Love Finds You in New Orleans(36)

Without waiting for an answer, she glided onto the stool and unbuttoned her mantelet, a delicate pink that matched the bow just below the hollow of her neck and the small buttons down the center front of her dress. She looked at him with the expectancy of a woman awaiting a compliment.

Not sure if his temporary inability to speak was due to Nathalie seeing him as a server or his seeing Nathalie, Gabriel thought the best course of action was to dispense with the jumble of cups and plates he held. “So good to see you. Would you excuse me? I need to take these to Rosette.” He mentally kicked himself for sounding as uncomfortable as he felt.

“I won’t go away. I promise.” She started removing her gloves as if to prove that she would not be leaving.

He deposited the china inside the deep wooden tub they used for washing and dried his hands. Rosette handed him a fresh cup of café au lait and nodded in Nathalie’s direction. “Is that—?”

“Yes. Little Nathalie Chaigneau.” He saw Rosette’s eyebrows arch even higher and her mouth open to speak. “I know. I know. She’s not so little anymore.”

His mother smiled. “Well, at least you noticed. That’s a beginning.”

Her remark unnerved him. He set the cup down on the counter. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you need to hear it.” She reached for more cups. “We can talk later.”

“I don’t have anything to say. Not now.” Gabriel walked away before she could answer and made his way to Nathalie. He set the cup in front of her. “I suppose I should have asked if you wanted coffee.”

“Why else would I be here?” She moved her gloves to her lap. “Thank you. I will probably need another soon.” She glanced around the café.

“Oh, you are meeting someone.” Of course. Why would someone as attractive as Nathalie find herself alone in a café drinking coffee?

“Yes. A friend I haven’t had an opportunity to spend much time with since I returned.” She sipped her coffee. “How have you been? I don’t see you out much.”

“No. I spend most of my time here or helping Rosette at home with her pralines.” Hearing himself, he realized how feeble that must sound. At least he escaped having to admit that in front of the man she was there to meet.

She tilted her head. The simple yet tightly wrapped dove-gray tignon, two soft pink feathers banding one side, drew more attention to her face. “Then we must change that. A group of us will be at the opera Saturday. Why don’t you join us?”

He didn’t have a reason to refuse. “Yes. Yes, I will do that.”

She clapped her hands. “C’est magnifique! Great news. I look forward to it. We usually meet at six o’clock outside the theatre. My family has seats. I will be sure to save one for you.”

At some other time, Gabriel would have argued against a ticket being provided for him. But the café was not the place nor Nathalie the person for that discussion. “Thank you.”

She smiled but looked past him and waved. “My friend. She is here.”

The tall young woman, elegant in her expensive French silk-andlace dress and triple pearl strands, moved in their direction. Not only was she au courant with fashion, but she wore money with the selfassurance displayed only by those who had it in abundance. That the wealth did not originate with her was revealed by her equally understated but bejeweled tignon.

She looked familiar, and when Nathalie introduced her, “This is my friend, Serafina Lividaus,” Gabriel remembered exactly where he had last seen her.

“I am pleased to see you again,” she said.

Serafina.

The woman Rosette comforted in their parlor.

The woman who thought she might be pregnant with Paul Bastion’s child.



* * * * *


The first few months after Rosette ended her relationship with Jean Noel, Gabriel heard the maids and children of other placées weave the most elaborate tales about his mother and father. All of them involved a version of how, why, or when Jean Noel left, because a placée asking her protector to end their left-handed marriage would be so unusual as to be unbelievable. When he heard stories of his mother wanting more children, not wanting more children, spending too much money, not pleasing Jean Noel, or whatever the tale du jour, Gabriel said nothing. His mother had promised his father not to reveal the truth so as to protect his reputation, which, ironically, made her the protector. And so Gabriel had honored his mother’s request that he not disclose what he knew to be the truth. Maintaining silence and his temper were crucial, and that promise to his mother was one of the most difficult Gabriel had ever experienced.