The Marilyn's: Sorry Charlie Part 8

Chapter 9.

Charlie waited for Wagner to open her car door and hoped that she could live up to her last statement. She really didn't believe in love-or that wasn't correct, she didn't believe in love for her. She'd seen true love for her friends, but some people just didn't get a happily ever after. That was okay... she liked her life. She had five nieces and two nephews. Her life was rich in love and only lonely sometimes.

"Let the romance begin." Wagner nodded to the cafe table set with white linen and gleaming crystal under a tree in the courtyard. "I promised you lunch."

"I was thinking more of a po' boy from Mahoney's on Magazine." She shrugged. "But this is even better."

"Should I try Mahoney's?" He looked like he was adding it to a mental list of things to do in New Orleans.

"Yes, it's good. There are lots of fantastic places to eat downtown." She zeroed in on the table. It was set but there wasn't any food. "What are we having?"

"The Gumbo Shop. I ordered two Creole Combination Platters. You can't go wrong with variety." He put his hand in the small of her back and led her to the table.

"I can't argue with that." She liked the feel of him next to her.

He pulled out the chair for her and placed her napkin in her lap. He'd gone all out. She was impressed. He might only be there to romance her on behalf of the Duplantis House, but she was going to enjoy the h.e.l.l out of it.

He bent over yet another YETI cooler and pulled out a carafe of iced tea. He set it on the table and reached down again, bringing up two foil-covered plates. He set one in front of her and one at his place. He unwrapped her foil and the scents of shrimp creole, jambalaya, and red beans wafted up on the breeze. The shade of the tree kept the October sun at bay.

"This is very nice." She skipped the salad fork and used the entree fork. She started with the creole. "I can see why Ka.s.sie in Dallas fell so in love with you. She used some very colorful language to describe the many ways she'd like to kill you."

He unwrapped his plate and sat down. "How do you know about Ka.s.sie?"

It was good to know he had sense enough not to pretend he didn't know Ka.s.sie.

"The website Lucky found. She's very upset." She spooned in some creole. "Ka.s.sie, not Lucky."

"Ka.s.sie took our breakup particularly hard." He poured himself and Charlie each an iced tea from the carafe. "Trust me when I tell you that she isn't a nice person."

"If your body washes up on the banks of the Mississippi River, my money's on Marlow from Denver. That woman definitely has a violent streak. She's really proud of that collection of mug shots she got from stalking you." Charlie should have been put off by his long list of heartbroken women, but she wasn't. It wasn't that she thought she was different; it was only that she wasn't in love with him and never would be. He was here now and they were having fun. One day, he would leave and she would miss him, but she'd start a new project and forget all about him. One day at a time.

"Marlow was particularly devoted to me." He used a slice of b.u.t.tered bread to move a bite full of red beans onto his fork.

He was a bread convert. Score one for the carb lovers.

"What you did to them was despicable." She sipped her iced tea. He needed to know her stance on his profession right up front.

"I agree." He sat back and wiped his mouth. "But you also don't know the circ.u.mstances. Still, you're right. I'm not a nice person."

Only, he did seem like a nice person. The whole nice-guy thing must all be part of his act. He was really good.

"I know you're not here to scope out the property for a buyer. So how did you get a key to the Duplantis House?" Now that they'd covered that she knew who he was and what he was doing here, they could move on.

He shook his head. "Trade secret. Let's just say that it was harder to get than it should have been."

"Have you been inside? Did you hear Angelique pacing?" Charlie had been in that house only once in her life, and that had been twenty years ago on a dare from Lucky. Charlie had stayed for all of five seconds-long enough to satisfy the dare, but not long enough to get busted for trespa.s.sing. The house had been boarded up for at least as long as Charlie had been alive.

"No, I wanted to wait for you." He didn't make eye contact.

"You're scared to go in there alone." It was funny, he didn't strike her as a scaredy-cat. "I thought you didn't believe in ghosts."

"Scared is such a dirty word. How about cautious? Plus, I didn't want to have all of the fun." He scooped up some jambalaya and popped it in his mouth. "This is really good."

