The Cakes of Monte Cristo (5 page)

“I'm fine, Aunt Estelle,” Zoey put in. “Really.”

Estelle glared at me mutinously, but in the end she followed Sparkle and Dwight out of the room, leaving Zoey and me alone again.

“Sorry about Aunt Estelle,” the girl said. “She's sorta overprotective when it comes to me. So are you going to fire me?”

I stepped over the fallen boxes and piles of plaster and started up the stairs toward her. “Of course not. Accidents happen. The important thing is that everyone's okay.”

Zoey sniffed loudly and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “But the wall! It's ruined. And look what I did to the stairs!”

I was heartsick over the damage to the lovely old building, but I didn't want to make Zoey feel worse than she already did. I kept my face impassive as I stepped over the damaged
stairs and sat beside her. “The wall and the stairs can be fixed,” I said. “Let's just take a minute to catch our breath and calm down.”

Zoey inhaled deeply. Her shoulders rose for a moment and then sagged again. “Aunt Estelle is probably going ballistic.”

She might be right, but I gave her my most reassuring smile. “I'm sure she'll calm down soon.”

Far from being comforted, Zoey seemed even more dejected. She put her elbows on her knees and rested her chin in her hands. “She loves this place. She told me a dozen times not to screw up this chance, and look what I did on my very first day.”

I didn't understand why Zoey seemed so nervous about upsetting her aunt. I'd always considered Estelle harmless enough.
Just another sign of her insecurity
, I thought. “Well, for the record, you didn't screw anything up. I'll vouch for that. And I'm sure you'll do a great job for us.”

She slid a look in my direction. I couldn't be sure, but I thought there was a spark of hope in her eyes.

I wanted to see that spark grow and the only way I could help that happen was to show her that I trusted her. “When you're feeling up to it,” I said, “I'd like you to go downstairs and check those boxes to see if anything inside was damaged. I'll just make sure the rest of these stacks are sturdy.”

“You really aren't going to fire me?”

“Of course not,” I assured her again. The smile I gave her felt almost maternal—at least to me. “This is a minor setback, that's all.”

For a moment I thought Zoey might hug me, but she just got to her feet and started down the stairs. Instead of going all the way to the first floor, she stopped at the first step with a loosened board and leaned forward curiously. After a moment she hunkered down and pried off the board completely. “Hey, Rita, come and look at this. There's something inside here.”

I figured there must be at least a hundred years of dust inside, but since this was the first thing Zoey had shown any real interest in all morning, I moved cautiously down the stairs and craned to see over her shoulder. We were both right. The inside of the step was dusty, but I could also see a lump that clearly wasn't part of the structure.

“What do you think it is?” Zoey said in a hushed voice.

I shifted my position so I could get a better look. “I have no idea. Maybe somebody accidentally left a tool in there.”

Zoey frowned up at me. “I don't think so. It looks like it's wrapped up in cloth or something. I think it was put there on purpose. Like maybe somebody wanted to hide it.”

She had a point. The lump was nearly a foot long and several inches wide. It was hard to imagine any workman not noticing it there when he nailed the step in place. “Well, then I guess somebody did leave it on purpose,” I said. “I wonder why someone wanted to hide it here?”

Honest to goodness excitement lit Zoey's eyes. “I don't know. People do weird things. Wanna see what it is?”

Curiosity has always been one of my weaknesses, but despite what some people think, there's (usually) no harm in it. Besides, I rationalized, a little excitement would do Zoey good. “Sure. Why don't you grab it? We can check it out downstairs.”

Without the slightest hesitation, Zoey reached into the opening filled with grime and cobwebs and grabbed the package. Moving it stirred up a cloud of dust that had us both sneezing, but she gamely carried it down the stairs, pausing a couple of times to brush something on a step aside with her foot.

