People and secrets from the past threaten to disrupt Nola Trenholm’s new life in New Orleans in the third novel of the Royal Street series by New York Times bestselling author Karen White.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Karen White’s The Lady on the Esplanade, which releases on November 4th 2025.
Nola is ready to focus on starting over in the Big Easy. She wants to get back to work on the renovations of her Creole cottage, and she is eager to launch a new murder-house-flipping business with contractor, closet psychic, and part-time nemesis Beau Ryan. After a near-death ghostly encounter and the return of Beau’s missing sister, they are confident that the ghost of his mother can finally rest.
Nola believes the shotgun house on famed Esplanade Avenue is a prime fixer-upper for her first project. It may have been the site of a woman’s murder and the disappearance of an entire family, but the house will be perfect for new-to-town Cooper Ravenel—who happens to have caused Nola’s first heartbreak.
That’s the least of Nola’s worries, though. In addition to the elusive spirit of an angry young woman who accompanied Cooper to New Orleans, the house on Esplanade has its own ghosts, including one that is becoming increasingly dangerous as he tries to hide his dark secrets. And the wet footprints from the spirit of Beau’s mother have returned to let them know there is still unfinished business before she can rest. Spectral danger is headed toward them, and it’s up to Nola to convince Beau to help before it’s too late. . . .
“Nola? You still there?”
“Right. Sorry. The car sounds old. And expensive. You know I can’t afford—”
“It’s free! You just need to transfer the title and get it insured, and it’s all yours. Grandmama got it from Ida Peacock when her husband, Dew, passed on. He loved that car more than anything else—including Ida, according to her and just about everybody in town—and he wanted to be buried in it. Ida didn’t want to go to the expense for ‘that damn car’—those are her words, not my grandmama’s, who doesn’t cuss— and she didn’t want it sitting in her garage and acting like a slap in the face every time she saw it, so she just gave it to Grandmama to offset the funeral costs. But Grandmama said she’s too old to be driving a red car and offered it to me.”
“Then you take it,” I said distractedly as my gaze traveled over the interior of the armoire, taking in a small, mirrored door with yet another empty keyhole. The mirror was head height, making me think it had been meant for knotting a tie or combing hair. The door was shut fast with no knob, making me guess that the absent key doubled as the knob, and when I tried to insert the flat head of the screwdriver it was clear that this particular door was locked.
Squatting, I reached into the back recesses of the armoire in search of a key, but instead of finding one, my fingers touched cool, hard glass. I recalled the sound of something falling when I pried open the door, and when I drew out my hand I found myself holding an old bottle of perfume. The dark brown, viscous contents were half‑gone, and when I pulled off the brass cap the spray nozzle was clogged and sticky. I lifted the bottle to my nose, the lingering scent vaguely familiar.
“I can’t accept a new car, Nola. Bubba would never forgive me. It would be like having an affair, and I’m not a cheater.”
I closed my eyes, trying to place the scent, only partially listening to Jolene. “You’re not married, so that wouldn’t count as cheating.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. And are you even listening? I’m offering you a free car—and not just a free car but a really cool vintage Mustang in mint condition. All you need to do is drive down with me to Mississippi to collect it, and it’s all yours!”
The sound of small running feet rumbled in the adjacent room. My head jerked up, smacking the bottom of the top shelf of the armoire, making the hangers shimmy. “Cooper?” I called, even though I knew it couldn’t have been him running in the next room. I’d heard the sound of bare feet against wooden floors. Bare, small feet that didn’t belong to Cooper. I’d heard them before—the first time I’d been to the house with Beau.
“Nola?” Jolene’s worried voice called through the phone. “Is everything all right?”
“Hang on a sec.” I tiptoed to the door, then peered out into the adjacent room. As I turned to go back into the bedroom, I stepped on something. Lifting my foot, I spotted a stubby brass key—an old‑ fashioned kind usually found with antique furniture. Like an armoire.
“Thank you,” I said to the emptiness.
“You’re welcome,” Jolene replied. “I’m thinking the best time would be Thanksgiving. You can bring your laptop and work in the car on the way down”
I tuned her voice out to concentrate on jabbing the key into the keyhole inside the armoire. The lock turned without any resistance. Gently pulling on the key, I opened the door and looked inside, blinking twice to register what it was I was seeing. A pair of lifeless blue eyes in a pale round face met my gaze. The object the eyes were connected to fell forward, somersaulting off the shelf upon which it had been resting, then hit my foot with a soft thud. It rolled forward, coming to rest at my feet, the sightless eyes staring up at me in silent supplication.
Excerpted from THE LADY ON ESPLANADE by Karen White, published by Berkley, an imprint of Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House, LLC. Copyright © 2025
