Dream a Little Dream of Me Read online

  By Jolie St. Amant

  A Kiss to Build a Dream On

  Copyright © 2018 by Jolie St. Amant

  All rights reserved.

  Bienvenue Press, LLC

  Youngsville, LA 70592

  http://www.bienvenuepress.com

  Formatting: Charms Formatting

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  This book is dedicated to the city of New Orleans. May your magic and mystery continue to inspire me and others who visit.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  “I’ve been offered a job at a hotel in New Orleans,” Chloe Devereaux Montgomery said. She looked down at the gleaming black marble countertop. She refused to look her husband, Chandler, in the eye. Instead, she focused on the swirls and sparkles on the kitchen counter.

  He laughed. “And? It’s not like you’re going to take it. Why would you move there?” He said “there” with a sneer. Chandler gestured around the house, pointing at the paintings, the modern sculptures, and the furniture that cost more than some people made in a year. “You would leave this? You would leave everything I have given you?”

  “I already have,” she said, and even as a whisper, the words echoed through the kitchen.

  “What are you saying?”

  She looked up then, into his expressionless blue eyes. “I took the job. I’m moving to New Orleans. My bags are packed and I’m leaving today.”

  He laughed again. “You’re joking, right?”

  “No, I’m not. I’m leaving, Chandler. I’ve packed everything I want. There’s no need for anything else. You’ll be hearing from my attorney soon for a divorce.”

  “But you can’t leave. What will people think? We have campaign fundraisers coming up! I have a campaign!”

  “You know what? I really don’t care.” She placed the house key and her wedding ring on the countertop and walked out the door. She never looked back.

  Chloe rolled down the window the moment she turned off the interstate and on to Conti, headed to the French Quarter. She wanted to smell what everyone said was uniquely New Orleans, and she wasn’t disappointed. The very air smelled of earth, exotic flowers, and history. As she got closer to the Quarter itself, she turned the radio down to hear the music that emanated from the city like a heartbeat, making it seem like a living, breathing, entity.

  She took in as much as she could while trying to navigate the city’s maze of tangled, one-way streets, determined to take a street car, a taxi, or Uber later and just be a passenger and enjoy the scenery. That would come soon, but for now, she had to get to the Chateau Rouge and her new, albeit temporary, home.

  She glanced down at her phone and thought of Chandler, and how she had left him just that morning. Truth be told, he left her a long time ago. Maybe not physically, but in every other way that mattered. How long had it been since they had felt like a couple? Days? Weeks? Months? She had suggested counseling, romantic vacations, even getting a dog. He had rejected them all, as they weren’t part of his big plan. And when she had learned of the affair…

  Chandler wouldn’t contest the divorce. That would make a show, and that just wasn’t done. He’d make up some story to his friends about the divorce, something making him the good guy, or better yet, the victim.

  A honk sounded behind her, and she realized the light was green. Shaking her head, she listened to the robotic voice of her GPS give directions, mispronouncing every other word. Hell, if she hadn’t watched so many shows and movies about New Orleans, she would have mangled them too. Especially that tongue twister Tchoupitoulas, pronounced CHOP-ah-too-lus, for the non-native New Orleanians. Chloe had to run the unfamiliar word around her tongue before she could finally get it right.

  She slowed to a stop in front of the stately Chateau Rouge hotel. In the late 1800s, it had been a popular bordello, frequented by New Orleans’ elite. Now, it was a boutique hotel in the French Quarter. She pulled into the parking garage and was greeted by a black suited bellman.

  Chloe blushed as she saw him eye the pile of belongings in her backseat. He didn’t utter a word, but Chloe stammered, “Um, I’m Chloe.” She held out a hand in greeting. “I’m going to be working here.”

  He smiled then. “Oh, yes, Ms. Chloe. Mr. Alcide told us to be expecting you today. If you will tell me what you need brought up, I can get started on that.”

  Chloe motioned to the SUV’s trunk. “For now, just my suitcase and a few things from the front seat.” She had stopped in Lafayette’s downtown area for lunch and had stumbled upon a quirky costume shop—finding the perfect flapper costume inside. She couldn’t be in New Orleans for Halloween and not dress up. She couldn’t wait to feel the fringe of the skirt dance around her legs as she moved through the throngs of people on Bourbon Street.

  The bellman loaded her things on to the bellcart. “I’ve got it, Ms. Chloe, you go on ahead and tell the front desk you’re here. Mr. Alcide will want to meet you.”

  Chloe slung her purse over her shoulder and grinned at the bellman. “I didn’t catch your name, and since we’re going to be coworkers, I think it’s fitting we get to know each other.

  “I’m Oliver, or Ollie,” he said, flashing her a smile again. “It’s going to be a pleasure working with you, ma’am.”

  “Please, no ma’am. Call me Chloe.”

  “Yes, Ms. Chloe.”

  Chloe gasped as she entered the lobby of the hotel. It was older and more elegant than anything she’d ever seen, even in Dallas when she and Chandler had gone on the occasional trip. The pictures she’d seen online didn’t come close to capturing the Chateau Rouge’s charm. She turned in a slow circle, taking it all in.