We gathered up a few items that had fallen out of the boxes as they tumbled downstairs, stacked everything in front of Edie's desk, and settled down to check our find. Now that I could see it better, I realized that the package
was smaller than I'd first thought. I held the bundle over the trash can, hoping it would catch most of the dust, and gently peeled away a layer of burlap. Beneath it we found a wooden box with an inlaid fleur-de-lis pattern on its lid.

I caught my breath and cut a glance at Zoey, who was leaning forward eagerly. “The workmanship is exquisite,” I said. “I think this box was hand-crafted.”

“Probably,” Zoey agreed. “It looks old, too. It's pretty, isn't it?”

“Very,” I agreed. “Now I'm
really
curious. Why would anyone would hide something this beautiful inside a stair?”

Zoey inched forward without lifting her eyes from the box. “Around here, people do weird things all the time. Should we open it?”

I hesitated for a moment. What if somebody had buried a dead pet in the box? I really didn't want to find Fido's skeleton inside. Then again, the box was too small to hold a cat or a dog. A beloved parakeet would easily fit, but who buries a pet inside their house?

Deciding the risk of finding a dead pet was minimal, I tried to open the box. The wood was swollen and stuck tight, but the harder it was for me to get inside, the more curious I became. Not to be defeated, I found a letter opener on Edie's desk and gently eased the sharp point beneath the box lid. It took me several tries but eventually the swollen wood gave way and I was able to pry off the ornate lid.

Inside, another small bundle lay wrapped in a piece of dark blue velvet. “Good grief,” I said with a grin. “It's like trying to find the end to a set of Russian nesting dolls.”

“Yeah, it's cool. And look at the material. It's velvet, right? So whoever put the box in the stairs must have had money.”

“Whoever lived in this house in the first place must have had money,” I said with a grin. “This wasn't exactly a pauper's house.”

“Whose house was it?”

“I don't know,” I said with a shrug. “Researching the history of this house has been on my to-do list for a couple of years, but something else always takes priority.” I mentally bumped that research higher on the list.

Zoey laughed and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “So come
on.
Open it. Let's see what these weird rich people hid.”

I removed the velvet, catching glimpses of red as I turned the package in my hands. When the cloth fell away, I gazed in stunned silence at a necklace made up of three rows of red stones varying in size. There must have been a dozen stones, maybe more. The effect was breathtaking.

“Oh. My. Gosh,” Zoey said breathlessly. “Are those rubies?”

“No,” I said. “I'm sure they're not. It's probably just a piece of costume jewelry.” Truthfully, I wasn't sure at all. I don't have much experience with precious stones, but it seemed unlikely that we would stumble across a valuable piece of old jewelry hidden inside the stairs at work. I mean, when does
that
ever happen?

Zoey gave me an odd look. “Why would somebody go to all that trouble to hide a worthless piece of jewelry?”

I gave her a “beats me” shrug and examined the necklace more carefully. “The settings look old. I wonder how long it's been in there.”

“Probably since the house was built,” Zoey said. “When was that?”

“I'm not sure,” I admitted.

“You really don't know anything about this place?”

I shook my head slowly. “I really don't.” I would have spent the next hour or two rectifying that on the Internet if the alarm on my phone hadn't chimed just then, reminding me that I was supposed to meet Simone for lunch at noon.

“I don't have time to figure it out right now,” I said, disappointed. I wrapped the necklace in the velvet and tucked it
back inside the box. “I have a lunch appointment and a lot to do before then, so let me at least show you how to answer the phone while I'm away. I promise I'll train you properly when I get back.”

I left Zoey sitting there while I went to the break room for the sodas I'd originally promised. I found a box of beignets on the counter, so I grabbed a couple of those, too. The coffeepot was nearly empty, so I started a fresh pot. Now that the initial shock had passed, I realized that my hands were shaking. The accident must have unnerved me more than I'd realized. I sat for a moment to catch my breath and tried not to think about the damage inflicted on that beautiful old building and whether our insurance would cover the cost of repairs. When my hands stopped trembling, I hurried back to the reception desk.

