AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Another queer-friendly place will not go amiss,” Sloan said, holding her glass up for a clink against Clancy’s.
A clink that rattled a thought loose in Al’s mind.
A possibility.
Hope.
She stood and scooted out of the booth.
“Mama Al,” Greg said. “Where you going?”
She started opening drawers in the kitchen island, searching. “Pen and paper?” she asked when she didn’t find it in the first few, not as familiar with their kitchen as her own or the winery’s.
“Drawer beside the stove,” Greg said.
She crossed to the stove at the far end of the kitchen and found Greg’s current recipe pad, right where he said it would be. She ripped a blank piece of paper from the back and scribbled down Tchin Tchin’s address and Jen and Etienne’s phone number. She returned to the booth and pushed the piece of paper across the table to her kids.
“What is this?” Greg asked as Tony picked up the future Al desperately wanted them—and her—to have.
“Your speakeasy.”
Chapter Nineteen
Flying back to New Orleans from California on Christmas Day was a trick CC and Colby had learned after their first disastrous holiday travel season. That first year, they’d both been so tight on time, and Hanukkah had lined up just so, that they’d flown out Christmas Eve—a disaster—and back on Boxing Day—an even bigger disaster. Lesson learned. Flying back on Christmas Day also meant CC sometimes got an extra day off, depending on the firm holiday calendar. This year, though, she found herself at a bit of loss with the extra time. She’d expected to be working through it, gathering the final pieces of the Tchin Tchin deal to send to the title company. Instead, she was waiting on a call from Jenn and Etienne on whether they were moving forward at all.
She checked her phone one last time, then, seeing no emails or texts from them, she shoved the device in her jeans pocket, threw a sweatshirt over her tee, and made her way to the kitchen. She’d just started a pot of coffee when a knock sounded against the front door.
“No blender this morning,” she hollered, assuming it was her sister. She pulled two mugs down from the cabinet, then went to open the door, surprised Colby hadn’t let herself in. “I prom—”
“I can help with the no blender.” Al, in a paisley patterned maxi skirt and teal sweater, stood on her front porch, holding a familiar white and green bag. “Beignets. Won’t be as good as Colby’s, but they’ll do in a pinch.”
CC couldn’t help but laugh. No one had ever said those beignets would merely ‘do in a pinch.’ Credit to her sister, who yes, CC thought made better beignets too, but doughnuts, while tasty, were beside the point. “What are you doing here?” she asked Al.
“A peace offering.” She held up the bag again and, at CC’s cocked brow, added, “This is not all I have to offer. You’ll want to hear this, CC, and it smells like you’ve already got the coffee going.”
Yes, CC had sent Al a text on Christmas Eve, but they hadn’t spoken or texted since. What exactly did she have to offer? Would it move them forward, professionally and personally, or set them back? She recalled her Christmas Eve chat with Colby, the question her sister asked. The one that had been rattling around in CC’s head the past two days. Would whatever offer Al came bearing help solidify the answer, one way or the other?
She opened the door the rest of the way for Al to enter. Once inside, her eyes grew wide. “This is beautiful, CC.”
“It’s not the mansion you rent.”
“That I rent. I wouldn’t live there. It’s too big.” She cut CC a glance, then went back to surveying the surroundings. CC figured that Al, like herself, couldn’t help her interest in real estate and renovations. Was maybe even more interested than even the average real estate professional given her family’s ventures. She walked ahead of CC, through the living room and past the kitchen, where she dropped the bag of beignets on the granite island. She paused in the short hallway that led to the bedroom suite and glanced back, asking permission. CC nodded, and Al continued ahead. “Colby’s is a mirror?”
“In dimensions,” CC said. “We made individual adjustments inside our own units. Her kitchen is bigger, my bathroom is bigger.”
Al stuck her head in the CC sanctuary, as Colby called it, and whistled low. “You don’t say.”
“Typical shotgun double.”
“I don’t think this is typical.” Al ran a hand over the reclaimed wood that covered the wall behind her bed’s headboard. “Are these the old floors?”
CC nodded again. “Gloria saved them for us.”
“Greg’s general contractor?”
“Yep, she’s a miracle worker,” CC said of the woman who had transformed their fixer-upper into an oasis fit for two sisters who loved to be close but also needed their own space. But for how much longer? What would CC do with the space once she left? The thought of renting it to someone else made her stomach queasy. CC shook it off, focusing on the here and now instead, on the woman in her home. She led Al back to the kitchen. “Col and I rented for a year,” she said as she fetched mugs out of the cabinet and filled them with coffee. “We bought this place after Greg introduced us to Gloria. She just got it, how we wanted to transform the space yet keep the character.”
“Gloria’s amazing. She’ll do a great job on the speakeasy.”
