Rude, but I don’t take it personally. When I return to the parlor, Simon is stuffing the last of the wrapping paper into the garbage bag. “You don’t have to do that.” I pick up the remaining dirty plates and dump them with the used paper.
“Lindsey and Jim just left to look over a car in Slidell that Lindsey found on Craigslist. They shouldn’t be gone more than a couple of hours.” He ties the bag closed and looks at me. “Is your momma settled?”
“I think so, but with you here, who knows? She might suddenly remember something else.” I tie the bag and grab a bottle from the ice bucket. “Wine?”
“Been that kind of day?”
Raphael laughs from his cage. “I’m a lucky son of a bitch.”
“That’s enough, Ray-feel.”
Simon gets the birdcage cover as I fill two Little Peanut cups with a Washington Chablis.
“Good night, Raphael,” I say, and hand Simon a blue elephant cup. “Cheers.” I tap my cup to his and give my wine a little swirl for good measure before I take a sip. “Mm, that’s good.”
“I like a good wine but…” He looks into his elephant cup. “Do I have to swirl and smell it?”
I chuckle. “No, but my agent, Margie, is a real connoisseur, and it’s kind of funny to watch her do her thing. She inhales as she takes a sip and kind of swishes it around in her mouth before spitting it in a bucket.”
“Do you do that?”
“No, I’m not a connoisseur. I don’t spit.” I shake my head. “I swallow.”
22
There aren’t words.
THE DOUBLE meaning of my words hangs in the air as a red-hot flush works its way up my chest to my cheeks.
“Good to know.” There’s laughter in Simon’s voice, but thank God he’s a grown-up. “I’ll remember that if I’m ever at a fancy wine tasting.”
I clear my throat as if nothing happened and we settle on the chesterfield. “I think Lindsey had a good time.”
Simon takes a drink of wine from his elephant cup and sits beside me. “That girl looks like she’s going to have that baby any minute.”
“Another six weeks or so.” I pause a moment to think about that. “I’ve never lived in the same house as a baby.”
“It’s gonna be a busy time for y’all. That baby’s gonna be screamin’ just down the hall from you.”
“I know.” I groan. “And for such a tiny person, his stuff takes up a lot of space. And he’s not even here yet!” I pull my headband from my head and toss it aside. “Can you soundproof that room for me?”
“No, but you’re in luck, because lath-and-plaster walls are about two inches thicker than drywall.” He points to the ceiling. “But you got some problems upstairs with cracking and deterioration, and that affects the sounds that get through.”
“Of course it does,” I say through a sigh.
“Jasper always talked about renovating those bedrooms. He had me take pictures of them and the ceiling in the hall. I gave him an estimate, but he never got around to it.”
“Maybe he didn’t have an arm and a leg to give you.” I take a sip of wine. “Or a few other body parts.”
“Nah, he just didn’t want the upstairs touched.” He lifts his cup and takes a big swig. “Especially the big corner bedroom.”
“Why?”
“His brother died in that room. Probably other family members too.”
I sit up straighter, and the hair on my arms stands up. “In the room across from me? No wonder I hear creepy sounds at night. How many people have died in this house?”
“This is an old house… best guess…”