long time ago,â Calista said, âbut Iâve always been glad I didnât wait. Ever since I got that phone call from his parents, Iâve tried to live my life so that I had no regrets. You need to do that, too, Nessa!â
âFor once, Calistaâs right!â Hestia said. âYou listen to her, Nessa.â
âWhat regrets could I have? I have the two best aunts in the entire world.â Nessa stood hastily before Hestia and Calista could point out that a young woman should have more in her life than her family and her career.
Because maybe that was true, but Nessa had a goal.
Her darling aunts had mortgaged the house to pay for Nessaâs expensive education. They claimed it was well worth it, that sheâd brought them such pleasure they were in debt to her.
But Nessa knew better. Every day her aunts got up and spent the day cleaning, changing sheets, shopping for groceries, and the hundreds of tasks necessary to run their boarding house.
So she would pay them back, get the boarders out, and her aunts would never have to change another bed or make another breakfast.
âNow Iâm off to work and a fabulous new promotion.â Nessa kissed her aunts on their papery cheeks. âAnd tonight we party!â
Three
Easter was late this year, so Mardi Gras was late, too, and Nessa walked outside and into a humidity so dense she could taste it. Or maybe it was New Orleans she could taste. She caught the streetcar to the French Quarter, and hopped off at the Canal and St. Charles streets stop.
Eight oâclock was early enough that she could see only the exhausted shopkeepers sweeping the debris of last nightâs party into the gutter, the occasional tourist staggering toward his hotel, and Georgia Able, Nessaâs best friend from grade school and a police officer for the New Orleans police department.
Georgiaâs family had been in New Orleans as long as Nessaâs, at first as slaves, then as free blacks, and she knew every inch of the city. Her wide, melting brown eyes, slow drawl, and curvaceous figure hid a steel-magnolia personality that she used as skillfully as she used her service revolver.
Now she perched on a police horse, a riding helmet on her head, grimly surveying the streets from behind dark glasses, but at the sight of Nessa she smiled and lifted a hand.
Nessa stopped to pet Goliath. âThe parades start today.â
âDonât I know it!â Georgia said fervently.
âAre you still on shift from last night or are you going on now?â
âIâm going on shift now, but they called me in last night because the crowds were out of control. Iâm working on four hoursâ sleep, and Iâm about this farââGeorgia showed Nessa an inch between her thumb and forefingerââfrom strangling the first tourist who throws their beads at Goliath.â Leaning down, she patted his neck. âPoor boy, heâs as tired as I am.â
âFat Tuesday is only nineteen days away.â Nessa gestured toward a cart. âWant me to get you a café au lait?â
âNo, thanks. Iâve had so much coffee Iâm sloshing.â Georgia lowered her warm, gentle voice to a whisper only Nessa could hear. âAnd Iâm on the rag so I have to pee all the time, anyway.â
Nessa grinned. âWant me to make a sign? O FFICER WITH CRAMPS AND BLOATING . G O AHEAD , MAKE HER DAY .â
âCan you tell Iâm bloated?â Georgia slid her dark glasses down her nose, aimed a lethal glance at Nessa, and fingered her pistol.
âI didnât say that!â Nessa said in fake alarm. âYour bulletproof vest makes you look dangerous, not bloated.â
âFor true?â
âFor true. Just keep sayingâonly nineteen more days. Nineteen more days and the parades will be over, the tourists will be gone, and itâll be Lent once more.â
âNineteen more days, seven hundred