Megan. The girls name was Megan. Not Ruby.
Claire glanced at her reflection in a store window, saw the pinched look on her face, the whitened knuckles where her hand gripped her purse strap, and slowly she let out another breath.
Ruby was dead and she wasnt coming back. Shed been taken from the sidewalk in front of their home while riding her bike, the victim of an abduction that had never been solved. Claire knew the statistics. Her daughter had probably been dead within the first twenty-four to forty-eight hours after shed been grabbed, her body discarded in some remote field or shallow grave, where she had been lying all these years. Alone.
Claire put a hand to her mouth. Tears scalded her eyes, but she held them back as she scoured the street in front of her. The girl and her friends had scurried beneath an awning to get out of the drizzle. Claire deliberately turned and started walking in the opposite direction.
Did you hear about the body they found in the Quarter? Charlotte LeBlanc asked casually when she and Claire met a few minutes later at their designated rendezvous.
I saw it on the local news before I left the house this morning. Do the police know who did it?
Claires sister was an assistant D.A. for Orleans Parish and usually had an open pipeline to the police department, but she shook her head. They think it was probably drug-related. So far they havent even been able to identify the body. Poor bastard was sliced up pretty bad. All his fingers were missing.
Claire shuddered. I dont know how you do it, dealing with that kind of violence on a daily basis. I think it would start to get to me after a while.
I think it would, too, but Im not you. And someone has to keep the baddies off the street. Charlotte snapped open her umbrella as the drizzle turned into a full-fledged shower and the gray clouds over the Gulf vibrated with lightning. Within a matter of moments the city was soaked and dripping, and as they walked along Decatur, Charlotte tried to hold the umbrella over both of them.
Here, let me, Claire said as she took the handle. Im taller.
Okay, but just make sure Im covered. Im wearing silk. Damn. Charlotte swore as she stepped in a puddle. And these shoes are brand-new.
Claire glanced down at her sisters high heels. The delicate footwear had obviously not been designed for wet weather, but certainly looked elegant and sophisticated on Charlottes dainty feet.
Claire felt a stab of envy. She couldnt remember the last time shed splurged on a pair of expensive shoes. As a matter of fact, she couldnt remember the last time shed enjoyed any indulgence whatsoever, but with her divorce nearly final, she had to keep her belt tightened. Now was not the time for extravagant purchases.
Although Charlotte would argue that designer shoes were not an extravagance, but a necessity. Image was everything and nothing screamed success like a good pair of shoes. Unless, of course, it was her gorgeous leather handbag, the one that had come with a four-figure price tag in roughly the same amount as Claires new central air-conditioning unit.
Her grandmothers old house was going to be the death of her yet, Claire thought as she and Charlotte sidestepped crates of watermelons and cantaloupes stacked in front of a small grocery store. The old Uptown house was a classic money pit with the never-ending repairs and the exorbitant utility bills. Little wonder that shed worn the same sandals and carried the same battered tote for two summers in a row. But then, an artist, as Charlotte teasingly called her, didnt need to worry about her image the way an up-and-coming assistant D.A. did.
Claire wondered if any of the people they passed on the street would ever guess that she and Charlotte were sisters. They were so different in so many ways. They shared the same mother, but their looks and temperament had come from their respective fathers.
Charlotte was a petite brunette and as charming and vivacious as her handsome father, A. J. LeBlanc, who had sweet-talked his way into their mothers heart and bed and then absconded with her life savings two days after shed told him she was pregnant.
Charlottes abandonment issues aside, her fathers Creole heritage had blessed her with a honey-colored complexion and beautiful almond-shaped eyes the color of fine Burmese jade. Claire had always thought her sister resembled a porcelain figurine, but when she got angry, those green eyes would glitter like a knife blade.
In contrast, Claire was tall, thin and fair, an introvert whose propensity for brooding had come from her bookish father. Williams suicide, followed by A.J.s betrayal, might have made some women a little gun-shy in the romance department, but not their mother, Lucille. A string of live-in lovers had followed, until her latest paramour, Hugh Voorhies, had swept her off her feet eight years ago. That was an endurance record for Lucille.
Damn, Claire, pay attention, will you? Im getting soaked.
Sorry. Claire repositioned the umbrella to make sure that her sister was protected. The rain stirred a myriad of scents along the streetstale wine, flowers and damp brick. And from a restaurant doorway, spicy sausages and fresh-baked bread.
Im starving, Charlotte grumbled. Tell me again why were out walking in the rain instead of having an early dinner somewhere.
