He offered me his hand. “I’m around when you need me.”
We shook.
Leading the way, I stepped into the foyer. Across the hallway through the opened double doors, I watched as Emma greeted each person. Cameraperson or reporter, she shook each hand and smiled as they introduced themselves. She was striking, wearing a blue dress with a small jacket. The color matched her eyes.
“Fuck,” I mumbled, unaware anyone heard.
“She’ll make a fine queen,” Miss Guidry said.
I nodded. “You’re right.”
“The spirits believed in her.”
I looked down at the old lady who had spent my whole life making such statements. “Were they worried?”
“They were but not about her.” Miss Guidry smiled. “She kept her promise, sir.” She pushed on my arm. “Now go, and be nice.”
Who knew that was a possibility?
Emma’s blue eyes lit up as I came closer. “And you all know my husband—”
I took her hand, sat at her side, and squinted into the bright lights. The two chairs normally separated by a table had been moved together. I nodded at the reporter. “Hello, I’m Emma Ramses’s husband.”
After agreeing to the terms Mr. Clark and Ms. Lynch had come to with the news crew, the cameras began to roll. With Emma’s hand in mine, we waited.
“Mrs. Ramses,” the reporter began, “what do you want to tell the people of New Orleans?”
We hadn’t planned for such an open-ended question. Nevertheless, I knew my wife was capable.
Emma smiled at me and back to the reporter. “I want to personally thank the people of New Orleans. I have no doubt that their actions and prayers worked for the greater good.” She squeezed my hand. “I’m safe and” —she looked around— “home and exactly where I belong.”
“Can you tell us what brought you to New Orleans?”
“I was offered a deal that I couldn’t resist.”
A deal with the devil.
Emma
Rett and I traveled in the back seat as Leon drove and Ian sat beside him. Rett knew our destination—he’d arranged this gathering. However, only Ian, Leon, and I knew a particular stipulation. I asked the men that Rett not know the details until it was necessary.
I squeezed my husband’s hand.
It had been over a month since our television interview. And although we refused to talk to the syndicated reporters on the street in front of our home, our interview was picked up by all the cable news networks all over the world, appearing not only on television but also on social media, and living forever on sites such as YouTube.
During the last month, we’d settled into a comfortable routine. At least once a week, we made our way out in public. Of course, Ian, Leon, or Noah was nearby and more of Rett’s men were on the perimeter. I’d even made one trip without Rett to the city library. They had a reading program that they wanted to expand. Their website had a way to give donations.
Their goal was to add on to their building as an outreach program for New Orleans’s children of all backgrounds. Ian called and set up an appointment with the president of the library board. When Ian and I entered the meeting, the board president wasn’t alone. His assistant was present.
For only a moment, I imagined the horror of what happened to my mother, to enter a room with hopes and expectations only to have them crushed. Of course, my meeting was different. I’d been the one, through Ian, to call it.
As I handed them a check for $750,000 to begin the first phase of construction with a promise to double the donation once construction was started, no one present wanted to dash my dreams. The board president gushed and thanked me profusely.
That donation was only a small part of the money that came my way from Ross’s electronic currency. It seemed, with some persuasion on Ross’s parents’ part, his death was changed from suicide to accidental. I offered them the cryptocurrency, but they refused, saying they wanted me to use it to keep Ross’s dream alive. After all, we’d both gone to the University of Pittsburgh to be great writers. By investing in libraries and literary programs, I believed that his funds would open the world of literature and writing to the next generation.
“Mrs. Ramses,” Leon said. We were still on the highway, but from what little I could remember, the secret part of our journey was about to begin.
Ian grinned my direction as I opened my purse and removed two blindfolds. I handed one to my husband.