Love Finds You in New Orleans(56)

Lottie learned that Paul’s parents and sisters were well, the weather was sometimes chill and sometimes warm, and the city seemed to be expanding. Other than expressing that she was pleased to meet Paul, which she surely was not, Lottie had not accomplished much more than discovering that each flower on her skirt had an uneven number of petals. Clearly not a topic Miss Leslie would find appropriate. But without being considered “vulgar,” women were permitted to discuss music, books, or art as long as they did not assert themselves.

The conversation had fortunately progressed to the safe topic of William Shakespeare. Lottie remembered Grand-père laughing goodnaturedly after she commented on a play they had finished reading. Surely her intended would have the same response. What harm could there be in providing a moment of levity?

Being careful to not let her eyes linger on their guest, Lottie said, “It appears to me that The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet is one of William Shakespeare’s gravest plays.”





Chapter Twenty-Four

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Gabriel held Alcee’s hand to steady her as she walked across the board placed over a particularly putrid drainage ditch clogged with the muck of dead mice and sewage. She pinched her nose with her other hand until they turned the corner, where even the soot-choked wind from the smokestacks of the riverboats provided relief.

Alcee covered her mouth with her handkerchief. “Yu mud do somedin.”

“Please forgive me,” he said with a small bow from the waist in his sister’s direction. “I am not familiar with that language.”

She removed the handkerchief to reveal a smirk. “You must do something about all this.” Alcee waved her hand in the direction of the street. “Isn’t this what engineers do? Solve these sorts of problems?”

“For now, it is your time to attend school, which is still a few blocks away, so you need to move those little feet of yours faster.”

“Do not condescend,” she said, turning up her face and folding her arms. Seconds later, she laughed. “I learned that word yesterday. But…” She paused, her face more serious. “It is not my little feet that are at fault. Do you see how I am dressed?” She sighed. “I should sew twenty pounds of lead into your frock coat. Then we would see whose feet are little.”

“So what are your thoughts about Monsieur Joubert?” Gabriel trusted his sister to be forthright.

“Is that the reason you wanted to escort me to school? To find out more information about him?”

He should never doubt Alcee’s ability to get to the point. That quality would serve her well as she grew older. “Not at first. But after Maman said she needed to leave early today to buy produce at the French Market, I thought it would be a good time for us to talk. Joseph seems to spend more and more time with our mother, so…”

“Maybe not as much as you think. He still has jobs to finish from wherever he moved from, so he comes and goes. He leaves for a few days at a time. Maman says she understands. I think she is…content.” She nodded as if verifying the truth even to herself.

Gabriel thought about what his sister said—and then he thought something he wished he had not. “You don’t think he might be married, do you?” He didn’t know Joubert well enough to believe he would be capable of such a deception, but then that was the problem, wasn’t it?

Alcee sidestepped a woman slinging water as she dipped her brush back and forth to scrub her stairs and doorway with red-brick dust. The woman paused as they walked by, her apron, calico dress bodice, and sleeves damp and coated with the red-orange ash. When she turned to wave at them and say, “Bonjour, mes amis,” her dark face glistened, and her smile was wide under her deep-set brown eyes.

They wished her a good day, and after they passed, Alcee said, “No. I think Monsieur Joubert is without a wife. He is far too appreciative of some things Maman does, like serve him his meals and coffee. Were he a husband, I think he would expect her to do those things. Or”—she poked Gabriel’s shoulder—“he is a good actor. Like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not Maman who needs to put red-brick dust on her door to ward off curses. Perhaps you believe in the folktale and have considered sprinkling it on the LeClercs’ doorstep.”

They reached the front of her school, and Alcee—as usual—trailed behind the other students as they made their way to the tall paneled doors of the building. Her response confused Gabriel. From whom would the LeClercs need protection? “I still do not understand your point.”