“Ooh,” she said, drawing her head back like I’d swiped at her. “Kitty has claws. You sound frustrated that there’s no kissing.”
“No, I’m frustrated by your questions. There’s nothing going on. I don’t want there to be anything going on. I’m giving him advice when he asks for it so that when his place opens, you and I are living over somewhere cool.”
Chloe’s expression softened. “Okay, I accept that you aren’t dating. But are you sure that’s how you want it?”
“Definitely.”
She sighed. “He is fine. So fine.” I agreed but knew better than to admit it aloud. “And it seems to me that what you guys are is friends, pre-benefits, but if you’re happy, then okay.”
“It’s not about happy or not happy. It’s about business.”
Chloe’s face was completely unimpressed. “You should be happy.”
“I am. It’s general happiness, not because of Miles.”
“Good. Then it won’t bother you when I show you this interesting item that ran in the paper today.” She swiped on her phone a few times and handed it to me. It was an article entitled “Arts Benefit Draws Star-Studded Crowd.” The picture showed Miles and a blonde I’d seen him with in a few paparazzi photos standing in front of one of those backdrops with the charity’s logo all over it. The caption read “Singer Miles Crowe and model Anneke Jansen.” He wore a black suit, and she was in a drapey silver mini-dress and sky-high heels. They made a striking couple.
I felt sick, and I hated it. The picture was a stark reminder that he lived a life totally different than mine, and I needed to remember that I didn’t fit into it.
“They look good,” I said, handing the phone back to her and trying to keep my face neutral.
“Uh huh.” Chloe’s tone dripped with doubt. “That’s it? No further comment?”
“There’s nothing to say. We’re not dating. He’s my tenant.”
“All right, I believe you.” But as she climbed to her feet and headed down the hallway to her bedroom, I heard her singing a snippet of Miles’s song, “Sweet Sunshine,” the one that served as my wakeup alarm.
Well, it was a good song.
Whatever. Miles would get the Turnaround open, and I would retreat completely, other than depositing his rent checks.
Until then, he’d get the same great service all my clients got.
It was just good business, after all.
Chapter Sixteen
Miss Mary looked out over the packed tables, each full of customers she’d known for years, and smiled.
“You okay?” I asked, watching her face.
It was a Saturday night, one of the few that the café had ever stayed open, and Miss Mary and a whole crew of her family had been prepping a giant goodbye gumbo for days. I’d come down several afternoons and helped Jerome with veggies, chopping up vats of onion, bell pepper, and celery—what we called the holy trinity in Cajun cooking—and slicing sausage and okra to get it all ready for Miss Mary to cook it up.
She’d spent all day on the gumbo yesterday, making the rich brown flour roux—had to be the color of an old brown penny, she’d told me for as long as I could remember—then she and Jerome had sauteed veggies and fried sausage and browned chicken, building the flavors of the gumbo layer by layer.
Gumbo was a thick stew served over rice, and it was everything you needed in one dish, so people didn’t often bother with sides beyond oyster crackers on top for some texture. I’d once heard one of Miss Mary’s grandkids complain about not liking okra, and Miss Mary had set her straight. “Okra is where gumbo gets its name, you hear? Our people brought okra from Africa centuries ago. Ki ngombo, it was called, and we used it to thicken our stews. How are you going to make a gumbo with no okra? Next you’re going to tell me we don’t need filé.” She’d shaken her head. “Just cook it down all day and you’ll never know the okra is in there.”
I knew about filé from my own grandmother. It was a greenish brown powder made from ground sassafras and used as a thickener too. It didn’t taste like anything by itself, but add it to the gumbo, and suddenly it was magic.
But both my grandmother and Miss Mary lived by the rule that gumbo was always better the second day, just like homemade marinara sauce. It had to do with letting all the flavors steep overnight, so yesterday