Priceless (21 page)

“The constant partying.”

Kat laughed. “You’re from Manhattan, right? Well, aren’t there parts of Manhattan that are buzzy like the French Quarter?”

Charlotte looked doubtful. “Well, sometimes, but never like
that all the time. It’s Sunday night, no special event, and it’s like a parade back there.”

“New Orleans is all about parades, but yeah, I guess it is a little unusual. The French Quarter is a special place. But New Orleans is much more than just that part. You’ll see. And yes, you get used to it, especially if, like me, your family business is in the Quarter. I just allow time to get from one end to the other, especially if it’s after ten
A.M.
, or the weekend or, heaven forbid, Mardi Gras.”

They had left the French Quarter and were in what Charlotte recognized as the Garden District. Wrought-iron fences just managed to keep the lush greenery of the gardens in check, and large, elegant houses could be seen set well back from the street. Some were floodlit, some still had all their lights on, and others were silent and dark.

“Here’s us.” Kat turned into one of the larger gardens.

“What? This is your ‘little place’?”

Kat giggled. “No, dumbass, I have the back house.” She led the way through the garden, onto a brick path that ran alongside the house. Tucked in the back was a smaller, one-story building. Wisteria covered the front, and the red brick façade was punctuated with small white windows.

Charlotte sucked in her breath. “Oh, my God, I’m going to have a cute attack. Everything’s going dark.”

Kat laughed. “I know, adorable, right? When my dad said he had a friend who had somewhere for me to stay, I had visions of a cellar or something.” She shrugged as she fished in her purse for the key. “What can I say? I’m the pampered favorite child of a rich southern gentleman. I cannot change who I am.”

She pushed open the door, and Charlotte stepped in. And fell
in love.

THE BACK HOUSE
had originally been for servants, but they must have been pretty appreciated servants, for the main room stretched maybe thirty feet from side to side. A large fireplace anchored one end, while French doors lined the walls on both sides.

“You need to be able to open the whole thing up in the summer, because it’s so hot and humid. A breezeway was the only air conditioning they had back then.” Kat pointed out the other features of her obviously much-loved home. “A fireplace was necessary for heating water and because occasionally the nights get cool.”

Charlotte looked around. “Is it just this one room? Where do you sleep?”

Instead of answering, Kat led the way around the corner. Tucked in an ell was a small kitchen with a charming skylight and a short hallway leading to two small bedrooms. Wide plank floors and deep windows showed how old the building was, and the simple furnishings were in keeping with the period.

“Wow, you should be an interior decorator, dude. This place is awesome.”

Kat grinned. “Thanks. It’s all part of my urge to style everything. I love this place. I couldn’t be happier. I’m glad you like it, too.” She sighed. “Now, let’s have a drink. Allow me to introduce you to the Sazerac, a local specialty.”

When Charlotte eventually fell into bed, her head spinning, she realized she hadn’t thought about her father all day. She wondered if he was thinking of her.

Charlotte didn’t need to be at the restaurant until mid-morning, so the next day she accompanied Kat to her store. They split some coffee cake and opened up Kat’s laptop, checking the horrible Web site.

Charlotte shivered. “OK, that’s creepy. And slightly embarrassing.”

The front-page picture on the site was her emerging from the alley behind the restaurant. A high-powered lens had obviously been used, because every detail of her greasy hair was highlighted, and in case you’d missed it, the commentary was acerbic.

“How the mighty have fallen! The former socialite Charlotte Williams has turned to working in a kitchen to make ends meet (guess no one wanted to pay to fuck her anymore), and it’s not the best look she’s ever offered us. Nice hair, Charlotte! It must be quite a shock, ladies and gentlemen, to have to work for a living instead of living off stolen money. Meanwhile, Bitch Watcher hears that Jacob Williams was attacked in jail yesterday and had to be taken to the infirmary. How nice to see two fat cats finally get what they deserve!”

Charlotte was already dialing her father’s lawyer.

“It’s true, I’m afraid.” Bedford seemed a little distant on the
phone, but maybe she was imagining it. “Someone pushed into him in some line or other and stuck him with a shiv, or a skiv, or whatever it is they call it. A sharp instrument of some kind.” He rolled over Charlotte’s nervous questions. “He’s fine, Charlotte, and probably safer in the infirmary than he is in the general population.”

Charlotte took a breath. “I thought you were going to try to get him moved to a minimum-security facility, Arthur.”

The lawyer sighed. “This
is
the minimum-security facility, Charlotte. It’s still jail, you know. I can hardly request that he serve his time in Turks and Caicos, can I?”

IT TOOK A
while for Charlotte to calm down, but eventually, she pulled it together.

“I’m so tempted to go back to New York, to be nearer to him.”

“Well, unless you pretend to be a guy, get arrested for something, and somehow get sent to the same jail, you’re not going to be able to help him,” Kat said. “I’m not making light of it. I realize how awful this must be for you, but I’ll be blunt. He broke the law, right?”

