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Chapter 11
“For a girl who spent the morning at the spa, you don’t look very relaxed.”
Alessandra and Toni were sitting at their favorite table at Le Trousseau. The owner fancied himself somewhat of a New Orleans connoisseur. It was on his suggestion that the two had first visited the Crescent City, and for that Alessandra would be forever thankful. Like New Orleans, Stone Haven had expanded its original settlements—though Main Street was no French Quarter—around the curved shape of the river, then ran alongside it. The similarities pretty much ended there, however. In Stone Haven, there was no ability to get lost in a crowd. Every crowd was a group of friends, acquaintances, and friends of friends. There was no better example of that than their current surroundings. Alessandra knew nearly every person seated around them at lunch. She’d listened in on the conversations around her while waiting for Toni to arrive, thanks in part to her new keen sense of hearing, and discovered the mysterious Lawrence Derrickson was the new bartender at Amendment 18.
Why would a man who’d purchased the Addy Hutton Mansion need a bartending job? Good question. But one that paled in comparison to the litany of questions she planned to ask Kenton that night.
“You have no idea,” she muttered.
“Nice day. At least it stopped raining so we could sit outside.”
Had it rained earlier? Alessandra was so caught up in thought she hadn’t even noticed the wet patches of grass dotting the sidewalk every so often.
The waitress unceremoniously plopped down two waters before moving on to the next table.
“You put in our orders?” Toni asked.
She nodded.
Not only was the food here delicious, but Le Trousseau had the distinction of being just a block away from Curiosities. If business was slow enough, Toni was sometimes able to slip away to meet Alessandra for lunch in the summer, but she hated to be away for too long. As was their custom, Alessandra arrived early and placed their orders.
“So . . . what happened?”
“You won’t believe me if I tell you.”
“Try me.”
“Somehow Kenton managed to dissuade my masseur from actually performing his duties.”
Toni scrunched her nose. “Meaning?”
“Meaning he snuck into Sunset Spa—”
“Wait. What?”
“Right? I should have run for the hills—”
“Let me guess. You stayed put.”
She didn’t seem very surprised. Then again, Toni was her soul sister. They kept nothing from each other, and this would be no exception.
“Kind of.”
She took a deep breath and spilled it all. To her credit, Toni merely sipped her water as if Alessandra were recounting a day in the classroom. She did, however, look more than a little relieved Lawrence was likely not a psychopath.
“I literally don’t know what to say.”
“That,” Alessandra answered, “makes two of us.”
“Oh, Birdie wanted me to tell you, she made some headway in her research.”
“Good. Because so far my searches for ‘Cheld’ have produced squat, other than as an ancient Scots word for ‘child.’ I’ve even considered heading to the university library.”
“What’s that?” Toni teased. When Alessandra had first started working on her PhD, Toni had once accompanied her to the stacks where untransferred microfiche was stored. In recent years, the stacks had been used less and less, but sometimes good old-fashioned sleuthing had to be done, well, the good old-fashioned way.
“She didn’t say much else, just to let you know she’s working on it.”
Alessandra shrugged. “I’m not overly hopeful we’ll find anything. The internet has failed me this time.”
