Light notes of jasmine and honeysuckle brush the almost non-existent breeze of a New Orleans sunset. The beauty and the cloying intensity of summer heat make it a place like nowhere else. It's been a long time since Eleni has been able to sit in her garden and watch the sunset. It stirs emotion in her heart, memories of happy days and of the sting of loss mingling together.

For everything that is lost, something else is gained.

Remembering this mantra is something that's pulled Eleni through the chaotic journey of her life. The woman who sits in the garden, mesmerised by the scents and colours of a home almost forgotten, is a pretty thing who looks twenty-five. Perhaps she becomes older when she speaks of her children with the pride reserved for mothers who have grown past themselves and into the world of others. Perhaps, upon closer inspection, she's more sophisticated than a cursory glance betrays. She is not a seductive girl in a black summer dress and dramatic red lipstick, pulling her hair back into a thick black braid that gives her an air of timelessness. Instead. she is a wealthy young wife of about thirty who can afford expensive jewels, and the procedures necessary to maintain a flawlessly pale complexion and bright blue eyes that show no hardship or worry.

Some people have the gift of being whoever others need them to be. In reality, Eleonore Vigneron Denimore is two hundred and forty-two years old.

She runs her hands through the New Orleans soil and watches the sunset the same way she did two centuries prior. Sometimes, it's the moments like this that make her feel as if no time has passed and nothing has ever changed.

Eleni clings to those. Change has been harder on her than most people; more dramatic, and certainly more final.

Whatever happened in life, she'd always come running back here. Eleni was born in the now-forgotten splendour of Versailles, once the jewel of France. It was now a tourist attraction, a monument to tragedy. She preferred not to pay her respects. Instead, a sprawling home once rumoured to be a plantation was her retreat, gardens buzzing with memories and roses.

People call it the Garden District for a reason, after all.

A sort of mournful expression touches Eleni's face, then fades into the pools of sapphire blue . It's as if she stores all her emotion in her eyes, making her expressions otherwise unreadable. It has taken her many decades to master the fine art of expression. Even when alone, she won't allow herself to be vulnerable.

Eleni is surrounded by a ground full of holes, places where her beloved rose bushes once grew and thrived. Sadness mixes with anger as her fingers run through the soil of each one.

Odelie, she thinks to herself. Only her spiteful and rebellious youngest child, gifted with so much beauty, would find pleasure in destroying it. Removing the roses from the beautiful old home is certainly symbolic, like removing Eleni herself.

"Yvonne! Yvonne, come here, quickly." The peace is gone, and Eleni is about thirty seconds from launching into a tirade full of angry French phrases. The housekeeper, who had been Eleni's nursemaid as a child and served her faithfully to this day, loves the mysterious New Orleans mansion as deeply as Eleni does. Vandalism is an unforgivable act.

Perfectly polished crimson nails curl into the dirt. It's a rare shock when Eleni feels them grab on to a rolled piece of paper.

She's more spiteful than I thought, Eleni's mind whirls angrily. She buried whatever wasn't to be found under my roses, for who knows how long. Knowing her, she robbed a bank just to frame me.

Yvonne is out of breath and wiping her hands on her apron as she finds Eleni watching the sunset in the middle of the torn-up garden. "Madame Eleonore, we've been through this before. The neighbours find it strange when you garden at night. It's not normal. "

Eleni rolls her eyes like a petulant child. At that moment, the only difference between Odelie and herself is the unseemly habit the younger girl has of decorating herself with tattoos. She knows it, but she can't stand Yvonne's reminders to care what other people think. It's a tedious pretense. "First of all, the neighbours are not my business and they should mind theirs. Second, I'm not gardening. My daughter stole my roses and left me this..." Eleni almost spits out the word in anger and disgust as she unrolls the paper. "Map. It's a map?"

Yvonne peers at it, a flicker of interest on her face. "Which daughter? I haven't seen any kin in a while, but I'm guessing the map leads to wherever the prankster hid the roses, Madame. People play games like that. Don't ask why."

Eleni presses her lips together as she stands, the four-inch spikes of her black heels digging into the dirt. At full height, Eleni is a tall woman, standing 5'11" in the heels she is never without. She always wears short dresses that show off her long legs and thin build. Eleni is a Frenchwoman through and through. Her style could be nothing else. "It's Odelie, of course. My other children have better manners and hate me less." 