After handing a soda and a beignet to Zoey, I gave her a crash course on the phone system. She picked it up quickly and didn't seem flustered by the technology, which gave me hope that Estelle had been right about her.

A little while later, I hurried back into my office to gather the files I needed for my lunch appointment. I put the necklace on my desk, promising myself I'd find time to deal with it later.

When I'd rounded up everything I needed, I grabbed my bag and headed for the door but some whisper of caution made me stop. Following instinct or intuition, I went back to my desk and slipped the necklace into my bag. I didn't completely understand why I felt uneasy leaving the necklace behind. I only knew that I'd feel better if I had it with me. Experience had taught me to listen to those little nudges from the voices in my head. They're almost always right.

I arrived a few minutes early for my lunch meeting with Simone, so I sat at the bar while I waited for her, leafing through some of my notes and jotting down ideas for displaying the dress form cakes on the night of the ball. I'd regained my equilibrium after Zoey's unfortunate accident and I was determined to put it and the necklace we'd found out of my mind—at least until later.

I hadn't had time for breakfast that morning, so by the time Simone arrived, a few minutes after noon, I was ravenous. The hotel's restaurant was busy, but Simone has a presence I can't even hope to match. She immediately caught the hostess's eye and a few moments later we were seated at a quiet table far from other diners and the chaos of the kitchen.

We placed our orders—crab bisque (a creamy soup loaded with jumbo lumps of crab meat and pearls of tapioca) followed by pan-seared redfish in red wine matelote sauce for me; roast chestnut ravioli followed by grilled rack of
lamb with ricotta
cavatelli
for Simone—and launched into our planning session. While we ate, we adjusted service stations, member exhibits, and silent auction items on paper to fit our new location. Eventually, we worked out all the kinks and settled back to relax.

“So,” Simone said as she reached for her water glass. “Tell me what happened this morning. You seem a bit rattled.”

“Do I?” And here I thought I'd recovered completely. I wasn't used to having a friend who knew me well so her perception surprised me. “I guess I
am
a bit rattled. We had a new girl start this morning and she had an accident moving some boxes. I guess it threw me.”

Simone's eyes clouded with concern. “Nobody hurt, I hope?”

“No, thankfully, but there was some damage to the wall and the staircase. Luckily, we can get by using the back stairs for a few weeks.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Simone about finding the necklace, but I held back. I felt like I really should show it to Miss Frankie first, before I told anyone else.

“Of course, this happened at the worst possible time,” I added. “We've got the Belle Lune Ball in a couple of weeks and Mardi Gras season is already ramping up. We're going to be swamped for the next couple of months. Not that I'm complaining. I love that Zydeco is doing so well. But having to repair damage to the front stairs is going to make everything harder than it needs to be.” I sighed wistfully. “I really need Edie to come back to work.”

Simone smiled sympathetically. She'd listened to me vent about the temps who'd come and gone and she knew how much I relied on Edie to keep us organized. “Any chance of that happening soon?”

I shook my head. “I don't think so. I stopped by to see her last night and she's feeling completely overwhelmed. I'd
love to have her come back right away, but that's just me being selfish. She needs more time to get used to the whole motherhood thing. But enough about my problems,” I said with a determined smile. “What about your day?”

Simone smoothed a small wrinkle from the tablecloth. I knew her well enough by now to read a bit of tension in the action. “Busy, as always. Challenging. I could use a break, but things are only going to get more hectic before the ball is over.”

It wasn't like Simone to show signs of stress, and the frown on her usually serene face stirred up my natural tendency to worry. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Simone smiled and shook her head. “It's not a big deal, I swear. I hit this stage every year. About this time in January I vow I'll never work on the ball again, but then I'm right back, front and center, when the next season rolls around.”

“I can relate,” I said with a laugh. “But I'm here if you need to vent.”

