The clanging of the streetcar waned as it came to a stop in front of the hotel. Albert stepped down onto the grass running along the tracks on either side where magnificent oaks create a living canopy covering the street car’s path, and iconic mansions line both sides of Charles Street, reflecting the character of this historic area of town.
“Apologize.., seriously?”, Albert said softly so not to be heard. “What’s done is done. I can’t change the past. Let’s not dwell on this.”
“Really? I just think it would be nice to get a simple apology, just once in a while.”, said Shelly as she stepped down from the streetcar. “I can’t believe we’re in New Orleans.”
“I know.., right?”
“We needed a new start.”, Shelly said as she took Albert’s arm.
The hotel was nestled between two nineteenth-century street lamps, their dark green paint matching perfectly with large ivy-covered oak trees on either side. The word Pontchartrain stood out in white script letters against the burgundy awning extending from the door to the street.
Beneath the awning stood a man wearing a cream color suit. His slim build emphasized by his long narrow face and curly black hair that just seemed to typify New Orleans. His thin mustache outlining his lip as he smiled.
“Why you must be Mr. and Mrs Gladwell.”
“Yes sir we are.”
Albert extended his hand and it was met with a firm enthusiastic handshake.
“I’m Marcel Trudeaux Mr. Gladwell, but please, call me Marcel. Welcome to the Pontchartrain.” His thick creole accent almost lyrical as he spoke.
“Nice to meet you Marcel. I’m Albert and this is my wife Shelly.”
“Pleasure to meet you both. And might I say, what a beautiful bride you have to match this lovely Spring day.”
“Thank you Mr. Trudeaux”, said Shelly.
“How long have y’all been married?” He pulled Albert’s hand towards him as he turned to the door, leading them along the way.
“Almost a year.” Albert said. When he grabbed the brass door handle images flooded his consciousness. Ornate rooms with people engaging in conversation, paintings on walls, the sensation of falling in slow motion watching window after window pass by and seeing the ground rushing up, a well-dressed woman looking at him, her long hair meticulously groomed.
He jerked his hand back gasping for breath, heart pounding so hard he could hear a rushing sound in his ears.
Marcel had a subtle smile on his face. “So you’re newlyweds”, he paused briefly “Albert, are you ok?”
“What the hell.., wait.., what just happened?”, Albert asked still panting for air.
“Oh, did you just meet one of the hotel’s ghostly residents Mr. Gladwell?” Marcel said as he passed through the door, his walk was almost like a dance.
“What?” Albert paused gathering his thoughts. “Yeah.., I’m sorry, I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“What do you believe in Albert?”, Marcel asked.
“You know I’ve been meaning to ask. How did you find me? I…”
Marcel interrupted before Albert could finish, “I didn’t find you, a resident of the hotel did.”
“What do you mean a resident did?”
“Just what I said. She contacted me and told me how to find you. All I did was make contact.”
“She? She who? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“All in good time, Albert. All in good time.”
Two large marble pillars adorned each side of the entryway where red and gold paisley curtains were swaged to the side revealing the front desk, the wood so old it was black. The faint smell of linseed oil and furniture polish filled the air. A large crystal chandelier hung in the center of the entry where the morning sunlight shown off the crystals lighting the ceiling and wall tops with little star reflections.
Marcel turned to face the couple, “Follow me and I’ll show you to your residence.”
Beyond the registration desk a hallway opened up to a room with dark wooden flooring. Rugs in front of luxurious sofas and parlor chairs separated by small tables decorated the space. Two more chandeliers hung from the ceiling with carriage lights placed atop a metal oval. On the wall facing the hallway were paintings differing in sizes.
“This is our residents lounge”, said Marcel. “Guests usually gather here in the evening to socialize and have a drink before dinner.”
“It’s beautiful”, said Shelly. “Who are the people in the paintings?”
“Former residents of the hotel”, Marcel said gesturing to the wall. “We still have a small number of long term residents here. When their stay here is complete we commission a painting.”
“They’re so expressive”, Shelly said. “It’s almost like a photograph capturing a special moment in time. Not like any painted portraits I’ve ever seen.”
“We have a very close relationship with our residents. We like to remember them in a way that captures their essence, sort of brings them to life so to speak.”
“Now watch your step”, Marcel said as we stepped into the elevator. “This old elevator has been here since the hotel was built back in 1927.”
