And she put up with my moods.
I realized with a flush of shame that I had not even asked if Bette had found a place for her and the girls. I whipped out my phone.
Cole: Found a house yet?
I knew she’d been looking in the Woodvale school district so Emmaline and Eleanor would have that as an option, but I told her she’d be disappointed. Lusher Elementary in New Orleans was still better. I was prepared to offer her a stipend for private school tuition, and I’d told her as much.
Bette: Two days before I found yours. Why are you worrying about this on a Saturday???
Smirking at her sass, I shook my head.
Me: What else am I going to worry about on a Saturday?
This was a joke. Bette knew I had plenty to worry about, and the day of the week changed none of it.
Bette: How about The Green Door exhibit with your friend Ross?
Oh, shit.
That was tonight. I’d completely forgotten. Ava’s original plans had been to fly in Sunday morning, but Delta had cancelled its one flight out of Minneapolis to Atlanta on Sunday, which would have left Ava in a strange city for her first night after treatment.
I wasn’t about to let that happen.
And, now, I wasn’t about to leave her alone on her first night back.
Bette: Let me guess. You forgot.
I sighed, hoping Ross would understand. It had been a couple years since I’d seen him, but we still kept in touch. He’d lived across the hall from my apartment back in college. We’d both been early morning swimmers. I could see the same person day after day, coming and going to the complex pool, and never say hello. Ross could not. He’d been friendly from the start. I’d pegged him as a Loyola student right off the bat, and I’d been right.
He’d understand. I’d invite him to lunch later this week.
Me: I forgot. But it’s not entirely my fault. Ava’s getting back today.
Seconds after I pressed send, my phone rang. Of course, it was Bette.
“Hello?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?! I would’ve rearranged your schedule and ordered a grocery delivery.” Of all things, Bette sounded offended. As if my lapse had been intended as a personal affront.
“Bette, relax. It’s fine—”
“Are your dishes even unpacked? Is her bed made?
I sighed. Bette was amazing, but she was also a control freak. And when she felt out of control, look out.
“Turn-key service, Bette,” I reminded her. “The movers unpacked everything. Her bed’s been made since Thursday.”
In fact, the house on St. John Street looked like we’d lived there for years. Maybe it was because it was an actual house, not a condo. An older home, eighty-six years if the Clerk of Court documents were correct. But the kitchen and bathrooms had been updated recently. The wood floors gleamed with a new finish, and the house smelled of fresh paint.
And it felt like a home.
Our French Quarter luxury condo in Crystalline, where we’d lived since I’d graduated and opened the firm, had been sleek and elegant. But the slate gray paint and the exposed brick of the Bienville Street building had left me cold.
And the neighborhood had definitely been wrong for Ava.
Bette breathed an audible sigh. “Well, thank God for that. Do you want me to call Ross and cancel?”
I knew she was itching to take the reins and clean up the mess I’d made, but I wanted to explain the situation to Ross myself. It was just after four o’clock, which meant I’d be cancelling on him about two hours before we were supposed to meet. He’d called me Wednesday, after we’d made plans to go out, saying that the girl he was after had a showing at a gallery downtown, and was I okay starting the evening there and maybe going out after with this girl and her roommate?
