dominique is finishing up with Ms. Lucero so you have my full attention.”

Dominique stopped sorting shoes and started toward me.

Sol acknowledged Orra's offer with a dip of his head. “Very well. I heard a rumor that you picked up the Yarborough estate sale. I thought I'd stop in to see what you've found. Naturally, I want the first option on anything of value.”

He seemed to be paying attention to Orra, but I could see him eyeing my box on the counter curiously. If the necklace really was valuable, maybe letting Sol Lehmann see it wasn't such a bad thing. Orra had been recommended to me, but that didn't mean I had to trust whatever offer she made me. A little competition might drive up the price. Still, with her warning ringing in my ears, I started to wrap the necklace
back in the velvet. But as I went to place the necklace into the box, I had second thoughts.

I'd warmed to Orra, and the truth was, I didn't have time to schlep the necklace all over town looking for someone who could appraise it while I waited. It made sense to take Orra up on her offer.

“Was there something else?” Dominique asked as she slid behind the counter.

“Yes, I'm going to leave this with Orra after all. Do you think she'll have time to do the appraisal this week?”

Dominique held out her hand for the box. “I'm sure she will. We're busy getting ready for the Belle Lune Ball, but I'm sure she'll work in an appraisal soon.” She pulled out an order pad and pushed it across the counter toward me along with a pen. “If you'll just fill in your contact information—”

I wrote down my name and cell number and gave the pad back to her. Dominique filled in the rest of the form with a flourish and handed me a copy. “Give us a few days. We'll get back with you as soon as Orra has had a chance to look the necklace over.”

I tucked the receipt into my bag and waved to Orra as I left the Vintage Vault. I suspected that she knew more about the Toussaints, but clearly she hadn't wanted Sol to overhear our conversation. I'd just have to be patient and wait for my next chance to talk with her alone.

Dusk was settling over the city as I left the Vintage Vault, and the temperature had dropped at least ten degrees while I was inside. With nothing to do that evening, I strolled back toward the Range Rover, checking out the shops on the street and letting my imagination run wild with guesstimates about how much I thought the necklace might be worth.

We'd had a rough go at Zydeco after Philippe died, and Miss Frankie had sacrificed to keep the company afloat. I'd love the chance to contribute to the bakery's financial well-being. Surely she wouldn't object to my selling the rubies and using the money to fund our operation.

I'd gone about a block when a tall black man in a suit stepped out of a recessed doorway right in front of me. I swerved to step around him but he moved in the same direction. We did an awkward little dance on the sidewalk, each of us trying to avoid impact. I was paying more attention to
the uneven concrete than to my dance partner, so when he let out a whoop, I jerked backward and nearly fell.

He grabbed my arms to steady me. “Rita, right? It's Calvin.” He put a hand on his chest and tried again. “Ox's cousin, remember? We met the other day.”

“Yes, of course. I'm sorry. I didn't recognize you.” I was a little embarrassed, but in my defense, Calvin looked completely different than he had the first time I saw him. When we'd met at Zydeco, he'd been wearing worn jeans, a T-shirt and a ball cap. He'd also been sporting two days' growth of whiskers. Today, he was clean shaven and wearing a silk suit that looked as if it had been tailored to fit.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Did I hurt you?”

I shook my head quickly and smiled to prove that I was hale and hearty. “I'm fine. No harm done.” And then, because I felt awkward just standing there smiling, I asked, “Is this your day off? You're not helping Mambo Odessa today?”

He looked confused by my first question, but his expression cleared in response to my second. “No. Yeah. I'm not working today. Just taking care of a little personal business and about to have dinner.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and glanced down the sidewalk. “I don't suppose you're free? You wouldn't want to join me, would you?”

The offer caught me by surprise. “For dinner?”

He shrugged. “Unless you have other plans. Nothing fancy. I was just gonna grab a bite at Mama June's around the corner. It's kind of a dive, but it's got great food and I'd much rather have someone to talk to than eat alone.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to refuse, but I caught myself before I could. I wasn't in the habit of accepting dinner invitations from strange men, but Calvin wasn't exactly a stranger and it wasn't as if he was asking me for a date or as if I had other plans. In fact, my social calendar—if I'd had such a thing—would have been glaringly empty.

“Sounds great,” I told him. “Lead the way.”

