* * * * *.
Helping Rosette distracted Gabriel, and it prevented him from the likelihood of seeing Lottie. Then, perhaps because she thought he needed more to do, Rosette asked him to help Monsieur Joubert with the designs for both their house and the café. Gabriel noticed how the builder stopped in daily even before his mother approached him about assisting with the plans. When Gabriel mentioned to Rosette the frequency of Joubert’s visits, she told him that Joubert needed to observe the ebb and flow of the business. It appeared to Gabriel that the design plans of interest to the builder had more to do with his mother than the customers.
The first day Gabriel met Joubert at the house to discuss the kitchen plans, he considered that he might have misunderstood the builder’s intentions at the café. Instead of a discussion of the plans at the table or in the parlor, Joubert wanted Gabriel outside, demonstrating how he and Rosette worked around the kitchen area. While Gabriel modeled, Joubert asked questions and wrote notes.
“Aren’t you enclosing the space? What is the purpose of this?” Gabriel never felt comfortable performing.
“Some builders do simply bring the two spaces together. But not everyone works in a space in the same manner. For instance, not everyone has to make the quantity of food that is made here. Or as often. These are important details,” Joubert shared as they walked through the alley to the banquette.
Gabriel nodded. “I had not thought of building this way. To me, it is a matter of having the money, the materials, and the manpower.”
Joubert smiled. “Well put.” He pointed to the vocal couple across the street, whose gestures and volume attested to the conversation’s contentiousness. “Think of it as a relationship. All women and men have the same construction. But that does not always mean they fit together well.”
And that explains why some fall into ruins.
Chapter Seventeen
...........................
On the way home from her last dress fitting, Lottie asked if she could be let out at Justine’s house so as not to be late for their pianoforte lesson. “You know how Justine hates when people—what does she call it? Oh, ‘dillydally,’ that’s it,” she told her grandmother as the cab turned onto their street.
Grand-mère parted the inner curtain of the carriage and peered outside. “You don’t have a lesson today So we are going directly to the house.”
“Is Madame Fontenot ill?” Lottie couldn’t imagine anything else keeping the woman away from torturing her and Justine.
“No. Justine will have her lesson today as planned.” Grand-mère let the curtain fall. “With the party and the dressmaker appointments… I thought we…you did not need to be bothered with something else that needed attention.”
If Justine’s lesson had also been cancelled, Lottie might have celebrated the news with enthusiasm. “I will have one the week following, yes?”
Grand-mère sighed. “Perhaps. We will need to wait until that time is nearer. But you can always practice at home.”
Lottie held out her hand and placed it against the side of the carriage to steady herself as it jostled over the gutter into the flagstone porte cochère. Practicing alone only sounded inviting if the other choice were sitting alone with Grand-mère. Why would I just begin taking lessons if I would be stopping them so soon? A question better asked of Grand-père, Lottie decided.
Abram opened the cab door. “Be careful now, Miz LeClerc. These stones still slippery from the rain this morning.”
“You’d tell me that even if the stones were dry, Abram,” Grandmère remarked, and, to Lottie’s surprise, did so kindly.
While her grandmother concentrated on her footing, Abram winked at Lottie. “Yes ma’am. Don’t want nothin’ bad to happen to you.”
Lottie hid her grin behind one hand and reached for Abram with the other.
“You too, Miz Charlotte.” Abram gave her hand a squeeze and smiled.
“Abram.” Grand-mère waited for Lottie to alight, and he looked in her direction. “Remember, I need you and Agnes to pick up the supplies from Monsieur Laroche’s grocery. And, Lottie, I am going to take a nap. I suggest you do the same.”
After standing in a dress that weighed thirty pounds, required a corset made for a twelve-year-old, and overemphasized her décolletage, Lottie needed movement. She summoned her sweetest voice to ask her grandmother if she could accompany Agnes and Abram to the grocery because, as she continued, “Some of the best families in the city shop there, and then I’d know everything available for the dinners I will be planning.”