“Luke, we don’t have to change anything,” said Sophia Ann. “I’m happy just being here with all of you. I know now what this must have felt like for the others. It’s like a safety cocoon for all of us.”
“Cam,” smirked Luke, “do you and Eric remember when we spilled the entire pitcher of grape juice on the carpet in the library?”
“Lord, do I,” said Eric, shaking his head. “I was so worried we were going to be punished for that.”
“You weren’t?” frowned Hex.
“Brother, my grandma sat us down on the carpet and started pointing out all the mistakes that had been made by kids over the years.”
“That’s right, I did,” smiled Irene staring at the group. “I told you about oil stains that the boys tracked in after workin’ with their daddy. The lipstick stain from Marie and Claudette when they knew they wasn’t supposed to be wearin’ lipstick. Thought they could fool me by havin’ it under the table. All they did was drop it and then step on it.”
“Oh, my,” laughed Ajei. “I’ll bet that didn’t go over well.”
“Children learn if you teach them. Yellin’ never got anybody anywhere. You speak to them, like humans, like little adults. You teach right from wrong and that there are punishments for their mistakes. They all had to clean the carpets and learned that lesson,” she said with a sad smile. She walked over toward the fireplace and knelt down in her ghostly form.
“Look here. The big scratches in the wood. That was Pierre’s attempt at learning to ice skate.”
“Ice skate? What in the world?” frowned Gwen. “Where would he be able to ice skate?”
“There was an old rink in town and he wanted to be a big hockey player. Turns out he wasn’t very good at ice skating but he thought the shiny wood floors looked like ice and might act like ice. So, he decided to give it a try.” She laughed, shaking her head. “That boy fell face forward when the blade stuck in the wood. He had a busted lip and I had a floor with a seven-inch gash from a skate blade in it.”
“Irene, that’s sad and funny at the same time,” smiled Kate.
“This chip in the marble on the mantel? Jean and Antoine testin’ out their new football helmets. Lord, I nearly killed ‘em for that one. The mantel can’t be replaced. And I didn’t want to. Each mark, each scratch, each chip is a memory for me. It reminds me of how far we’ve all come.”
“Well, that settles it for me,” said Gwen. “I don’t want to change a thing. It’s perfect even with its tiny imperfections. I love it just like this.”
“Same,” nodded Ajei. Kate and Sophia Ann smiled at the others, agreeing.
“That was the easiest remodel in the history of remodels,” said Eric.
“Good, good,” said Irene. “Now that we’re done with that business, let me show you a few more secrets to this old house.”
They followed her into the library, already impressive beyond their imagination. They’d all spent time there as children, except Hex and Gwen who came to Belle Fleur as adults. If you needed a book, it was in that library and there was something absolutely magical about being in there alone, reading quietly without all your siblings or the other kids yelling at you.
“This here is Matthew’s great-grandmother, Adela Penelope St. John Robicheaux.”
The painting stretched from the ceiling to the floor, neatly tucked between bookcases. The woman showed the telltale signs of being a Robicheaux, with auburn waves of hair, whiskey-colored eyes, and lush, full lips.
“Very regal,” smiled Eric.
“She was a very regal lady indeed. Her family was extremely wealthy, carryin’ old money from France to New Orleans. A beautiful lady on the inside as well.”
“I always thought she looked like a queen,” smiled Luke.
“Like I said, regal,” nodded Irene. “But this is what you need to see.” She gently pulled on the painting and it opened like a door, revealing, a door.
“What in the world?” asked Luke staring at the door.
“There are things stored in here that others might not understand,” said Irene.
“Things? Like what kinds of things, Grandma?” asked Luke.
“Like books with information in ‘em that people might get upset if they see. You know, things like how to mix certain herbs and things.”
Eric touched the books and wondered how they’d stayed so perfect in the damp, musty space behind the painting. Then he realized the entire space was a comfortable temperature.
“There’s heat and air in this space,” he said looking around the narrow hallway.