“And it’s still working?”
“Like clockwork!”
He closed the elevator door and gate.
“The manager’s residence is on the roof. You’ll need this key to access it.”
He placed the key into the slot and turned it to the right, then pressing the button labeled R. The elevator slowly began to rise.
Passing each floor you could see through the etched window into the hallway where each one had a different color scheme and appointments.
The door to the residence suite didn’t have a window. It was painted the same burgundy as the awnings outside, with an oval brass plaque that read, Mr & Mrs Gladwell.
Albert smiled. Shelly let loose with a breathy “Wow” when she saw the plaque.
Marcel reached for the door, “Allow me” and swung it open.
The entryway opened to the sprawling main room of the suite.
“The master bedroom is to the left and beyond the main room is the solarium that opens to the rooftop garden.” Marcel said.
“Marcel” Shelly asked, “where’s the kitchen?”
“There isn’t one cher. All meals and refreshments are provided by the hotel. But, if you should ever get tired of the cuisine here, restaurants and drinking establishments from the Garden District to the French Quarter will provide you with anything you desire. Just say you’re the manager of the Pontchartrain.”
Marcel walked into the master bedroom and opened a set of french doors to a walk-in closet full of new clothes with dozens of pairs of shoes in racks that lined the center built-in dressers.
“I took the liberty of ordering wardrobes for both of you, I hope you don’t mind.” Marcel said.
“Mind?”, Albert said holding his forehead. “No.., I mean, this is amazing.”
Shelly was speechless looking through the dresses and outfits. She held up one dress and looked in the three mirrors positioned in the corner so you could see yourself from all angles, “How did you know our sizes?”
“Why, It’s my job to know these things cher”, Marcel nodded.
Marcel moved into the middle of the main room and held the elevator key up before placing it on the table behind the sofa, “Dinner service starts at 7:00 and drinks are served at 6:00. However, since this is your first night here, how about we have drinks and dinner brought up here?”
Albert and Shelly looked at each other, “That.., that would be great! Thank you”, they said in broken unison.
“My pleasure.” Marcel walked to the elevator, “Have a beautiful evening you two. We’ll talk in the morning when I show you around the hotel to meet the staff.” He closed the door and the elevator began it’s journey back down.
Albert and Shelly walked around in a circle looking at each other and taking everything in. “Drinks and dinner will be served up here..” Albert said in the best Creole accent he could muster.., they both laughed.
“Can you believe this?” Shelly asked.
“I’m trying to..,” Albert chuckled, “I mean I’m.., uh..,”
“Speechless?”
“Uh, yeah!”
“Hello Albert” the voice breaking the silence sounded hollow, almost tinny.
Startled Albert turned quickly. A woman, wispy and transparent like she was made out of vapor slowly appeared.
“Who are you”, Albert said under his breath.
“You don’t recognize me Albert?” she said as she moved slowly towards him.
“Why would I recognize you? I don’t.., know you.” Albert stepped backwards nearly knocking down the lamp next to the sofa by the doors leading to the garden.
“Oh Albert, you really should try to remember the faces of the people you run down with your car!”
“What?” Albert said so softly it was almost inaudible. “No.., no this is impossible. You’re not real!”
“Not real? Oh, I’m real”, She continued moving towards him.
“No! You’re not real. You’re not real!”, he shouted.
Albert sprang up in bed breathing heavy, sweat beading on his forehead.
“What’s the matter?” Shelly said sitting up reaching for the lamp on the bedside table. “Did you have another bad dream? Albert.., that’s the third one this week. What’s going on?”
Albert got up and walked toward the door of the bedroom. He looked around nervously expecting to find something but hoping not to.
“It’s like my dreams are being haunted by this woman’s ghost. She won’t leave me alone!”
“Woman? What woman?”, Shelly started to get out of the bed. “Albert, what’s going on?”
“It’s nothing. Go back to bed.” He said walking to the garden doors, whispering, “It was just a dream.”
The nights were turning colder as fall approached.
Albert walked out to the garden like he does every night. A numbing cold enveloped him, “Jeez” his breath becoming visible as he rubbed his arms. The familiar form haunting his dreams started to take shape in the mist in front of him.
“No.., not again.., what do you want?”
“What do I want?”, her voice had an empty sound when she spoke. “You killed me. Don’t you even regret, oh.., wait. What’s done is done. You can’t change the past. Isn’t that how you put it Albert?”
