Liam opened his mouth, probably to say something sarcastic, but before he could speak, there was a loud pop. The lights went out, leaving us in darkness.
“And now we can get the party started!” Gunnar said, and we laughed as he’d meant us to do.
“Life in the Zone,” he said with resignation, pushing back his chair. “Claire, I’ll help you get the candles.”
It said something about the Zone and Gunnar that he was practiced enough at this to know what to do, where to find what he needed. Or maybe we’d all spent too much time in this building.
I rose, moved carefully through darkness to the counter and the shelf where I kept the candles and matches. I pulled them out—two silver candelabras with long white tapers, four hurricane lamps with butter-yellow beeswax candles I’d traded for several packs of batteries. I flicked a match against the side of the box, and the flame took. I protected the flame with the cup of my other hand, brought it to the candles’ wicks. A soft glow filled the room.
“At least moonlight is flattering,” Gunnar said as we carried the candlesticks back to the table, set them down the middle in intervals.
“There is something to be said for it,” Burke agreed, with a smile that Gunnar reciprocated.
“When we were kids,” Gunnar said, “Dad would take us to this cheap motel on Pensacola Beach. Cinder block walls, tile floor. It was not fancy. This was before he made his money.”
Gunnar’s father, Cantrell Landreau, had been a very successful surgeon. His practice had bought the family’s house in the Garden District. (The Arsenaults were an old family with old money. The Landreaus were relatively new to New Orleans and newer to money. Even after the war, that difference still mattered to some.) Cantrell had been a field doctor during the war, and had refused to leave the city when the war was over.
“We’d buy groceries when we got into town, fill a mini fridge with hot dogs and milk so we wouldn’t have to eat out. The beach was gorgeous then—white sand. Blue water. Absolutely amazing. They had these little grills on the patio. Just a firebox on a pole with a grate on top. Anyway, at night, after we’d spent the day on the beach, we’d walk down to the shore, with the moon hanging above us. The sand would have cooled off by then, and it would feel so good between your toes. We’d sit down on these wooden beach chairs, watch the moon and stars, listen to the waves rush in.”
We sat quietly for a moment, thinking about the scene.
“A beach vacation would hit the spot right now,” Burke agreed. “Man, or even just zoning out in front of the television.”
“Best way to spend a weekend afternoon,” Gunnar agreed.
“What about you, Claire?” Tadji asked. “What do you miss?”
“Oh, I got this,” Gunnar said with a grin. “She misses cheese, good tea, and air-conditioning.”
“Nearly nailed it,” I said, raising my glass to him.
“Sweet tea?” Burke asked.
“Earl Grey, if I can get it.” I looked at Liam, lifted my eyebrows. “I understand you may have a supplier.”
“I am a man of many talents,” he said with a grin, which made Tadji whistle.
“You know why she loves Earl Grey?” Gunnar asked, shifting in his seat to look at me. “She discovered something awesome.”
“And what’s that?” Liam asked, smiling at me.
“It’s silly,” I said, “but if you put honey in Earl Grey, it tastes a little like Fruity Rockers.”
“The breakfast cereal?” Liam asked, and I nodded.
“Saturday mornings with television and Fruity Rockers,” Burke said. “Now, that was bliss.”
“And now we can get the party started!” Gunnar said, and we laughed as he’d meant us to do.
“Life in the Zone,” he said with resignation, pushing back his chair. “Claire, I’ll help you get the candles.”
It said something about the Zone and Gunnar that he was practiced enough at this to know what to do, where to find what he needed. Or maybe we’d all spent too much time in this building.
I rose, moved carefully through darkness to the counter and the shelf where I kept the candles and matches. I pulled them out—two silver candelabras with long white tapers, four hurricane lamps with butter-yellow beeswax candles I’d traded for several packs of batteries. I flicked a match against the side of the box, and the flame took. I protected the flame with the cup of my other hand, brought it to the candles’ wicks. A soft glow filled the room.
“At least moonlight is flattering,” Gunnar said as we carried the candlesticks back to the table, set them down the middle in intervals.
“There is something to be said for it,” Burke agreed, with a smile that Gunnar reciprocated.
“When we were kids,” Gunnar said, “Dad would take us to this cheap motel on Pensacola Beach. Cinder block walls, tile floor. It was not fancy. This was before he made his money.”
Gunnar’s father, Cantrell Landreau, had been a very successful surgeon. His practice had bought the family’s house in the Garden District. (The Arsenaults were an old family with old money. The Landreaus were relatively new to New Orleans and newer to money. Even after the war, that difference still mattered to some.) Cantrell had been a field doctor during the war, and had refused to leave the city when the war was over.
“We’d buy groceries when we got into town, fill a mini fridge with hot dogs and milk so we wouldn’t have to eat out. The beach was gorgeous then—white sand. Blue water. Absolutely amazing. They had these little grills on the patio. Just a firebox on a pole with a grate on top. Anyway, at night, after we’d spent the day on the beach, we’d walk down to the shore, with the moon hanging above us. The sand would have cooled off by then, and it would feel so good between your toes. We’d sit down on these wooden beach chairs, watch the moon and stars, listen to the waves rush in.”
We sat quietly for a moment, thinking about the scene.
“A beach vacation would hit the spot right now,” Burke agreed. “Man, or even just zoning out in front of the television.”
“Best way to spend a weekend afternoon,” Gunnar agreed.
“What about you, Claire?” Tadji asked. “What do you miss?”
“Oh, I got this,” Gunnar said with a grin. “She misses cheese, good tea, and air-conditioning.”
“Nearly nailed it,” I said, raising my glass to him.
“Sweet tea?” Burke asked.
“Earl Grey, if I can get it.” I looked at Liam, lifted my eyebrows. “I understand you may have a supplier.”
“I am a man of many talents,” he said with a grin, which made Tadji whistle.
“You know why she loves Earl Grey?” Gunnar asked, shifting in his seat to look at me. “She discovered something awesome.”
“And what’s that?” Liam asked, smiling at me.
“It’s silly,” I said, “but if you put honey in Earl Grey, it tastes a little like Fruity Rockers.”
“The breakfast cereal?” Liam asked, and I nodded.
“Saturday mornings with television and Fruity Rockers,” Burke said. “Now, that was bliss.”
