The House of Jazz The Story of Beau & Celeste
As best as anyone can piece together
New Orleans has always kept secrets better than it keeps promises. The ones worth knowing are never written down. They live in the plaster of old buildings, in the smell of bourbon and jasmine on a hot night, in the way certain rooms feel inhabited even when they’re empty. This is one of those secrets.
Beauregard Lacroix was the kind of man New Orleans made on purpose. Old money. Old name. The sort of family whose portrait hangs in rooms nobody uses anymore. He wore his inheritance the way most men wear good shoes, naturally, without thinking, occasionally aware of how much they cost. He was not cruel. He was not careless. He was simply a man who had never wanted for anything and had therefore never truly wanted. Until the night he heard Celeste Fontenot sing.
