Love Finds You in New Orleans(72)
Happened to be? However limited Lottie’s personal romantic experience, she’d read a sufficient number of books to know that for women like Nathalie, coincidence required thoughtful planning.
They turned the corner onto Orleans Street, and Father François’s sudden appearance saved Lottie from responding.
“Good evening, Father,” said Gabriel. “May we ask a favor of you?”
The priest appeared frail in the folds of his long brown cassock, which was bound with a thick cord around his waist. His long nose and thin white hair and face narrowing to the point of his chin might have been severe except for his warm eyes and easy smile. “Yes, of course.” He glanced from Gabriel to Lottie and back to Gabriel. “But I am on my way to visit a family whose child is ill. Depending on the nature of your favor, we may need to meet tomorrow.”
Gabriel started to explain. “The favor is not for the two of us, except that—”
“I promised someone I would place something in the collection box, and the cathedral is locked,” Lottie blurted. “I apologize for interrupting, but we do not want to delay your visit.”
“Your understanding is appreciated. I am happy to help. If you would just give me what you needed to place, I will be sure that it is done.”
Lottie’s hand closed over the note. “But I promised I would do it myself.”
Father François looked more amused than annoyed. “I can be trusted with your friend’s donation.”
“It’s…it’s not exactly a donation, and it has to be there tonight.”
“In that case, you must trust me.” He waited as a couple strolled by, exchanged greetings, and walked on. “I am not a stranger to these unusual donations.”
Lottie looked at Gabriel. “Yes. I trust him,” he told her.
Her hand trembled as she drew the note out of her pocket and placed it in Father’s outstretched hand. He closed his fingers over the paper and tucked it into one of the folds of his cassock. Two lives. Lottie shuddered. Oh, please God, let me not have trusted in vain.
“I open the collection box daily. That paper was meant for me,” said Father François. He clasped her still-shaking hands. “You do not need to fear. They will be safe.”
Chapter Thirty
...........................
Lottie came down to breakfast and waited for one of her grandparents to question her about the night before, since they had arrived home first. The sour expression on her grandmother’s face when she saw them concerned Lottie more for Agnes than for herself.
After announcing “Good morning” in her cheeriest of voices, Lottie poured herself coffee from the breakfront and took her seat at the table. She filled her bowl with grits and made a small crater in the middle, which she filled with a pat of molded butter that melted into a creamy yellow pool. She stirred the melted butter into her grits and added a slice of ham to her plate.
“We were quite surprised not to find you home last night after you declined our invitation to join us on the levee,” said her grandmother, who looked at her husband and then at her granddaughter after the declaration.
She didn’t ask the “where” question, which meant she had probably already spoken to Agnes. Lottie was sure Agnes would have told her grandmother the truth; she just wasn’t sure how much of it. But years of being the subject of Grand-mère’s inquisitions had taught her how to play this game. Lottie cut her ham and said, with the matter-of-factness of Madame Dumas, “Oh, I’m sure that did come as a surprise,” and continued to eat.
Grand-père coughed several times into his napkin, and Grandmère’s coffee cup stopped, for a moment, midway to the saucer.
Her grandmother cleared her throat. “Charlotte, whatever do you mean?”
“Paul will be here again tonight, so it’s obvious who the clear choice is. I want to know why. Why Paul Bastion? And please, please be honest with me. This city is too small to keep secrets.”
“I don’t know how you expect us to address this question when your grandfather and I have not been given time to discuss it.”
The message Grand-mère transmitted was as loud as a steamboat’s whistle. She didn’t want Lottie to know the answer, or at least there was part of it she wanted to protect, but she couldn’t without speaking to Grand-père first.
“Are you telling me that my grandparents have selected someone without knowing why? Or do you mean you cannot tell me without speaking to one another first?” Lottie’s feigned astonishment signaled that she didn’t believe her own questions.