  The lobby was done in shades of light blue and cream. Big, comfortable-looking beige sofas sat in the middle of the lobby, an assortment of local travel magazines resting on the coffee table between them. Nestled in corners and alcoves were Grecian busts. Fresh flowers, in whites, blues, and pinks, flowed from vases on side tables. Looking up finally, Chloe spotted the sparkling chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

  She closed her eyes and saw a vision of her in a flapper dress in this lobby, waiting to meet someone in the bar. A man. Her lover.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?” the desk clerk asked, shaking her back to reality.

  “Yes,” she said slowly, walking up to the counter. “My name is Chloe Devereaux. I’m here to meet Alcide Santiago.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll ring him and tell him you’re here.”

  “Thank you,” she said, spying his name tag, “Franklin.”

  Chloe continued her perusal of the lobby as Franklin picked up the phone to call Mr. Santiago. The bar she’d just been thinking about was off to the side. She’d definitely end up there later. She needed a good drink after the long drive. And to celebrate her new-found independence.

  “Ms. Devereaux? Mr. Alcide will see you now. His office is right through here.” He motioned to an area behind him. Chloe rounded the desk and walked through a set of doors. Franklin knocked on one and waited.

  “Yes,” a deep voice that didn’t sound like anything she had ever heard before sounded from behind the door.


  Franklin opened it, and stepped back, allowing her to enter. When Chloe saw the man behind the desk, she almost turned around and walked out.

  He was dressed in black from head to toe. Black shirt, tie, and a jacket that looked like it cost more than Chandler had made last year. Menace creeped from his pores like a masculine cologne.

  He stood up to meet her, and when she saw how tall he really was, her head swam. Chloe inhaled to steady her nerves and was taken with his scent. He smelled like expensive bourbon and sandalwood. Intoxicating.

  His features softened into a smile and Chloe relaxed. He gestured toward the chair in front of the enormous carved ebony desk.

  “Alcide Santiago. I’m head of security and second in command here at the Chateau Rouge. It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms. Deveraux. Please take a seat.”

  Relieved, Chloe sank down into the overstuffed leather chair, then sat up straight. She laced her fingers together and placed them in her lap, resisting the urge to fidget.

  “I won’t bite,” he said in a heavily accented voice that was borderline hypnotic.

  “Of course not, Mr. Santiago,” she assured him.

  “Alcide, please. I’m pleased to welcome you to our staff. Josephine has told me much about you, and I know she will be excited to meet you. She will be down around seven. That gives you about an hour. Would you like to freshen up? I can tell her to meet you in the bar. Our head of hospitality, Ivy, will be there soon too. She’ll want to meet you as well.”

  “Yes, I would like that. If you could just tell me where my room is.”

  He reached into an armoire behind him and pulled out a silver key on a red ribbon. “You’ll be on the fourth floor. That’s where all of our long-term guests stay. This key will also grant you access to areas that are off limits to the general public. Josephine will show you those on her tour tomorrow evening. This key will get you to the fourth floor. The elevator will not work without it, so it’s imperative that you don’t lose it.

  And face the wrath of Alcide? She’d rather incite the ire of Marie Laveau herself. In fact, Chloe had a necklace that the key would look perfect on—she’d wear it so she didn’t lose it.

  “You’re in room 413. I’ll walk with you.”

  “You don’t need to do that,” Chloe said automatically, then regretted the words, afraid they’d come off as argumentative.

  He smiled again. “It would be my pleasure, Ms. Chloe. In fact, I’ve been behind this desk for too long. I could use a little break.”

  She nodded. “Okay, then.”

  He stood then and gestured to the door. “After you, madam.”

  Chloe wondered if all men in New Orleans were like Alcide, then almost laughed. There probably weren’t many men in the world like Alcide. He was old world, elegant, and refined. He was quiet as they walked to her room. A man of very few words. When he talked, you listened.

  Chloe let out a gasp as she stepped in the room. The afternoon sun streaming in through the open drapes from the balcony turned the yellow walls the shade of warm butter. The yellow and green material on the bedcover was the same as on the drapes. Very Gone with the Wind.

  “Is everything to your satisfaction?” Alcide asked.

  “Yes, it’s absolutely perfect!”

  “Ivy, I mentioned her before, she is your next-door neighbor. Don’t bother her during the day though. She can be rather…irritable. My rooms are down the hallway, and Josephine’s are on this floor as well. She’s on the opposite end of mine.”

  Chloe opened the white paneled French doors and stepped out onto the balcony. There was a small table and two chairs perfect for enjoying her morning coffee. She couldn’t wait to try the New Orleans style coffee and the café au lait, the strong chicory mixed with milk.

  Looking down, she saw the grey flagstone courtyard. A small pool glistened in the middle, surrounded by lush greenery. A few wrought iron tables and chairs were scattered around. Hotel guests milled around them, reading or enjoying a late afternoon beverage.

  Home, she thought, feeling a powerful sense of déjà vu. She shook her head to clear it. She’d been reading too many paranormal books and watching too many movies set in New Orleans.

