Color Blind by Sheila; Sobel Page A

will still be interested, won’t you?”
    “I’ll think about it.”
    “Of course, take all the time you need, as long as the answer is
yes
.”
    “Yes!” I laughed. “Tell me about the work you volunteered me for today.”
    “There are a number of humanitarian organizations that worked, and are still working, to restore the Ninth Ward. Habitat for Humanity and Make It Right are just two of them. Harry Connick Jr. and Branford Marsalis worked with Habitat for Humanity to build a new village and beautiful park for the displaced musicians of New Orleans. We’re going to drive right by it.”
    “Marsalis. He’s a musician, right?”
    “Yes, he is, so is his father and his three brothers. Brad Pitt—you may have heard of him—established the Make It Right Foundation in 2007. His commitment not only helped the community, but the environment as well. Everything has been built as ‘green’ as humanly possible. There’s a lot of innovative stuff happening here. For an aspiring—and might I add, handsome—architect, I’ve had the opportunity to work with cutting edge design and construction techniques. It’s been a phenomenal experience for me.”
    “That’s great! How nice for you that you can pursue something you enjoy and obviously have a talent for.” I waited a beat, then eased into the next subject, “Miles, is there anything more you can tell me about Voodoo? I’m really curious about it and was thinking I might want to go to a real Voodoo ceremony.”
    “You want to do what? Go to a Voodoo ceremony?
Why?
” asked Miles, bewildered. “It’s not something you can just go to, like a concert or something. You have to be invited by someone in the inner circle, a devotee. Clearly, I’m
not
that guy.”
    Miles’s face clouded as we drove through the impoverished neighborhood in an uncomfortable silence. I chewed on my bottom lip while I processed what to say next.
    “Um, I’m sorry, Miles. I promise I won’t ever ask you again about Voodoo . . . Is this the part where I should drop in one of those random factoids you gave me because our conversation is lagging?” I tried to make light of the situation.
    Miles shook his head and sighed. “You are a handful, Miss April, no doubt about it.”
    He slowed the Jeep in front of the construction site. I was surprised to see we were just down the block from Angel’s house, angered to see that parked at the curb in front of Angel’s house was Kate’s cherry-red Mini Cooper.
    What’s she doing here? Obviously, she doesn’t trust me. She’s spying on me.
    I opened the Jeep door and jumped out, ready for a fight.

Chapter Fifteen
    Before another angry thought could cross my mind, Angel, with Gumbo at her heels, ran towards me.
    “You came! You came!” Angel skidded to a halt in front of me. “Your Auntie’s already here,” she said, leading me down the cracked, uneven sidewalk. Angel looked back at Miles. “Well, don’t just stand there!”
    Miles pointed to the construction site, started to speak, but changed his mind and caught up with us. Gumbo galloped ahead and beat us up the porch stairs. Kate, surprised to see us, rose too quickly, splashing her skirt with tea.
    “What are you doing here?” Kate and I asked simultaneously.
    “I left my belt here yesterday. I brought this for Gumbo,” replied Kate, dangling a new leash in front of me.
    I narrowed my eyes. “You mean you’re not here to check up on me?”
    “What? You can’t be serious. How on earth would I even know you’d be here? You never told me where you two were going, remember?”
    Angel tapped Miles on the arm, whispered, “Are they always like this?”
    “Don’t know,” said Miles, leaning against the railing to watch the show.
    A loud crack caught everyone’s attention. We watched in horror as Miles was propelled backwards into the yard, arms and legs whirling like helicopter blades, scattering broken railing pieces far and wide over the dirt. Miles landed with a