Several times he wanted to shrug off his own coat and wrap it around the shoulders of a child whose arms weren’t much thicker than twigs. But his two coats would have been quickly gone, and thirty times that many would have been insufficient. Alcee was right. Collecting gloves left at the café or from people who donated old ones was not going to be enough if they were going to clothe the children at the orphanages and the families in their reading classes. Of course, Alcee, for her own protection, knew nothing of those classes. But for the orphans, she volunteered to ask her classmates for old clothes. Gabriel told her he didn’t want her to be perceived as a beggar. Alcee had looked up at him from her book and said, “If I am helping children, I do not care if others think I am begging. Would it be better for them to be cold?”
Gabriel entered the café and tugged off his own gloves, putting them in the pocket of his coat. He shook his head and thought how his younger sister’s wisdom shamed his own at times.
“There you are.”
Joseph’s voice surprised Gabriel, who had arrived early and expected he would be there before the builder.
“Joseph.” Gabriel nodded. “How did you—?”
Joseph held up a key, which he returned to his vest pocket. “Rosette told me to just use this to come in through the kitchen area. In case you weren’t here yet.”
Gabriel didn’t hear an apologetic tone, and Joseph didn’t offer the key. So, not only did his mother trust this man, but Joseph was confident she did so. “I see.”
“Good. Then let’s get started.” He waved the rolled-up papers in his hand like a baton and walked in the direction of the kitchen. Gabriel followed him and listened while he pointed out areas where they could redesign the serving and cooking areas to be more efficient. Then Joseph walked around the seating area, showing Gabriel places he thought could be converted into counter spaces and where the seating area could be lengthened with awnings. He unrolled the papers on one of the tables. “Have a seat. I’d like to show you the plans I’ve designed.”
On a long sheet of foolscap, Joseph had sketched the original area then overlaid another sheet showing the changes he suggested. “Everything is drawn to scale, so the proportions would be the same. Of course, we would do the changes in phases so as to disrupt the business as little as possible.”
The designs evidenced Joseph’s attention to detail as well as his precise measurings and drawings. Gabriel had not considered building structures, such as homes or smaller buildings, to involve much more than ordering lumber and construction materials. Studying the plans before him, his interest was in more than the benefit to the café or even his house. It intrigued him to envision these spaces and remodel and repurpose them—using skills not so unlike those he would use in engineering. “How did you come to learn this?”
Joseph leaned back on the stool and seemed puzzled. “I thought you had seen me here at the café watching how you and your mother worked, and—”
“No, that isn’t what I meant. I know you have spent time here. How did you learn about designing?” Gabriel pointed to the plans on the table between them.
“Oh,” Joseph said, the confusion on his face dissipating. “Construction.” He rolled up the plans. “How much time do you have?”
“Until the first customer arrives and all night,” Gabriel answered, his expression grim.
It was Saturday. The night of Lottie’s birthday and coming-out party.
Chapter Twenty-One
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Agnes carried Madame Olympe’s creation into Lottie’s room and transferred it to her bed as if the tulle was of thin sheets of glass instead of fabric.
“The dress weigh more than you. Guess they don’t plan on you moving much.” Agnes eyed the dress the way she eyed Henri when she’d find him lounging on one of the upholstered chairs in Lottie’s bedroom.
“Maybe Grand-mère had Madame sew weights into the skirt. She knows how awfully excited I am about this soirée, and she feared I would float way.” Lottie leaned against one of the bedposts, since she had already been too corseted to attempt sitting. She placed her hands around the waist of the black satin corset, and her fingertips almost met. “Agnes, this is unbearable, and the party is over an hour away.”
“You wearing six petticoats, Miz Lottie, ’fore we even get you in that dress. Dey so stiff, your grandmother said your waist hafta be at seventeen inches.”
“I should have dressed downstairs in the exact spot we will greet guests. Then I wouldn’t need to move.” Except for when she possibly fainted from lack of food or breath.