“This isn’t real!” Albert visibly shaken, his eyes eagerly looking for an escape route.
“You couldn’t stay and face the consequences of what you’d done. You were just on a drunken joy ride when you hit us. But then you ran, like a thief in the night. Look at you, you’re even looking for somewhere to run now.”
“No, no, no.., this isn’t happening!” He stepped backwards and stumbled on the rock path that ran the outside of the garden.
“What’s going on?”, Shelly’s voice broke through the doors as she ran out to the garden.
“You see! I told you it was a ghost! She won’t leave me alone!” Albert’s voice cracked as he spoke.
Shelly looked where Albert was pointing. The mist clearly showing the outline of a figure. She could see a woman with shoulder length wavy hair, slightly graying. She had a gentle look on her face that was somehow familiar. It almost reminded her of…, “Momma?”, the words came out of Shelly’s mouth before she realized what she was saying.
“What…” Albert slowly stepping back again, shocked with what was happening.
“Yes baby.., it’s me.”
“How.., why?” Shelly covered her mouth with her hands.
“Release me from my earthly bonds so I can move on. Tell me you regret your actions!”
Shelly’s face flushed with emotion, looked to Albert. “What?”
“This can’t…”, Albert said as he stumbled backwards again.
“You? You were the one driving the other car?” Shelly pushed Albert, her voice more tense with every word. “All this time!”
“No, wait, I didn’t know.., I swear I.., I didn’t know.” His hands were outstretched as if trying to hand something to her. “Baby, what do you want me to do?”
“You killed my mother!” Shelly pushed Albert again and watched as he fell backwards, his arms swinging in circles trying to catch himself on the air. “I’m sorry”, he exclaimed as he disappeared below the roof edge.
“Apology accepted”, Shelly said softly turning to look at the spirit of her mother.
“Thank you baby. I’m free now.”
Shelly reached out, “Momma, wait”, as the form faded into the night.
The crowd gathered quickly, as seems to be the case when things like this happen. People are always so interested in the pain and suffering of others.
Marcel made his way through the crowd to see Albert laying on the sidewalk. He looked up and saw Shelly standing there, blank look on her face. He walked over to her.
“I pushed him..,”
Marcel interrupted her. “Don’t say anything cher.” He wrapped his suit coat around her. “Let’s get you back inside. You don’t need to see this.”
“Marcel”, the voice came from behind him in the crowd.
Marcel turned around, “Remy.., I’ve been waiting for you.” He motioned to someone in the hotel to take Shelly inside.
Remy Dupree is a detective on the New Orleans police force. A small stocky man with a face that always has a look of concern.
The two men shook hands.
“Did you know this man Marcel?”
“He was the manager of the hotel.”
“Oh, I see.”, Remy looked around and called out to one of the patrolmen, “We have..,”
“An accidental fall”, said Marcel.
“An accidental fall.., he was the manager of the hotel and slipped on the walkway on the roof.” Remy turned back to Marcel and said, “You’re going to need to replace that slippery walkway so this doesn’t happen again Mr. Trudeaux.”
“Yes sir”, Marcel replied.
“Was that his wife back there?”
“Yeah.., they’d been married a little over a year.” Marcel said looking towards the hotel.
“Will she be ok?”
“Oh yes indeed. The Pontchartrain always takes good care of their own Remy, you know that. She’ll never have a care in the world again.”
The two men looked at each other in acknowledgement.
“Give your lovely wife a hug for me Marcel.”
“I will do that Remy.., and tell your Daddy I’ll look for him tomorrow at dinner. The chef is making gumbo.”
The sun shone through the branches of the trees as Marcel walked outside. The Scissortails gracefully darting through the branches of the oak trees catching mayflies.
A couple passing by the desk saw a worker hanging a new painting.
“What a lovely painting”, the woman said.
“Yes it is”, said Marcel.
“Who are they?”
“A mother and daughter. The mother was a former resident of the hotel.”
The rhythmic clanging of the street car announced it’s approach. Coming to a stop in front of the hotel a couple stepped off.
“Why you must be Mr and Mrs Kenton.”
“Yes.., I’m Doug Kenton and this is my wife Ellie.”
“I’m Marcel Trudeaux Mr. Kenton, but please call me Marcel. Welcome to the Pontchartrain.”