* * *
Tonya parked on the street in front the two-story brick Southern-style farmhouse where Hannah lived with her husband. Driving through the Lower French Quarter to Faubourg Marigny was like stepping back in time with streets lined with handsome Creole-style cottages. She found herself falling more in love with her adopted city with each passing day. She wasn’t certain whether it was the slower pace, warmer winter weather, the cornucopia of sights and sounds, along with the food, friendly people—or all of the above. She no longer felt like a tourist driving slowly along streets and avenues to find a particular neighborhood with the assistance of her vehicle’s navigational system.
The front door opened as she exited the Honda, and Hannah walked out onto the porch. The portico light fixture bathed her in a halo of gold.
This was her second visit to St. John’s home. The first was last July when she, her daughter, Nydia, and Jasmine drove down to visit with Hannah. St. John had been the designated host for his family’s reunion, and he invited Hannah’s guests to sleep over at his house rather than go back to the DuPont House. The reunion began with an early morning breakfast, and the celebrating continued with ubiquitous New Orleans dishes, music, and dancing. Tonya had volunteered to assist Eustace when they grilled together in the outdoor kitchen. While some homeowners had dismantled their outdoor kitchens, St. John and Hannah had elected to keep the structures. And Tonya could think of nothing better than cooking outdoors year-round.
Hannah extended her arms and hugged Tonya. “Did you have a problem finding this place?”
Tonya returned the hug. “No. I remembered certain landmarks when you drove us here last year.”
Wrapping an arm around Tonya’s waist, Hannah led her inside the house. “I can’t believe so much as happened since last year.”
“The most momentous being you getting married.”
“And don’t forget you moving down here to open a restaurant,” Hannah reminded Tonya. “And I’m praying that will happen before the end of the year. When I first moved back I found myself obsessing about converting the house into an inn before Mardi Gras, but now I realize that was totally unrealistic.”
Tonya followed Hannah into the kitchen, where she had set a table for two. She suspected Hannah did not want to eat alone while her husband was out of town. It was apparent her friend had quickly grown accustomed to sharing her life with another person. Tonya had been single so long that she was accustomed to living by herself.
She communicated with Samara several times a month, because she didn’t want her daughter to think she was monitoring her whereabouts or prying into her life. One time she didn’t contact her for two weeks and Samara called her in a panic, believing something had happened to her. Tonya relieved her daughter’s anxiety when she revealed a former co-worker had asked her to help him launch his new restaurant in a newly gentrified Brooklyn neighborhood while she was still employed by Wakefield Hamilton. She had gone directly from the bank’s kitchen to his, and when she returned home close to midnight it was to collapse fully dressed across her bed. She woke at dawn, showered, and dressed to do it all over again until he found someone to replace her. His flagship restaurant had been so successful that two years later he opened a second one in Brooklyn Heights.
Hannah set a bowl filled with salad greens, chick peas, avocado, cherry tomatoes, thinly sliced Bermuda onion, Kalamata olives, capers, and marinated artichoke hearts on the table. “I know how much you like having salad with your dinner.”
“To tell you the truth, I could have salad for breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” Tonya confessed as she made her way to the bathroom off the kitchen to wash her hands.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror over the vanity. It was time for a haircut; she made a mental note to call Callie and make an appointment. Shorter hair complemented the shape of her face and her lifestyle, because she no longer had to search for hair bonnets large enough to fit over her then braided hair when cooking.
“Do you want wine, sweet tea, water, or lemonade?” Hannah asked when she returned to the kitchen.
“I’ll have water.”
“You really do eat healthy.”
“Not that much. I had wine last night.”
Hannah filled a pitcher with water from the dispenser on the refrigerator door. “What were you celebrating?”
“Actually, nothing. Gage came over to talk to me, and we ended up cooking and eating together.”
Hannah went still. “You and Gage Toussaint?”
Tonya met her startled gaze. “Yes. Why?”
Setting the pitcher on the table, Hannah pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “I . . . I don’t know. Somehow I can’t imagine you and Gage together.”
A shiver of annoyance snaked its way up Tonya’s spine as she glared at Hannah. “There’s nothing to imagine because there’s nothing going on between Gage and me.”
Hannah didn’t seem the least bit affected by her sharp tone when she smiled. “Not yet.”
Tonya frowned. “Why would you say something like that?”
“I don’t know Gage that well, but from what I’ve observed, he’s rather standoffish when it comes to women. I met him for the first time when St. John took me to Jazzes before you guys came down, and I’ve lost count of the number of women trying to get him to notice them.”
“Maybe it’s because he was involved with someone.”
Hannah made a sucking sound with her tongue and teeth. “If Gage’s involved with anyone, then it’s with himself.”
“Why would you say that?”
