side and flush against the sidewalk. Tuck figured that, other than a coat of paint now and then, it hadn’t changed all that much in the last one hundred and fifty years.
Dark forest green wooden-slated shutters covered the long, narrow windows at street level. The closed shutters formed a protective barrier against the curious gazes of people wandering this stretch of the Quarter. A delicate, lace-like wrought iron balcony stretched out over the sidewalk, offering shade from the late-afternoon heat.
“Are you sure we aren’t here too early?”
“She said dinner on Sunday, which means be here at four forty-five because we’re sitting down at five p.m. sharp,” Bella said as she walked confidently up the street from where they’d parked.
The unassuming dark green front door, with its black, wrought iron knocker led into a white marble hallway flanked by pale lemon-colored walls. A staircase, bracketed on either side by feathery green palms in white pots, spun upward to the right. “This way. Aunt Min will be in the kitchen.”
Tuck followed Bella down the long marbled hallway in front of them until they veered off to the left. Min was in the kitchen putting food out on platters.
She turned as she heard them enter. “Good, you’re here! Grab a plate, and follow me into the dining room.” Neither of them hesitated to scoop up the dishes and follow her through the swinging door.
Enormous mirrors, which stretched from nearly floor to ceiling in ornate gilt frames, lined the left side of the room. A row of French doors flanked them on the right, opening out into a courtyard where palm fronds and bright fuchsia-colored bougainvillea fluttered in the breeze and a fountain bubbled happily.
They sat down at a small table decked out in linen and fine china that was dwarfed by the size of the room. “You’ll have to excuse the table,” Min said as she snapped her linen napkin and placed it in her lap. “We sold the dining room set several years ago, but with just me and Bella, it seemed silly to keep a table that could sit twenty.”
He realized what hadn’t been said, that the dining room set had probably been sold for a good deal of money when they’d needed it, but he gave her a smile all the same. “Dinner looks and smells fantastic.”
A slight pink color blossomed on Min’s cheeks. “I don’t often get to cook for company.”
“Don’t let her fool you,” Bella said. “She always cooks like this on Sundays. I’m spoiled.”
He laughed. “I don’t think our chef can compare to your aunt.”
Bella shook her head. “Aunt Min’s cooking is fantastic, but don’t sell Chef Antoine short. He’s amazing.” She looked at her aunt. “I think you’d like him. He’s got a special gift with food for thought.”
Tucker listened to them talk as he ate. The roasted chicken, sharp with the smell of rosemary, the creamy potatoes rich with butter and sour cream, and thin green beans sprinkled with crispy bits of bacon and smothered in garlic and olive oil made his mouth water. Bella and Min chatted away, and Min poured them all a glass of wine. Honestly, he was too busy enjoying the food on his plate to worry much about joining the conversation.
“You know, there’s a curse on this family,” Min said, heaping another spoonful of potatoes on her plate and trying to draw him into their discussion. “Did Bella ever tell you about it?”
He glanced at Bella and she rolled her eyes and shook her head, even though her lips curved. “Ignore her,” she mumbled.
Tuck couldn’t help himself. Min had awakened his curiosity, and it wouldn’t rest. “Curse, huh? That explains some lingering questions.”
Bella gasped and prodded him with her elbow. He laughed in response.
“It all started when the sea captain of the ship you’re salvaging, Pierre Dupré, was caught up in a marriage he couldn’t stomach. He had a dark mistress, not uncommon in those days, but it angered his wife, and she made things
Dark forest green wooden-slated shutters covered the long, narrow windows at street level. The closed shutters formed a protective barrier against the curious gazes of people wandering this stretch of the Quarter. A delicate, lace-like wrought iron balcony stretched out over the sidewalk, offering shade from the late-afternoon heat.
“Are you sure we aren’t here too early?”
“She said dinner on Sunday, which means be here at four forty-five because we’re sitting down at five p.m. sharp,” Bella said as she walked confidently up the street from where they’d parked.
The unassuming dark green front door, with its black, wrought iron knocker led into a white marble hallway flanked by pale lemon-colored walls. A staircase, bracketed on either side by feathery green palms in white pots, spun upward to the right. “This way. Aunt Min will be in the kitchen.”
Tuck followed Bella down the long marbled hallway in front of them until they veered off to the left. Min was in the kitchen putting food out on platters.
She turned as she heard them enter. “Good, you’re here! Grab a plate, and follow me into the dining room.” Neither of them hesitated to scoop up the dishes and follow her through the swinging door.
Enormous mirrors, which stretched from nearly floor to ceiling in ornate gilt frames, lined the left side of the room. A row of French doors flanked them on the right, opening out into a courtyard where palm fronds and bright fuchsia-colored bougainvillea fluttered in the breeze and a fountain bubbled happily.
They sat down at a small table decked out in linen and fine china that was dwarfed by the size of the room. “You’ll have to excuse the table,” Min said as she snapped her linen napkin and placed it in her lap. “We sold the dining room set several years ago, but with just me and Bella, it seemed silly to keep a table that could sit twenty.”
He realized what hadn’t been said, that the dining room set had probably been sold for a good deal of money when they’d needed it, but he gave her a smile all the same. “Dinner looks and smells fantastic.”
A slight pink color blossomed on Min’s cheeks. “I don’t often get to cook for company.”
“Don’t let her fool you,” Bella said. “She always cooks like this on Sundays. I’m spoiled.”
He laughed. “I don’t think our chef can compare to your aunt.”
Bella shook her head. “Aunt Min’s cooking is fantastic, but don’t sell Chef Antoine short. He’s amazing.” She looked at her aunt. “I think you’d like him. He’s got a special gift with food for thought.”
Tucker listened to them talk as he ate. The roasted chicken, sharp with the smell of rosemary, the creamy potatoes rich with butter and sour cream, and thin green beans sprinkled with crispy bits of bacon and smothered in garlic and olive oil made his mouth water. Bella and Min chatted away, and Min poured them all a glass of wine. Honestly, he was too busy enjoying the food on his plate to worry much about joining the conversation.
“You know, there’s a curse on this family,” Min said, heaping another spoonful of potatoes on her plate and trying to draw him into their discussion. “Did Bella ever tell you about it?”
He glanced at Bella and she rolled her eyes and shook her head, even though her lips curved. “Ignore her,” she mumbled.
Tuck couldn’t help himself. Min had awakened his curiosity, and it wouldn’t rest. “Curse, huh? That explains some lingering questions.”
Bella gasped and prodded him with her elbow. He laughed in response.
“It all started when the sea captain of the ship you’re salvaging, Pierre Dupré, was caught up in a marriage he couldn’t stomach. He had a dark mistress, not uncommon in those days, but it angered his wife, and she made things
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