“What bothers you?” She tied her pinstriped apron around her waist—probably one of the few women in the city whose aprons complemented her dresses—and waved to Reverend François as he strolled in after his morning Mass.
Gabriel talked while she poured cups of café au lait and he arranged beignets on a plate. “Does this happen often, these notes?” He spoke as if asking her whether she’d enjoyed an opera she’d just attended. And she responded in the same manner.
“No. This is the first one I’ve ever received,” she said as she took the plate from him. “I’m bringing this to Père Antoine. Please ready some calas and beignets.”
Gabriel knew the ebb and flow of customers prevented a serious conversation, though it seemed to be serious only to him. What cause would there be for a builder to leave quickly to attend to a job in another city, one that would mean days away? Perhaps Alcee wanting to believe that Joseph was not married swayed her perception of him around their mother, who herself reacted calmly to what Gabriel considered an obvious cause for suspicion.
Better to know now that Joseph Joubert was a homme de paille, a sham not to be trusted. His father, Jean Noel, had never pretended to deceive, and Gabriel had believed in him. He almost believed in Joubert. At least this was a familiar path and Gabriel already knew where it led and where it had to end.
* * * * *
By the end of the day, Gabriel decided to confront Joseph Joubert before talking to his mother. He lacked any proof about Joseph leaving New Orleans because he had a family elsewhere, and Rosette would not tolerate an empty accusation. Nor should she. And with Alcee there, he especially was not going to open the discussion and chance that she would overhear.
When Alcee arrived at the café and asked Rosette about the construction, Rosette handed her Joseph’s note. His sister shrugged and gave it back to Rosette, saying, “He would not go if he was not needed.” She looked over her shoulder at Gabriel. “Don’t you agree?” she asked, her eyes two dark bullets ready to fire should he not provide the answer she expected.
“Yes. Yes, I do,” he said, nodding for emphasis. Gabriel needed to be civil now, so when they discovered the truth about Joseph later, his mother and sister would remember that he had done nothing to impugn the man’s character.
Alcee rewarded him with a smile as Rosette smoothed her daughter’s hair, tucking in stray pieces and readjusting her ivory combs. “Your hair reminds me of a chocolate-brown velvet gown I once wore to a ball. Sometimes, in the candlelight, it appeared to be sprinkled with gold dust. Like yours does in the sunlight.” She kissed the top of Alcee’s head. “Such a joy to be free of the tignon.”
Gabriel watched his mother and sister and thought of Lottie as a young girl. She carried her eagerness like an offering yet was deprived of anyone with whom she could share it. Lottie had not experienced the generous affection demonstrated between Rosette and Alcee. What she would have given to be the object of her grandmother’s affection.
Chapter Twenty-Five
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Alcee and Rosette were carrying coffee and a plate of éclairs from Vincent’s into the dining room when Gabriel heard the iron knocker fall three times on their door. Only people who didn’t know them well would enter that way, especially since the weather allowed the shutters and windows to be open.
“I will see who is here,” said Gabriel. He opened the door and found Nathalie and Serafina—and a fiacre on the street outside the house. The women were too late had they intentions to attend that night’s opera, but too early if their plans were to meet friends after.
“Good evening, Gabriel. Is Madame Girod home?” Nathalie’s question was an unusual request.
“Gabriel.” His mother’s voice coming from behind him was an admonishment. “Have you not invited these ladies into our home?”
“Of course.” He opened the door wide to accommodate their voluminous skirts and attempted not to appear on the outside like the six-year-old child he felt on the inside with his mother’s address. As they entered, he realized they wore bonnets, Nathalie’s with a long feather and Serafina’s, a showy collection of smoky plumes, ribbons, and flowers, in place of their usual tignons. So, appearing in public in the city had not been their intended destination at all.
“Please, be seated,” Rosette said. “If you would like to remove your capes, Alcee will be happy to place them in the cabinet.”
Gabriel watched his sister’s eyes brighten as first Nathalie presented her with a pale brown overcoat trimmed in the blue of her gown and then Serafina handed her a black velvet cape with ermine trim. Alcee rarely exhibited such extreme politeness. He had no doubt that each of the expensive capes would grace her body before hanging in the closet.