She couldn’t spend her morning agonizing over whatever was eating at Kendra, not with her mile-long to-do list. But she and her sister would be having a heart-to-heart soon. This couldn’t go on.
She went to her bedroom—formerly her parents’ room—and changed out of the worn LSU Veterinary Medicine T-shirt she’d slept in last night and into a lilac Barkingham Palacepolo shirt. After slipping on a pair of jeans and stuffing her feet into her favorite pair of Skechers, she gathered her microbraids at the nape of her neck and secured them with her black hair tie.
She checked to make sure the oven was off, then gave the kitchen one last look. She had to get another space. If she had known three years ago when she’d found the building that currently housed Barkingham Palace that she would get into the dog treat–making business, she would have opted for a place with enough room to build an industrial kitchen. Duchess Delights had taken over their entire home.
She had her eye on two possible buildings for her new venture. The one shereallywanted was in the city’s Lower Garden District and so far beyond her price range that the James Webb telescope wouldn’t be able to see it. She had settled on the two-story double-gallery house five blocks away from the daycare’s current location. The place needed some work, so she was waiting for the asking price to go down before she made an offer.
Now that she was sure she wanted to take Duchess Delights to the next level, she would have to make a move soon.
“Youaresure, right?” Ashanti whispered.
What was she talking about? Of course she was sure. The best way to capitalize on this newfound success and maximize profitability would be to invest back into her business.
As she made her way to the car, her phone buzzed. Ashanti pulled it from her pocket and glanced at the screen. It was a text from Kara.
Duchess and Puddin’ are snuggled up again on the doggy cam. Those two need to get a room.
Ashanti grinned as she texted back.Tell me about it. I couldn’t get my own dog to come home last night. She didn’t want to be away from her boyfriend.
She slipped in behind the wheel.Put your phone away and pay attention in class.
Kara responded with a thumbs-up emoji.
Ashanti took the longer way to work, traveling through the half-dozen blocks of the Faubourg Marigny and into the Bywater neighborhood, all so she could check in on the house that had gone up for sale six weeks ago. It was so big that it would allow her to double the size of the daycare and create a storefront for Duchess Delights.
She stopped at the corner of Clouet and Royal Streets and stared longingly at the yellow creole cottage with gray gingerbread trim. To her disappointment, a sign proclaimingNEW LOWER PRICEhad not been added to theFOR SALEsign overnight.
“That’s okay, my beauty,” Ashanti said. “I’ll have you soon enough. You will look stunning in purple.”
Less than five minutes later, she pulled into the narrow driveway between Barkingham Palace and the house belonging to the daycare’s neighbor, Mrs. Short. The retiree, who owned more cats than Ashanti could keep count of, sat on the top step leading to her house, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette.
“Morning, Mrs. Short,” Ashanti called with a wave. Unlikeothers in the neighborhood, Mrs. Short had never given her permission to address her by her first name.
“One of those dogs took a shit in front of my house,” the woman called back.
Ashanti said the second line of the Serenity Prayer.
“I doubt it was one of the dogs at Barkingham Palace. Our dogs are only allowed to roam around the backyard, not on the street. And the staff cleans up after each dog. Always.”
Mrs. Short huffed and went back to her cigarette.
Maybe Ashanti shouldn’t wait for the price to drop on her new place in the Bywater after all. Her future neighbors had to be more amiable.
As she approached the daycare’s front door, she was reminded to get in touch with the artist she’d commissioned to replicate the mural of the iconic wrought-iron gates that surrounded London’s Buckingham Palace. She would need the same feature at her new place. Lately, it had become a sought-after background for the Instagram selfies of tourists.
The same artist who had painted the outside mural had painted the reception area to look like one of Buckingham Palace’s staterooms, with faux columns on the walls and filigree in place of crown molding. A portrait of her favorite California-based royals hung on the wall above the chew toy display.
“Morning,” Ashanti muttered as she approached the reception desk.
“Morning to you too,” Deja said. She tipped her head out from behind the monitor. “You don’t seem your usual chipper self. What’s going on?”
“Monday is showing its ass.”
“Yeah, well, brace yourself because you’re about to see a bit more of Monday’s ass.”
“Not yet.” Ashanti covered her ears with her palms. “Let me at least love on the dogs before giving me any bad news.”
Deja wiggled her fingers toward the door that led to the rest of the daycare. “You get ten minutes. Then you can address this letter from the councilman’s office. It looks as if our neighbor reported us.”
