We stopped at the St. Louis Cathedral, the towering spires gleaming in the sunlight. “This is the oldest cathedral in the country.” I motioned toward the impressive structure. “But see those apartments with the cast-iron balconies? That style is a signature of the French Quarter, all thanks to the Baroness de Pontalba. She brought it over from France about a century and a half ago. The whole look and feel of the Quarter? Credit goes to her.”
I led him toward an apartment complex near the cathedral. “The baroness was born here in New Orleans. She fell in love with a local boy who didn’t have a penny to his name, so her family whisked her off to France and married her off to her titled cousin. Little did they know, he was broke and only in it for her fortune.”
Luke raised an eyebrow. “That’s... dramatic.”
“Oh, it gets better.” I leaned in for effect. “Her husband and his father constantly plotted to take her money. When she resisted, they locked her away in their château near Paris. One day, her father-in-law shot her four times in a fit of rage before turning the gun on himself.”
Luke looked stunned. “And she survived?”
“Not only did she survive, but she got a divorce and came back here to New Orleans. Once she was free of all that dead weight, she shaped the French Quarter into what we see today.”
I glanced at him and saw something in his expression shift, like the story had struck a chord. He studied me for a moment. “Have you ever thought about being a tour guide?”
The question caught me off guard. I let out a small laugh, suddenly aware of how much I’d been talking. “Not really. I guess I just remember the story from school.”
We stepped into Jackson Square, where the atmosphere was alive with tarot card readers, street musicians, and artists showcasing their work. The air hummed with energy, and I couldn’t help but feel the tug of possibility.
Luke turned to me, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “How about we get our fortunes told?”
I hesitated, looking at the colorful array of fortune tellers set up around the square. “You know, I’ve never actually done that. Do you believe in that stuff?”
He shook his head. “Not really, but it seems like the thing to do here. You in?”
I grinned, already scanning the options. “Why not?” Leaning closer, I whispered, “Who should we pick?”
Luke pointed toward a woman adorned in a vibrant head wrap and an outfit that seemed to belong on a movie set. “How about Madame Aphrodite over there?”
I led the way, trying not to laugh at the exaggerated way she gestured us over. “Hi there. My friend here is curious about a tarot-card reading. How much do you charge?”
She sized us up, her oversized feather boa brushing against the cards laid out on her table. “For you, a suggested fifty-dollar donation,” she said, her voice dripping with drama.
I choked a little, blinking. “Uh, do you take credit cards?”
She rolled her eyes, waving her hand dismissively. “Darling, do I look like I have a card machine hidden in my turban? Next, you’ll ask if I take crypto.”
Luke pulled out a bundle of bills as if it were nothing. “I’ve got cash.”
I grabbed his wrist, whispering, “Put that away. Do you want to get mugged?”
Madame Aphrodite beckoned us with a dramatic flourish. “Sit, my darlings. We must build a fortress of energies to protect us.”
Luke murmured, “Protect us from what, exactly?”
Madame Aphrodite shot him a look of dramatic disdain. “From malevolent spirits, of course. Now, sit.”
Luke immediately gestured to me with a sly grin. “Ladies first.”
I stared at him flatly but relented with a sigh. “Fine.”
I’d always been skeptical about tarot-card readings. Growing up in New Orleans taught me to respect the unexplainable. Madame Aphrodite waved her hand over the deck, sprinkling herbs that smelled suspiciously like my aunt’s kitchen. Her bangles clinked loudly as she spoke, her voice dripping with drama. “What question would you like to ask the cards, my dear?”
I hesitated, trying to keep things light. “What does the future hold for me?”
Her eyes sparkled as though I’d just handed her a lottery ticket. “Ah, an excellent question.” She spread three cards face down with deliberate flair. “These cards represent your past, your present, and your future. Let’s begin. Flip the first card.”
I flipped it over and saw an image of a lone figure walking away from a scattered arrangement of cups.
Madame Aphrodite leaned in as if she were about to divulge the secret of life itself. “Behold, the Eight of Cups. This card speaks of moving on. It’s time to leave behind the energy-draining ties of the past.” Her gaze bore into me. “You’re carrying guilt, aren’t you?”