Because now that Ive increased my hours at the gallery, I dont have much time for shopping. Mamas birthday is next week and I want us to get her something special. Claire was a glassblower and shared a space in the Warehouse District with several other artisans. They took turns manning the gallery and using the studio and furnaces in the back, but because Claire needed the money, shed started working additional shifts in the showroom.
If times that tight, maybe we should just run into Canal Place and pick out a nice scarf or a bottle of perfume, Charlotte said. Or some gold earrings. Lucille loves jewelry.
Let me remind you that your idea of accessories is quite different from our mothers.
Youre right. Better forget the gold earrings. Subtlety has never been Lucilles strong suit. Charlotte smiled and her eyes crinkled charmingly at the corners. Even with her hair all windblown and damp, she was still the most beautiful woman Claire had ever seen. So what do you have in mind?
Theres a place on Chartres that has one of a kind dolls. I saw an ad for it in the paper recently.
Charlotte made a face. Please, not another doll! She already has forty gazillion lying around the house. She doesnt need another one.
Theres a place on Chartres that has one of a kind dolls. I saw an ad for it in the paper recently.
Charlotte made a face. Please, not another doll! She already has forty gazillion lying around the house. She doesnt need another one.
It isnt a matter of need, Claire gently chided. Its what she wants, and I think a fiftieth birthday warrants something special, dont you?
Well, when you put it that way. Ive got a little cash stashed away, but what about you? Now that youre single again, money must be tight.
Ill manage. My pieces are selling pretty well these days. Besides, if we find something special, Hughs agreed to chip in half. All you and I have to do is split the difference.
Charlottes mouth dropped in astonishment. How on earth did you talk Hugh Voorhies into coughing up that kind of cash? The mans so tight he squeaks when he walks.
I know, but hes crazy about Mama. He likes to complain about her dolls, but hed do anything to keep her happy.
Aint that the damn truth? Id really love to know that womans secret. Im serious, Charlotte said when Claire chuckled. Think about it, Claire. She smokes like a furnace, cusses like a sailor, dresses like a cheap whore and yet she always has some man crazy over her. I cant even get a date for my bosss fund-raiser on Saturday night. How does she do it?
Shes Lucille.
They waited for traffic to clear, then crossed the street and turned up Conti. Claire could smell the river behind them. The rain had cooled the air, and the lights coming on in the early twilight looked like a turn of the century French painting. It was the kind of soft, dreamy afternoon that made her glad shed come back to New Orleans after the flood. Not that she would ever seriously consider living anywhere else. She was third generation. Her grandmother had been born and raised in the same house that Claire now owned.
Ive been giving the matter a lot of thought, Charlotte said as she looped her arm through Claires. Her silk blouse clung damply to her small breasts, but she didnt seem to care anymore. Im Lucilles daughter. I must have inherited a little ofwhatever it is that shes got, so why am I still alone?
Youre asking me? The sister with two failed marriages?
Dont say that. Your second divorce isnt final yet.
Yes, but the waiting period is merely a formality.
It doesnt have to be. Just say the word and Alex would move back home in a flash.
Claire looked away, shook her head. Its too late for that.
Its never too late. And a man like Alex Girard doesnt come along every day. Take it from me, the world is full of losers, but thenI guess you already know that, dont you? Having been married to the biggest asshole of all time.
Charlotte.
Claires rebuke brought her sisters chin up in defiance. Well, Im sorry. I know were not supposed to talk about Dave Creasy, but I cant help it. Im never going to forgive him for what he did to you. Never.
Its ancient history. Let it go.
Charlottes mouth thinned. If only that were true. But hes the reason you could never fully commit to Alex. Dont even bother to deny it, because I know you better than you know yourself.
Then you must also know that I dont want to talk about either of my ex-husbands, Claire replied in exasperation. I just want to spend the rest of the day shopping with my sister.
Okay, Ill make you a deal then. I wont mention he-who-shall-remain-nameless for at least, oh, another twenty-four hours if youll agree to come with me to the fund-raiser on Saturday night.
Why in the world would you even want me there? Im terrible at parties.
I know you are, but thats kind of the point. Now that youre single, you need to get out more. You spend way too much time puttering around alone in that old house. Its just not healthy. But Charlottes expression turned contrite. I do have an ulterior motive. If I show up at the fund-raiser by myself, people will know I couldnt get a date. If I bring you, theyll think Im a good sister trying to help you through a rough patch.