“Thanks, but it's just the same old stuff, different year. Crazy society members, old rivalries flaring up. . . the usual stuff. Having to change locations is making it all a bit worse than usual, but it's just a new challenge, right?”

“Right.”

“I hope we don't have to do this again,” she admitted. “It's really brought the crazies out of the woodwork.” She ran her hands over the napkin on her lap and sighed softly. “So how bad is the damage to your staircase? Are you going to be able to get it fixed or is it more serious than that?”

The change of subject surprised me. I wanted to be a sounding board for Simone if she needed one, but I've never had a close girlfriend before and I'm still learning the ropes. I decided to take my cues from her and change the subject.

“I think it can be repaired,” I said. “I need to check our insurance, but even if we have a deductible I'm sure we'll be able to afford the work, thanks to the Vintage Clothing
Society. Money's not the big issue, but finding a spare week or two to let workmen swarm all over the place is another matter. Plus, I don't have the time right now to research contractors and find someone who's both good and reliable.”

“And qualified to work on a building with historic significance.”

“That too.” Truthfully, I hadn't even considered that until she mentioned it, and mentally doubled my estimates for repair cost and time.

“If it's not one thing, it's another,” Simone sympathized. “If you want a recommendation for a contractor, I could give you a couple of names.”

I nodded eagerly. “That would help a lot. Can you e-mail the names to me?”

“No need.” Simone dug around in her purse and pulled out a couple of business cards. “This would be my first choice,” she said, pushing one of the cards toward me. “We used this firm when we renovated part of the office last year.” She handed me a second card, adding, “If they're not available, this guy is almost as good.”

Intending to store the contact information on my phone, I reached into my bag. My hand brushed the cool wood of the box and I reconsidered my earlier decision. Simone was a friend. What could it hurt to show her the necklace?

I retrieved my phone and also put the box on the table between us.

Simone arched a delicate eyebrow. “That's exquisite. What is it?”

“Just a little something I found inside one of the broken stairs at Zydeco this morning. You want to see what it is?”

Simone leaned forward eagerly. “What kind of question is that? Of course I want to see.”

I opened the box carefully, unwrapped the velvet, and showed her the necklace.

Simone gasped and put a hand to her throat. Her eyes grew wide and darted between my face and the necklace.

“It's not real, of course,” I said quickly. “I mean, it couldn't possibly be. But it's pretty, don't you think?”

Simone's eyes landed on my face and stayed there. “I think you're wrong. I think those are rubies—very valuable rubies if I'm not mistaken.”

I had started to laugh, but her expression stopped my laughter with a gurgle. I'd never seen a real ruby before, but I was quite sure Simone had. Not that I thought she could value a stone with the naked eye or anything, but she had a better chance of identifying a genuine stone than I did. The only precious stone I'd ever owned was the diamond in my wedding set, and I hadn't worn those rings in years.

“How valuable?” I asked.

“Right now, very. Rubies have become so rare, they're worth more than twice as much as diamonds.”

I studied the stones in silence. “If they're real,” I said softly, “the necklace must be worth a fortune.”

“I'm sure it is,” Simone agreed. “It's clearly an antique piece, and it may even have a history that adds value. If I were you, I'd get it appraised. And I'd keep it somewhere safe until you know exactly what you have there.”

“I'll do that,” I said. “But I want to show it to Miss Frankie before I do anything. She owns the building, so technically, it belongs to her.”

“And you say your new temp is the one who noticed it first?”

I nodded slowly. “Yes. Why?”

“Do you think she'll try to claim some kind of finder's fee?”

I hadn't even considered the possibility. “Do you think she might?”

“If she thinks you've found something valuable, she might.”

I gave that some thought and finally shook my head. “I
can't imagine her doing such a thing. She's . . . well, she's quiet and unassuming and shy, and besides, she's Estelle's niece.”