We made small talk until we reached Mama June's, a small white brick building sporting a chalkboard menu on the sidewalk. Today's special: crawfish po'boys. Once inside, we were shown to a small table in the middle of a large nearly empty dining room featuring Formica-topped tables and mismatched chairs. Paper napkin dispensers and bottles of hot sauce served as centerpieces, and posters for jazz festivals from years past completed the décor.

Calvin held my chair while I sat, then made himself comfortable on a plastic chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “Welcome to Mama June's,” he said. “I haven't been here in years. I hope the food's still as good as it was.”

I took an appreciative whiff of the odors filling the room. “If it tastes anything like it smells, it should be wonderful. It's pretty well hidden, though. How did you find this place?”

Calvin handed me a plastic-covered menu. “Auntie Odessa used to bring us kids here when we were little. She lives just a couple of blocks away so it was close enough to walk.” He gave me an assessing look and added, “I'm surprised Ox hasn't told you about it. It was his favorite back in the day.”

“He's a private person,” I said. “He doesn't talk much about the past. Which of you is older?”

“I am, by about three years. And believe me, I never let Ox forget it.”

I mentally adjusted his age upward by a decade. “Don't take this the wrong way,” I said, “but you look younger. Not a day over thirty.”

He flashed a grin. “That's because I'm so much better looking.”

I laughed and glanced quickly over the menu. Mama June's offered simple fare, but everything on the menu sounded delicious. “Are there a lot of cousins in your family?” I asked to keep conversation flowing while I pondered my choices.

“It's a big family,” Calvin said, setting his menu aside. “There are around twenty of us on Mama's side. I've lost count on Daddy's.” He tapped a picture on the menu with his finger. “If you like po'boys, try the special. It oughta knock your socks off. And get a side of the fries. They're the best in town.”

I decided to take his advice and added a Diet Coke to my wish list. He left me long enough to place our orders at the counter, where a bearded man strummed a guitar between customers, and came back carrying a beer for himself and my soda in a plastic cup exactly like the ones my
abuela
'd had when I was a girl. My grandmother had died just a couple of years after my parents' accident, and most of my memories of her had faded with time. I hugged that one close as we settled in to wait for our food.

“Ox tells me you're new to the city,” Calvin said, turning the conversation on me. “How do you like it so far?”

“I guess I'm still considered a newcomer,” I said, “even though I've been here for over two years. It's different from what I was used to, but so far I like it a lot.”

“And what were you used to?”

“I grew up in Albuquerque, and I lived in Chicago while I was in pastry school. That's where Ox and I met.”

“New Mexico and Illinois,” Calvin said thoughtfully. “What brought you to New Orleans?”

I told him about Philippe dying and Miss Frankie offering me the partnership at Zydeco, skipping the gory details about our separation and the divorce that never happened. I almost left it at that, but decided that Calvin might have some insight into his cousin that could help our relationship. “I think Ox was disappointed,” I said. “He was here for Philippe from the beginning, and I know he wanted to step up when Philippe died. Sometimes I wonder if he . . .” I let the words trail off as I realized that there was no good way to end that sentence.

“If he resents you for having the job that should have been his?”

Apparently Calvin was fully capable of filling in the blank. Heat crept into my cheeks. I nodded and reached for my comforting plastic cup. “Something like that. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I'd just like to find a way to undo whatever damage has been done. Assuming there's been damage, that is.” I sighed in frustration and eked out a rueful grin. “Has he ever said anything to you?”

The guitar player delivered two plastic baskets filled with our sandwiches and overflowing with fries so hot they were still sizzling.

Calvin popped a couple into his mouth and swallowed them as if they were lukewarm before answering my question. “You're asking if Ox has confided in me?”

“Something like that,” I admitted. “Ox is a great friend, but I can't help feeling as if something got a little broken between us.”

Calvin unwrapped his sandwich and shook hot sauce over his crawfish. “Ox and I were close when we were kids, but we aren't like that now. I left town to do my thing. He went off to learn about food. I hadn't even seen him in at least ten years.” He smiled. “Even back then, our deepest conversations were about women and the Saints.” He ate more fries and ran an assessing glance across my face while he chewed. “You want me to talk to him or something?”