"The Gumbo Shop is one of my favorite places." It was touristy but still wonderful.

"That's what Mama said." He used his bread to push a bite of creole onto his fork. "She would have fixed me up with some gumbo but it wasn't ready yet."

Charlie closed her eyes in memory of Mama's gumbo and then opened them again. "I love her gumbo."

It was sweet that he'd gone out of his way to ask Mama what Charlie liked.

"She told me that also." He looked rather proud of himself.

"I can see that you want to pat yourself on the back." She took a sip of her iced tea. "Go ahead. I'm very impressed."

She was doing her best to not be charmed, but it was getting harder and harder. She needed to remember that he charmed women for a living-she was just another in a long line.

"What's wrong?" He wiped his mouth. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, of course." She wiped her face clean of expression. She would not fall for him.

"Don't do that." He a.n.a.lyzed her face.

"What?" She studied her plate and became very interested in eating. She'd spent a lot of time learning the art of not showing emotion.

"Cover up what you're feeling with a smile." He wasn't going to drop the subject or let her off easy. She could feel his eyes on her.

"I don't know what you mean." She still didn't look up.

"Yes, you do." There was a full minute of silence before he said, "I do it too."

That caught her off guard. "I guess you can't afford to show what you're feeling either."

"We might be more alike than either of us is willing to admit." Gone was the charming man and in his place was a vulnerable boy.

Just what she needed to hear. Wow, he was good. It was probably so second nature that he didn't even know he was doing it. This was going to be harder than she'd thought. Finding out the real reason he was wining and dining her was important, and she certainly couldn't do it if she lost sight of the goal.

Speaking of goals. She checked the clock on her phone and pushed back from the table. "Sorry, but if we're going to see the inside," she nodded toward the main house, "and hopefully meet Angelique, we need to start now."

He looked like he wanted to say something else but changed his mind and stood. "Right."

He pulled the key out of his right trouser pocket and offered her his arm. She took it.

He leaned down and whispered closed to her ear, "I like you too, and that scares the h.e.l.l out of me."

"Isn't that..." She'd been about to say, "Isn't that what you're paid to say?" but she couldn't get the words to come out of her mouth. "Isn't this nice?"

She could smile her way through anything.

His brow crinkled into three lines as his hand came to the small of her back. "Don't want to talk about it. Message received."

The tension clung to them like the humidity outside, but she didn't know exactly how to fix it. She'd learned long ago to never show her true feelings to anyone-well, anyone outside of her best friends.

He stuck the key in the back door's lock, turned it until it clicked, and tried the k.n.o.b. The door didn't budge. He put his shoulder into it. On the third nudge it popped open.

He leaned down and picked up the two black Maglite flashlights next to the back door. Obviously he'd put them there earlier. The man thought of everything. For all of his faults, he was good at his job, she'd have to give him that.

He handed her one of the Maglites. She clicked the on b.u.t.ton and a stream of light landed on a faded painting leaning against a staircase that was missing several treads.

"d.a.m.n, dude looks like a lady." Wagner's flashlight beam joined Charlie's.

"I think it's the other way around. Lady looks like a dude." Careful of the ancient floorboards, she picked her way over to the painting.

"No way." Wagner squatted down in front of the portrait. "I think you're right. This person is... was female." He leaned in closer. "You'd think she would have told the painter to leave out some of her facial hair."

Charlie tucked her skirt in close to her knees and squatted down on the other side of the painting. "Maybe female facial hair was the in thing-you know, like how chunky women were in during the Baroque period."

She'd often thought she'd been born a little too late. She could have rocked a Rubenesque big bottom. In fact, she could have eaten her weight in Hershey's Kisses to maintain that bottom. Unfortunately, the Baroque period didn't have Hershey's.

It was always something.

"I think it's just dust." Gingerly, he tried to clean the canvas. "Nope, she really was painted with facial hair."

"Now we know why this painting is still here. It's too d.a.m.n ugly to be stolen." Chances were this was a portrait of one of her ancestors. Charlie touched her own upper lip, checking for any facial hair. She made a mental note to research laser hair removal in a preemptive strike against a lady-stache.