Charlotte nodded sadly.

“Well, as my schoolteachers would have said, and probably did, if you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime.”

“My teachers said that, too.”

“Well, there you go then. If you want, I can help you drag up, and I’ll drive a getaway car very slowly so you’ll get caught.”

Charlotte imagined the scene and started to laugh. “I got lucky meeting you. There aren’t many people who would offer
to be a really inefficient criminal sidekick after less than a week of knowing someone.”

Kat smiled. “Well, maybe they lack imagination. I’m doing a whole mental review of the wardrobe in
Bonnie and Clyde
. That cream beret she wore almost makes jail worth it.”

Charlotte wandered around the store, flipping through the clothes. “You have a commitment to fashion that is awe-inspiring.”

“Why, thank you.”

She changed the subject, wanting to stop talking about her father. “What is your sister doing now? Is she in college still?”

Kat shook her head, “No, she’s in medical school. She’s a high achiever, is Janey. She has her whole life planned out: doctor by thirty, married by thirty-three, kids at thirty-six and thirty-eight, move to private practice … I’m not sure I remember much beyond that. It’s weird. I barely know what I’m going to have for lunch.”

Charlotte was intrigued. “I wish I had a sister. Even if she was super-anal and organized.”

Kat started folding vintage T-shirts, and Charlotte stepped over to help. “Well, as I said, seeing as she basically saved my life, I can hardly complain, but I wish she’d relax.” She sighed. “Mostly, I wish she’d come visit.”

“What about your mom? You haven’t mentioned her very much.”

Kat was quiet for a moment. “My mom is … challenging. You’ll see. I expect she’ll request your presence soon, and seeing as neither my dad nor I can refuse her anything, you’ll have to come along and be inspected.”

“Well, that sounds scary.”

“Don’t worry. You’ve been questioned by the FBI; it was probably good preparation. Did they torture you at all?”

“Only mildly.”

“Well, then, you’ll be fine.”

When Charlotte stepped out of the store a little while later, she was surprised to see a familiar face.

“Mr … uh … Robinson, isn’t it?”

The reporter from New York smiled. “It’s amazing what a good memory you have, Ms. Williams.”

“What are you doing here?”

He nodded. “I’m afraid I heard about your latest adventures online, and my editor sent me down to see if you’d agree to an actual interview. When I went to the restaurant, a waitress said you might be here.”

She started walking toward the French Quarter, and the reporter fell in alongside her.

“I don’t think I want to be interviewed, I’m afraid. For one thing, I don’t have anything newsworthy to say. My father has been jailed, and I’m trying to make a new life for myself.”

“Well, that’s exactly what would be interesting to our readers. How does a wealthy young woman start over? Are you really working in a kitchen?”

She nodded, subtly quickening her pace. He might be polite, but he was still the enemy, right?

“And how does it feel to be doing such demeaning work? How do the men in the kitchen treat you?”

She stopped and turned to face him. “Mr. Robinson, my colleagues
are not animals. They treat me with respect, because we’re all in the same boat, trying to earn a living. Unlike the people I grew up with, they judge my ability to work, not my ability to pay. Sadly, being rich and good at shopping doesn’t really qualify you for very much except more of the same. I’m just grateful they’ve given me an opportunity to earn some money. Now, I need to get to work. I really don’t have anything else to say. I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing.”

And with that, she turned away and set off at a brisk pace, leaving the reporter standing there, looking after her with a thoughtful expression. Then he grinned.

ANOTHER FRIENDLY FACE
was waiting for her at the restaurant: Millie Pearl.

Charlotte ran up and hugged her, and Millie beamed.

“You look better already, girl. The Crescent City works its magic once again, I guess.”

“How was your sister? Did you have a nice visit?”

“I did.” Millie sat down, and, after checking that it was OK with David Karraby, Charlotte joined her.

“I can’t sit for long, I have to get to work in the kitchen.”

Millie laughed out loud. “I can remember Greta making you wash dishes at home. Do you recall?”

Charlotte laughed. “I didn’t until you mentioned it, but now it comes back to me. You both were very insistent that I should clean up after myself. I used to bitch about it all the time, I certainly remember that.”

“Yes, you really did. You were pretty spoiled when I got there and not much less when I left. Your dad denied you nothing.”
Millie’s expression was indulgent, though. “He meant well.”

Charlotte looked at her curiously. “Do you think he’s a bad man? Did you leave because of what he was doing?”

Millie looked shocked. “Do you honestly think that if I knew what he was doing, I wouldn’t have reported him to the police? Lord, child, he embezzled millions of dollars!” She sighed. “Having said that, though, I don’t know that I think he is a bad man. I think he did a bad thing, but I don’t think he did it to hurt people. I think he just did it because he could. But I don’t really know, and probably no one does. All I know for sure is that he missed your momma terribly, and he loved you very much. Maybe those two things combined to make him feel it was OK to steal. Who knows?” She looked at Charlotte. “Jackson told me you found some film of your mother? Is that true?”