Moonlight Mile Read Free Page B

family treated such things as nothing more than local color—fun to talk about at parties, but nothing to take too seriously. Nina and her father certainly fell into that category. But a few family members still believed, at least a little, including Gramma Rose and Uncle Oscar.
    Nina’s mother, on the other hand, had grown up in a voodoo-free subdivision in suburban New Jersey. She’d come to New Orleans on vacation soon after graduating from art school, met Nina’s father in a jazz club, and neverleft. Even though she’d been there for more than fifteen years now, her in-laws still loved to tease her about her sensible Yankee ways.
    â€œMaybe so,” Nina’s mother said with a small smile. “I just know I’ve had this feeling that something bad might be coming.”
    â€œDon’t say that, madame !” Delphine crossed herself.
    Nina’s father laughed again. “Better watch out, Delphine,” he joked. “Sounds like Great-Aunt Serena might be hanging around these parts.”
    Nina’s eyes widened. Weird, she thought. I can’t remember the last time Dad mentioned Great-Aunt Serena . . .
    â€œStop, Gabe.” Nina’s mother tried to look stern, though there was a twinkle in her blue eyes. “I’m just saying, maybe this was meant to be. In any case, you all don’t need to look so upset—it’s not a big deal.”
    â€œHow can you say that?” Nina squatted beside the sculpture, poking gingerly at what remained of one of the figures. Teniers wandered over and rubbed against her knee, purring loudly, and she tapped him on the head. “Naughty Teniers!”
    â€œNo, seriously,” her mother said. “Teniers probably did me a favor. I was feeling pretty ambivalent about that piece anyway.”
    Nina looked up at her. “What do you mean?”
    Her mother shrugged. “I mostly rushed it out for the show. I didn’t really even stop to think about whether it was working. And in the end, well, I’m not sure it was. It’s really pretty similar to some of my past work.” She smiled ruefully. “I’d hate to have the critics accuse me of being derivative of myself.”
    â€œBut I thought you needed that piece to fill the show,” Nina’s father said.
    â€œTrue. But maybe I can use something else,” Nina’s mother replied. “I’ve got plenty of older pieces that haven’t been out in public yet.” She winked. “Could be fun to figure out which one fits.”
    Her husband looked thoughtful. “What about that piece on the breakfront? I’ve always liked that one. . . .”
    Bastet had wandered into the room by then too. She head-butted Nina, letting loose with a piercing Siameseyowl. Leaving her parents discussing their sculpture options and Delphine bustling around putting away the wooden crate, Nina headed back toward the front of the house to feed the cats. Once that was done, she went to her room to change out of her riding clothes.
    Nina’s room lay between the kitchen and the studio. It was the smallest bedroom in the house, but she didn’t mind. Her parents had let her decorate it however she liked, and she’d treated it as her own personal art project, adding and subtracting things over the years. The walls were each painted a different color and the door was covered in a collage of photos and sketches of family, friends, and beautiful spots throughout the city. Instead of ordinary curtains, Nina had draped the two narrow windows with Mardi Gras beads. The rug beside the bed had been a gift from her cousin DeeDee after a trip to Morocco. Her bedspread had been handmade by her great-aunt Shirley.
    Nina knew her room looked different from those of most of her friends, but she’d never understood theappeal of going to the mall and buying shiny new things with no history at all. What was the point of having stuff without a