"What are the odds this was left here by a traveling carnival? This could be the bearded lady." He sounded like he was really trying to convince himself to believe it.

"Always the optimist." Charlie stood. "I think that's Angelique's niece Mathilda. I have a complete genealogy back on my computer. I think I've seen this portrait before." Yep, she needed to make a laser hair appointment ASAP.

Wagner looked at her and then the picture and then back at her. "No family resemblance whatsoever."

"Thank G.o.d." Charlie s.h.i.+ned her flashlight around the front entryway. The plaster was peeling off the walls, the corbels holding up the parlor doorway looked tired and ready to crumble, and the floor, which appeared to be heart of pine, was scuffed and splintering. "I bet this house was beautiful in its heyday."

"I know what you mean. The floors would have s.h.i.+ned with polish and the plaster on the walls would have been," he stepped closer to the wall and held his light on it, "light green."

She s.h.i.+ned her light on the gas lighting fixtures lining the walls. "Gaslights would have lit up the house for, say... a party to launch the now-of-age daughter onto the social-read, marriage-scene."

She could see it in her head. Lavish parties would have been held right here, with formally dressed young ladies and gentlemen playing cards or dancing and their fathers, wealthy merchants and officials, discussing the business of the city.

Family history swirled thick and heavy all around her. The house she lived in now had been in her family for as long as this one, but something about this house was special. Clearly, it had once been a home full of both love and hards.h.i.+p. Her house was more like a museum than a home-untouched by time... or love.

Overhead, a rhythmic tapping, like feet pacing a room, came through the walls.

Charlie looked at Wagner and he looked at her. They said in unison, "Angelique."

The clomping froze and so did they. No one made a sound as they listened for some evidence of Angelique.

Finally, Charlie felt she had to speak. "Angelique, I'm your niece. We're not here to hurt you. Everything's going to be fine." Charlie only felt mildly stupid talking to a possible ghost. She one-eyebrow-upped at Wagner. "Say something."

"Like what?" he said under his breath.

"Just tell her you're not here to hurt her," Charlie whispered back.

Wagner cleared his throat. "h.e.l.lo, Angelique, I'm Wagner Scott from Los Angeles. How are you today?"

"You sound like a psychologist sitting her down for her first session." Charlie stepped behind him and ma.s.saged the tension from the muscles in his neck. "Relax."

"We're here to help you in any way we can." He relaxed back into Charlie's touch. "If you need anything, just let us know. I'm at the guesthouse, so come over anytime."

It sounded like he was inviting her to the neighborhood crawfish boil.

"Should we go upstairs?" Charlie's flashlight lit up the staircase. Was it just her or did the whole thing tilt to the left. A lopsided staircase didn't look like a good idea. She turned around and s.h.i.+ned her flashlight at Wagner's chest to keep from blinding him. "What do you think about the stairway?"

His lips were mashed together.

"Okay, come on, what is it?" She mashed her own lips together to keep from laughing. It was clear he was trying to keep another bad pickup line from popping out.

"I'd like to lick my way up your stairway to heaven." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's like my mind shuts off sometimes. I couldn't get my brain to move on to the next thought. Clearly, I need some sort of medication."

"But what about going up the stairs?" It was terrible, but she loved his embarra.s.sment.

"I think those stairs are hanging on by a tread." He took a step back and shook his head. "Now I'm talking in puns."

"Maybe it's the bread. It's been known to render people speechless, only in your case it's the other way around." She shoulder-b.u.mped him. "Want me to kiss it and make it better?"

"Yes... no... wait... what?" He looked down at her, befuddled, and then swiped a hand across his mouth. "Sorry, I just keep picturing you kissing me while wearing nothing but those mile-high red shoes and I thought there might be drool." The meaning of his words sunk in and the look of horror on his face was priceless. He opened his mouth to say something, thought about it, and closed it. He was still looking at her but appeared to be lost in thought.

His mind was thoroughly in the gutter. To her knowledge, she'd never inspired such gutter thoughts before.