I shook my head quickly. “No. No!” I shuddered at the thought and grimaced with embarrassment. “Forget it. I shouldn't have said anything. It's just that I consider Ox a good friend, and if there's anything wrong between us that I could fix, I'd like to know how to do it. But if you said anything to him, it would probably just make things worse.”

We ate in silence for a few minutes. The po'boy was incredibly good, the bread crusty on the outside and soft on
the inside, the remoulade sauce just spicy enough to tingle gently on my tongue, the crawfish fried to perfection.

“I wouldn't worry about it too much,” Calvin said after he'd polished off half his sandwich. “Ox is big on family. We both are. He knows your mother-in-law made the only decision she could have. So even if he was disappointed, he'd be okay with it.”

I smiled, grateful for the effort. “And how do you know that?”

“He's still there, isn't he?”

My smile grew a bit wider. “Yeah. He is.”

“So there you have it.” Calvin picked up the second half of his sandwich but paused before biting. “You wouldn't happen to have any job openings, would you?”

I hadn't been expecting that. “At Zydeco?”

“Unless you've got another business I don't know about.”

“Nope. Zydeco's it. I just didn't realize you knew anything about cake.”

“I know it's delicious,” Calvin said with a grin. “What else is there to know?”

I laughed and shook my head. “I guess that means you have no formal training.”

“Naw, but I can do other stuff. Lift. Tote. Wash dishes. Clean.”

I might have expected that from him the day we met, but tonight, wearing that suit and looking as if he should be running his own business, the offer surprised me. “What happened to Mambo Odessa's?”

“I'm still there, but she only needs me a couple of days a week. I've gotta find more work than that if I'm going to make ends meet. Do you think you could hook me up? Ox said you were shorthanded.”

“We were,” I said, “but only because our office manager is out on maternity leave. I just hired someone to fill in for her.”

He looked so disappointed, I felt like a jerk. I liked Calvin, and wanted to help if I could.

“That isn't a ‘no,'” I assured him. “We have a huge job coming up in a couple of weeks, and it will be Mardi Gras season right after that. I might be able to find something temporary for the next few weeks, but I can't promise.”

The disappointment on his face morphed into a grin. “Hey, that's cool. Whatever you can do. I've done a little construction in my day, if you need help. It looks like your place is pretty torn up.”

I grimaced. “Yeah, but I can't worry about that until things slow down again.” I tried a fry and realized they were seasoned with chili powder and garlic—along with a few other spices I couldn't immediately identify.

“Okay. Well, keep me in mind,” he said and then changed the subject. “What are you doing in this part of town? Do you live around here?”

I shook my head. “No, I just had to drop something off at a shop down the street. I'm glad I ran into you. I might never have found Mama June's otherwise.”

“Glad to help,” Calvin said. “It's just as good as it used to be. It's nice to see that some things don't change.”

He looked so wistful, I felt a slight tug on my heart. Like Calvin, I'd left home to make my way in the world and there were times when I missed it so much it hurt. I'd gone home for Thanksgiving and I'd been blown away by the changes to the city and comforted by the familiar. Remembering that made me want to do what I could to help. I'd talk to Ox in the morning, I decided. Together we'd figure out a way to put Calvin to work.

*   *   *

After my dinner with Calvin, I drove home, took a hot shower, and climbed into bed with an Elizabeth Peters mystery and a contented sigh. I'd just spent the evening with good food
and good conversation, and I had a great house to come home to at the end of every day. What more could a woman ask for?

I didn't get a chance to answer that question because the doorbell rang, startling a surprised squeak out of me. I tossed my book aside and jumped out of bed, peeking out my window, which gave me a truncated view of the front porch.

There was a shadow standing in front of the door, but to my relief it was a familiar one. He must have known I'd be looking because he glanced up at my window and sketched a salute.

My heart jumped and a silly grin crept across my face. Liam Sullivan and I were as close to a “thing” as I'd been in a long time, but between my schedule at Zydeco and his as a homicide detective with the New Orleans Police Department, we sometimes went weeks without seeing each other. Not to mention where Gabriel fit in; he was a complication I hadn't quite worked out yet.

I thundered down the stairs in my most ladylike imitation of a herd of buffalo, flipped the deadbolt, and threw open the door. I only hoped he was as excited to see me as I was to see him.