The Taking (Seven Deadly Sins #3)(13)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“It’s my house,” she told him with a smile. “I just bought it and I’m moving in today.”

He shot her a look of disbelief, his bushy gray eyebrows rising to meet his hairline. “You bought this big old house? Where are you from?”

Regan realized she’d distracted him, and she started to wonder if he had any intention of pulling back out into traffic. She could really use her coffee. “I’m from here. I grew up in the Garden District.”

“Then why were you staying in a hotel?”

“I’m moving in today and I stayed in a hotel so I’d have a bed to sleep on.”

He still looked suspicious, but he seemed to relent short of asking to see her settlement statement from the title company. “Well, it’s a big house, but you won’t be alone in it.”

“Actually, I will, I’m single.” For which she was grateful on a daily basis.

“I meant the spirits. Everyone knows this house is haunted.” Leaning over his steering wheel to stare up at the balcony, he pointed. “That’s where she died, you know.”

“Who died?”

“Some girl. Threw herself off that balcony over a hundred years ago. Boy trouble. You know how that goes.”

“No, actually I don’t.” She’d never once felt the urge to throw herself off a balcony. Run like hell? Yes. Scream witlessly into a pillow? Definitely. Throwing herself off a balcony to shatter every bone on the stones below had never once occurred to her.

Maybe she was normal after all.

But she was already questioning that again an hour later when she was staring across the powdered-sugar-laden table at Jen, saying, “Ask him again.”

Jen made a face over her coffee cup. “Regan, I can’t. He said no, what am I supposed to do? Threaten him? Use a spell to coerce him? He’s the voodoo priest, not me.”

“Well, maybe he didn’t understand what the event was,” Regan said, crumpling up a napkin on the sticky table in front of her. She couldn’t believe Felix had said no to doing readings at her party. “Did you give him my name?”

“Um, yes.” Jen set down her coffee cup.

“So give me the address to his store then. I’ll go and ask him in person. He just can’t say no.” Regan wasn’t sure why it was so important, it just was. But she realized a second too late how her determination could be misconstrued.

Definitely too late. Jen’s brown eyes were curious. “You’re going to walk into his shop and ask him in person? Are you freaking kidding me? What’s the big deal? We knew it was a long shot to get anyone on such short notice.”

“He’s just really good, that’s all,” Regan said, the words sounding lame to her own ears.

Given that they had been friends for twenty years, Jen wasn’t buying that for a second. “When did you meet him, by the way? You never said.”

Shit. “At a Christmas party.” She strove for casual, taking a big bite of her beignet and occupying her attention with shaking powdered sugar off her fingers.

“Which Christmas party? I don’t recall you going to any except for the one Beau’s firm threw.”

“It was that one.” She blotted her mouth and blinked at Jen. Time to change the subject and quick. “So, have the tabletop decorations gotten in yet? I know I said I wanted ten rounds, but I’m thinking we should go with twelve. The living room is huge and I don’t want it to seem empty.”

“Nice try.” Jen moved her finger in a circle. “But let’s back up to the moment of meeting the voodoo priest that you’re clearly dying to have at your party. If my math is right, which it is, you met this guy the night you left your husband. Would you care to explain that to me?”

“What difference does that make?”

“Hello! It makes a huge difference.” Jen sank back in her chair, her beignets forgotten. “Oh, my God, you slept with him, didn’t you? That’s what this is all about. You panicked in your marriage, had a fling, left your husband, now you’re thinking the answer to all your problems is with this guy you don’t know jack-shit about.”

“I did not sleep with him! And my leaving Beau had nothing to do with meeting him. We barely exchanged five words.” The doughnut sat in her gut like an anchor, and Regan crossed her arms over her chest, feeling belligerent. “Can’t you just accept that being married to Beau blew and that’s why I left him? Why isn’t that good enough?”

“It’s not good enough, I’m sorry. You had this great husband who was madly in love with you, who catered to your every whim, and you just threw him away for no apparent reason. Relationships don’t always go your way every single second of the day, Regan. You have to work at them and appreciate what you have. Do you know how many women would have loved to be in your designer shoes?”

Regan’s arms fell to her sides as she stared at Jen, stunned. “I see. I didn’t realize you thought I was such a spoiled brat.”

Her friend sighed, tucking her caramel-colored hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right. I don’t think you’re a spoiled brat. You’re very generous and not even remotely pretentious. I just don’t see what it is you want. I mean, how could you not be happy with him?”

Picking at the damp coagulated sugar on her half-eaten beignet, Regan swallowed the twin lump in her throat. “Maybe,” she said softly, “because he was the wrong man for me. Maybe, because he made me feel horribly inadequate and intensely lonely. And because no matter how good it looks on paper, a marriage that does that to you is not a good one.”

Jen stared at her for a long minute then tossed her napkin on the table. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

Knowing that was a major concession for Jen, Regan nodded. “Thanks.”

But Jen was already rifling around in her handbag, which she had carefully set on the empty chair next to her, on top of a layer of protective napkins she had spread out. Powdered sugar was a fact of life at Café du Monde, stuck to every surface and scattered all over the floor. It was the price you paid for the luxury of beignets caked with the addictive stuff.

“Here.” Jen shoved a piece of paper at her.

“What’s this?”

“It’s the address for Felix Leblanc’s shop. Take it. Do whatever you want with it.”

Regan grinned as she glanced down at it. Orleans Street. “Thanks.” She could have looked it up herself, but it was touching that Jen had given it to her, no matter how begrudgingly.