“And do you still leave dollar bills behind in vending machines?”
“I have less opportunity to come across vending machines now that I’m out of school.” When Cash gives her a look, her chin lifts defensively. “And before you make fun of me for being a bleeding heart, remember random acts of kindness are what separates us from the animals. At least that’s what Auntie June always says.”
“And how is Miss June?” I ask. Of Maggie’s two great-aunts, June was always my favorite.
“Still gardening and cooking and scandalizing Aunt Bea every chance she gets.” Maggie grins affectionately.
I chuckle, picturing the ornery twinkle that seemed to be a permanent fixture in Miss June’s aged eyes.
“So… Jackson Square?” Cash circles back around. “You in or out?”
“I suppose I’m in,” Maggie says. Her expression brightens as if the idea is growing on her. “Huh. Beignets followed by a trip to see the fortune-tellers, kitchen countertop shopping,anda second line tonight. I can’t tell you the last time I had a day like this. One that didn’t involve slinging booze or booking bands.”
“There’s a second line tonight?” Cash asks, one eyebrow cocked in curiosity. “What’s the occasion?”
“It’s in honor of Jelly Bean Jenkins.” Her face falls. “He died last week.”
You know how I said New Orleans is a city of sound? Well, most of that sound is music. On the streets, in the bars, echoing from speakers set out on balconies. Blues, jazz, zydeco, and bluegrass fill the air 24/7.
As you can imagine, that means we New Orleanians are a tad partial to our musicians. We’re as proud of those who gain international fame, like Fats Domino and Harry Connick Jr., as we are of those who are famous only to the citizens of the city.
Jelly Bean Jenkins is one of the latter…wasone of the latter. A staple at Preservation Hall, he could blow a horn with the best of them.
I remember meeting him for the first time after my mom moved us into town. Like so many musicians in the Big Easy, he spent Saturday afternoons busking down on Royal Street for extra pocket change. When my mom dropped a five-spot in his open trombone case, he grabbed her hand and kissed it.
NOLA might qualify as a city, but at the center of its hot, beating heart is a small town. Everyone knew about my mother back then. Knew about her andjudgedher. That Jelly Bean Jenkins, a man revered and respected, would make a show of accepting her brought a tear to her eye that day.
Brought one to mine, too, if I’m being honest.
“Damn.” Cash leans back in his chair. “Jelly Bean Jenkins. Haven’t thought of him in years. He was older than dirt even back when we were in high school.”
“He was ninety-six when he died,” Maggie says. “Just last year, I asked him the secret to his longevity. You know what he told me?” An impish grin tugs at her lips. “He said it was sober living.”
“Sober living?” Cash snorts. “Didn’t he walk around with a joint tucked behind his ear?”
“And another in his pocket,” she agrees.
The three of us burst out laughing.
“Just goes to show, I guess,” Maggie says.
“Show what?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I have no idea.”
We’re still laughing when Violet Carter stops beside our table, one hand planted on her hip. “Well, well, well,” she says. “Never thought I’d see the three of you together again.”
Courtesy has me standing and offering Maggie’s sister my hand. “Violet, it’s a pleasure to see you after all these years. You’re looking mighty fine, if you don’t mind me saying.”
I’m not lying, per se. Violetisan attractive woman, sharing Maggie’s thick black hair and slimly curved figure. But where Maggie’s eyes are sky blue, Violet’s are dusty gray. Where Maggie’s face is sweet and open, Violet’s is pinched and sour.
She looks me up and down. “I don’t mind at all. And you’re one to talk. Went and filled out, didn’t you? Got rid of that nasty acne.”
My teeth set. I’ve never been partial to Violet. Even though she was in my grade in school, and even though she never joined in when the other kids called me names or badmouthed my mom, neither did she come to my defense.
“Time has a way of making us better, doncha think?” I ask her.
“I guess that remains to be seen.” She turns away from me to level a look at Cash. “And Cash Armstrong. The army didn’t instill any manners in you? Don’t you know it’s polite to stand when a lady comes to your table?”