Simone gave me a look that said she thought I was being naïve. “To the wrong kind of person, a family connection wouldn't mean anything.”

I was having trouble enough accepting the idea that we'd stumbled across a valuable piece of jewelry hidden inside the stairs. I was having even more trouble imagining Zoey as someone so greedy she'd try to claim a percentage of the necklace's worth. But suddenly my bag seemed a little heavier and the possibility that I was lugging around a fortune in vintage rubies made my head hurt.

Our server arrived with coffee and we fell silent until she disappeared again.

“Well, I hope you're wrong about Zoey,” I said then. “And frankly, I hope you're wrong about the necklace, too.”

Simone grinned and stirred cream into her cup. “I swear you're the only person I know who would feel that way. But out of curiosity, where are you headed after this? Back to Zydeco?”

I nodded. “I still have to train Zoey. Why?”

“I need to pick up some pieces from Orra Trussell at the Vintage Vault. She's been in business forever and knows everything there is to know about old jewelry. She might be able to tell you something about the necklace. I just thought you might like to ride over there with me.”

I considered the offer, but shook my head reluctantly. “It's tempting,” I said, “but I really think I should show it to Miss Frankie first in case there's someone else she'd rather take the necklace to.”

“Of course. Miss Frankie knows more people in New Orleans than I do. I'm sure she has a jeweler she trusts.”

Just then, something behind me caught Simone's attention.
She lowered her cup to the table and stood. I glanced over my shoulder and spotted a disheveled woman of about thirty winding through tables toward us. It took a moment for me to recognize the woman as Corinne Carver, an employee at the Vintage Clothing Society's French Quarter offices. I'd met her once or twice when I went there for meetings with Simone and her mother, but I wasn't sure what her job was.

“
There
you are,” Corinne almost snarled at Simone. “I've been looking all over for you.”

Simone gave her a worried smile in return. “Is something wrong, Corinne? You seem upset.”

That's my friend, a master of the understatement.

Corinne sighed heavily and made a visible effort to calm down. “You'll never guess who just left my office.”

“I won't even try,” Simone said. “What happened?”

“Natalie Archer, that's what happened. Do you know what she's done now? She's pushing everybody around, including me. She's not the only person who paid for display space at the ball, but now that the space is smaller, she's demanding that we cut the other displays so she can have the space she wants.”

“I'm sure it's a misunderstanding,” Simone said in her most soothing voice. “That can't be what she wants. She knows we can't do that.”

“It's
not
a misunderstanding,” Corinne insisted. “She thinks she's the queen of the world. I told her we couldn't do what she wanted and she threatened to ask the board to fire me.”

Simone sighed and nodded toward our table. “Maybe you should sit down and tell me exactly what happened.”

Corinne glanced at the table and spotted the necklace, which was still displayed out on the tablecloth. She momentarily fell silent. I hastily retrieved the necklace, wrapped it
in the velvet, and slipped the box back into my bag, which had the effect of snapping Corinne out of her stupor.

Simone resumed her seat and Corinne sat sullenly, propping her chin in her hand. “Natalie can't get me fired, can she?”

Simone put a hand on Corinne's arm. “She can ask the board, of course, but there's no reason they would fire you. You're one of the best staff members we have. I haven't heard any complaints about your work, so even if Natalie brought a request like that to the board, I'm sure nothing would come of it.”

Corinne relaxed slightly and offered me an apologetic smile. “I'm sorry I barged in on the two of you. Some of our members make me crazy sometimes. Honestly, I don't know who Natalie thinks she is. I've had calls from half a dozen members this morning complaining that she's been trying to bulldoze them into giving up their display space.” She shook her head and sighed heavily. “Nobody's going to just hand her a space they paid a thousand dollars for.”

A thousand . . .
I was growing more used to living in the land of milk and honey, but for a poor Hispanic girl from the wrong side of the tracks, hearing about people paying that much money for a chance to display a few baubles still scrambled my brain.