The Casquette Girls (Book 1)

7. Ciao, bella

"Oh, good call," my father said, coming up behind me. He kissed my cheek good-bye before skipping up the stairs.

"On what?"

"On winding up the clock," he yelled down.

"But I didn't . . ."

When I turned around, the pendulum was swinging in the grandfather clock. The ticktocks were no longer phantom. For a moment I stared at the second hand swiftly ticking around the circle. My fingers tightened into a fist around my keys. The metal felt warm.

". . . but I didn't touch the clock," I whispered.

Trying not to go into a full-on panic attack, I dropped the keys into my bag and did what any reasonable person would do: ignored it and hustled out the door.

My nervousness transferred from my shoulders down to my feet, which carried me down the block at a nonsouthern pace. I misjudged the hop onto the curb and stumbled.

"Adele? You okay?" Felix Palermo yelled, witnessing my spastic moment. He sure has good eyesight for someone pushing eighty. The old man was hunched over a broom, next to a pile of window shards. I hurried across the street, eager for the distraction.

"Hi, Mr. Felix!"

"If it isn't little Miss Addie Le Moyne."

Behind him, a couple of younger guys I didn't recognize exited the little corner store, carrying a moldy refrigerator. Palermo's Italian Delicatessen was not in good shape, but I tried not to let the shock show on my face.

The guys dropped the fridge near the curb and quickly retreated back into the deli.

"When did y'all get back?" I asked, giving the old man a hug.

"We snuck back a few days ago, but it wasn't till yesterday I found a couple boys to help us start haulin' out the trash. They're staying in the top-floor apartment, trading labor for rent. If ya ask me, I'm getting the better end of the deal—the apartment doesn't even have electricity. But they're over from the motherland, lookin' for some missing relatives, so they've got bigger problems."

"We're running a generator," I said. "I don't think anyone in the Quarter has electricity yet."

"We got a few feet of water. It poured in the storefront window where an old Chevy pushed through. It's still beyond me how the boys managed to get the car out last night. Must be nice being young. Looters trashed the place." He sighed. "I suppose I can't really blame them. People need to eat. This hurricane, Addie, I don't know. I've been through Betsy and Camille and at least a couple dozen more, but something's just not right."

I understood what he meant. Something felt off. I'd tried to convince myself it was just a mix of being away for so long combined with shock, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something else was different. Something had changed.

He gestured to the store. "You go in there and take anything you and your pop need. That is, if there's anything left."

"I can't just take stuff—"

"Adele, you go salvage anything you can. And don't you worry about it. I'm filin' an insurance claim tomorrow. Capisce?" He gave me an exaggerated wink.

"Capisce." I smiled and walked toward the entrance.

"And be careful in there, Adele! It's a goddamn mess."

I yelled, "Okay," over my shoulder and stopped at the entrance. The enormous retro letters that spelled out the store's name, usually lit up in red, white, and green, had come loose. "PAL" still seemed secure, but "ERMO'S" now hung at a dangerous ninety-degree angle. I hurried underneath. The whole city was starting to feel like one giant booby trap.