“Have you given any more thought to investing in the inn with me and Hannah?”
Jasmine’s eyebrows lifted slightly at the same time a smile trembled over her lips. “I’ve been giving it some thought, but . . .” Her words trailed off.
“But you don’t want to leave your folks,” she said, finishing her statement. Jasmine nodded. Tonya understood her friend’s reluctance to move more than a thousand miles away from her parents. She had become an empty nester and at the same time her parents moved to a Florida retirement community in Daytona Beach; however, she made it a practice several times a year to drive to Atlanta and pick up Samara to visit with her daughter’s grandparents.
“Thirteen hundred miles between New York and New Orleans is just too much in the event of an emergency,” Jasmine said.
“Have they talked about leaving New York?”
Jasmine paused. “I know Daddy was talking about moving back to North Carolina, but he says it’s just talk.”
“Perhaps he’ll change his mind one of these days,” Tonya predicted.
“Who’s going to change their mind?” Nydia asked as she walked into the parlor and flopped down on the loveseat next to Jasmine.
“My father,” Jasmine answered.
Tonya stared at Nydia’s puffy eyes. “It’s really not nice to say, but you look a hot mess.”
Nydia closed her eyes. “I know. I think I had too much champagne.”
“You think? How much did you have?” Jasmine asked.
Nydia’s lids fluttered. “I stopped counting after the fifth glass.”
“Damn!” Tonya said under her breath. “You’re an accountant, but it appears that you have a problem with adding.”
Nydia moaned softly. “Please don’t remind me of that.” She moaned again. “It feels as if someone is playing congas in my head.”
Jasmine placed the back of her hand to Nydia’s forehead. “You don’t have a temperature, so you’re probably hungover.”
“I’m never drinking champagne again,” she said, grimacing. “But I have to admit Hannah and St. John really know how to throw a party.”
Tonya nodded in agreement. Everything about Hannah and St. John’s wedding, cocktail hour, and reception was nothing short of perfection—all of which made her look forward to relocating with the excitement of a child opening presents on Christmas morning. Working in restaurants, or assisting the head chef at the bank, paled in comparison to opening her own establishment, and she looked forward to the challenge of taste-testing recipes that would eventually end up on the supper club’s menu, while hiring and training a kitchen staff and musicians to play live music on weekends would prove less challenging. After all, New Orleans was filled with musicians looking for work as a permanent house band.
Nydia pushed to her feet. “I’m going to get some coffee. Would anyone else like a cup?”
“Not me,” Tonya said.
“I’ll pass, too,” Jasmine added.
Once Nydia returned to the parlor, the three women talked at length about Hannah’s plan to turn her ancestral home into a business. Jasmine continued to voice her opposition to investing in the venture because she did not want to relocate, while Nydia continued to be ambivalent about leaving her boyfriend.
Hours later, Tonya stood on the porch watching the taxi as it drove away with her friends for their return flight to New York. She would follow them in two days, and once she put her affairs in order she would return to New Orleans—this time to begin the next phase of her life.
