Twenty minutes later, Stacy turns on Chartres Street without warning, quickening her pace toward two elegant turquoise blue townhouses reminiscent of the Caribbean Sea. The color evokes superstitious practices of painting doors blue to ward off evil spirits.
Stacy stops at the townhouse’s ground-level shop. “Elise’s Herbal Shop. I knew this place by a different name once long, long ago,” she says with a strange expression. “Jardinerie de Elise,” she whispers under her breath.
Long, long ago? The specter’s tone alludes to her era or perhaps a time when apothecaries existed instead of pharmacies.
Long, long ago?Stacy strays near the blue shutter doors, planting her palms and ear to it as if sensing someone on the other side. Her long, slender fingers arch and straighten, clawing at the sh