  “Are you feeling okay, Chloe?” Alcide asked, concern deepening his voice.

  She smiled. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”

  “Of course. I’ll let you freshen up. Please do not hesitate to call the front desk if you should need anything. They can reach me anytime.”

  “I will.”

  He lowered his head in an oddly old-fashioned manner. “I will see you later, then.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good evening.”

  He turned and left the room, leaving Chloe alone with her thoughts. She hummed a little song as she unpacked a few necessities from her suitcase. She noted that her costume was already hanging in the closet. She looked at the clock and noted that she had just enough time to shower before going down to the hotel bar to meet Ivy and Josephine.

  She mixed a drink from the small bar in the room and grabbed one of the hotel’s white fluffy robes embroidered with the hotel’s black and red logo.

  She smiled.

  She was in New Orleans. She was home.

  “Josey!” Ivy said, snapping her fingers. “Josey!”

  “What?” the hotel owner answered sharply, then instantly apologized.

  “I’m sorry, Ivy,” Josey said. “What is it?”

  “That was a fine piece of flesh,” Ivy teased, flashing an eyebrow in the direction of the elevator that an exceptionally good-looking man had just stepped into.

  Josey frowned and started needlessly straightening the top of the Queen Anne desk. “Isn’t it time for your shift? What did you do to your hair?” Josey asked Ivy, gesturing to the streak of burgundy in her brunette hair.

  “I dyed it this morning. Getting all ready for the Vampire Ball this weekend, although I think I may go fiery red. Do you think Dean will notice? I still need some arm candy.”

  “If he doesn’t, he’s blind. It looks good.”

  “Are you coming down for happy hour tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Tobias has been unusually rowdy lately.”

  “He’s probably fussing with Lucy again. You know how they are. I’ll come down and keep an eye on things.”

  “Good. He doesn’t listen to me. He almost broke the beer mugs last night.”

  “Tobias doesn’t really listen to anyone. But I’ll come down and check it out.”

  “Great.” Josey turned her attention to the couple that stepped up to desk to check in and Ivy began her duties at the bar. She was filling Tobias’s mug when Alcide walked in.

  “Our newest employee has checked in,” he said. “She should be coming down shortly to introduce herself.”

  Ivy smiled. “She has no clue, does she?”

  Alcide shook his head. “None that I can see.”

  “This should be interesting,” she said, and winked. “Very interesting.”

  Forty-five minutes later, Chloe was walking through the lobby, toward the bar, and noticed a woman was working the front desk now.

  “Can I help you?” the bartender said when Chloe sat down. Chloe was struck by the woman’s intense gun-metal grey eyes. It was a color that could not be real.

  “I’ll take a cosmo,” she said, ordering the first drink that came to her mind. Chloe had never been much of a drinker, mostly wine and champagne on special occasions.

  “Sure thing.”

  Chloe noticed the bartender’s accent was similar to Alcide’s—a little old world, a little New Orleans. Whatever it was, it was like music to her.

  “First time in New Orleans?” the bartender asked.

  “Yes, how can you tell?”

  She smiled. “You have that look. A little like a deer in the headlights, a little like a kid in a candy store.”

  “Well, my trip is a little different. I’m also moving here. I’m Chlo
e Devereaux. Are you Ivy?”

  Those unusual eyes narrowed for a moment. “The new PR girl? And, yes, I’m Ivy. It’s nice to meet you. Alcide said you would be coming down.”

  “That’s me! I’m sure I’ll get to sit down with you soon and talk about the hotel. Alcide says you’re the head of hospitality?”

  “That’s what they call me these days,” Ivy said with a grin.

  “Great! Hopefully, we can sit down and talk. Until then, maybe you can tell me what I need to see this weekend to get me acquainted with the town. I’ve been reading about the hotel and the ghost tour that starts here. Is it good?”

  Ivy slid the drink in front of Chloe, placing it on one of the hotel’s napkins. “It’s one of the best. Sam and Dean have been around for ages and ages. They know stories about this town that most historians don’t. They are right over there.” Ivy nodded to two men in the corner of the bar. They were dressed as English gentlemen, one even wearing a grey top hat.

  Chloe thought of the ghost app she had installed on her phone while eating lunch in Lafayette.

  “Maybe I’ll take it tonight.”

  “That’s a great idea. You can even book online. I’ll be right back,” Ivy said as two new customers came in. It was the couple that were checking in when Chloe had walked through the lobby. They barely looked at each other as they took seats at the bar. Definitely not here for a pleasure trip.

  She wasn’t paying attention when someone sat down beside her, too busy purchasing her ghost tour ticket. While on the website, she read a few of the reviews, and looked at some of the pictures shared by people who had taken the tour. Chloe’s heart beat fast, wondering if she would catch some kind of weird orb or figure on her phone.

  Suddenly, something icy cold spilled on her shirt. She looked over at the man who had sat down beside her. “You spilled a drink on me!” Chloe Devereaux’s voice rang out over the noise in the hotel’s lounge. She turned to see the whole bar’s attention on her and not on the two tour guides who had just been speaking. Mortified, she felt her cheeks burn.