She considers the housekeeper's words. "You're probably right. The roses are probably dying of thirst and sun because she left them wherever this map leads. Can you imagine, such spite in one creature?"

Yvonne's eyes close as if she's refreshing her patience, but she wisely says nothing. Eleni doesn't care. She's used to sarcasm, unspoken or not. "Pack my overnight bag. I'm going to need a few dresses like this one, both black and red. I'll need an umbrella, sunglasses, a thin scarf, and of course, my black wrap."

Yvonne moves towards the house, her pace unnaturally quick. Eleni is faster and keeps pace with her beloved friend easily, listing items needed for a trip "Oh, a bit of perfume, since who knows where I'll end up. A bottle or two of water would be good, my compact, a handkerchief, some chocolates..."

"Chocolates make you sick, Madame Eleonore. You know that. They must be made for you and I haven't had time." Yvonne rummages through items in Eleni's room, instinctively knowing where everything is. "How will you bring the roses back? Even you can't carry so many at once."

Eleni frowns. Leave it to Yvonne to spoil her mood by thinking of practical things. "I'll take my chances with the regular chocolates. I want them. I suppose I'll just stick my purse in the bag so I have my phone and whatnot." Eleni freezes, taking a look at the map. "It's some sort of treasure map, but what if it's not the roses that are the treasure? What if it's something wonderful?"

Yvonne chuckles at Eleni's growing enthusiasm. "When have you ever known Mademoiselle Odelie to leave you something wonderful?"

A burst of laughter escapes Eleni's lips as her hands fly to the gold and ruby heirloom necklace that never leaves her. She wears matching earrings. To the untrained eye, they are ostentatious, and Eleni is happy to have the world see them as lovely pieces found at some hipster consignment shop.

To those who know better, the pieces advertise status and wealth, two things that still matter to Eleni. Every gem in her collection is genuine, and most tell a story. "You forget, Yvonne, I can charm a bear into lying down and pretending to be a rug. Whatever it is, I will make it wonderful."

Yvonne shakes her head at Eleni's habit of overestimating her own invincibility. Still, the bag is packed in no time. "Dagger?"

Eleni is a ninja with small knives and swords, though attempts at more modern weapons for self-defence ended disastrously. A trip to the gun range ended abruptly when Eleni somehow shot her own foot. "It's where it always is. I wouldn't leave home without it. Oh, that reminds me, cash. I don't want a paper trail." She holds out her hand, still reminiscent of a young girl waiting for her allowance.

It takes some rifling through drawers before Yvonne pulls out a small roll of American currency. No one deals in cash anymore, but for those like the Vigneron family, it's a necessity. "When are you going?"

Eleni's voice can barely contain its own excitement as she slings the small bag over her shoulder. "Now, of course. It looks like it's a few hours if I go as fast as I can, and so perhaps I can make it there and back by sunrise. Otherwise, I'll have to linger a whole day and return this time tomorrow."

"Do you want me to replace the roses?" Eleni is on the move again, and this time, it's Yvonne struggling to keep up with the thin but agile woman.  Eleni was born an impetuous creature, and time had done little to change her. This wouldn't be the first, or last, spontaneous adventure.

"Yvonne." Eleni stops abruptly, whirling around. "Don't be stupid. What if the map leads TO the roses? Why would I go retrieve them if I wanted more?"  She feels slightly chagrined when she sees the blush and the look of sadness on Yvonne's face. Yvonne had been like a mother to Eleni for all the years Eleni didn't have a mother and many before that.

"Now, bid me adieu and wish me luck. It is a long run and I am not as young as I used to be." Eleni smiles, kissing Yvonne's cheeks as she and her bag prepare to go wherever the map leads. As she predicts, the hurt on Yvonne's face fades. Eleni's ability to influence emotion is sometimes unpredictable but generally serves her well.

"None of us are, Madame Eleonore. Don't forget your cell phone, and give Odelie my love." Eleni waves as she moves out of the house effortlessly, breaking into a run once the stiletto heels hit the grass. Eleni doesn't know how to move in anything else, and she is hopelessly allergic to modern technology. She'll most likely lose her cell phone but return with a new pair of shoes.

Excitement builds as Eleni moves past the city lights, into the hazy mist of thick Louisiana air and sprawling trees trying in vain to provide shade. The movement begins to feel comfortable, natural. In a few hours, though, Eleni will be as exhausted as anyone else.

She doesn't care. Nothing feels better than freedom. As her heels fly over the ground, they don't even make a sound.

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