Love Finds You in New Orleans(81)

He set the last stool on top of the table so the floors could be mopped when Rosette opened in the morning. She had left early to pick up Alcee to be home in time to meet Joseph, who wanted to stake out the footprint for the addition to the house.

“What if we just go to Lafayette Square? It’s not far, it’s a lovely evening, and you need the company of someone with a sense of humor.”

Nathalie waited for his response. Her brown eyes, wide in anticipation, a delicate smile… She was beautiful. And yet, she wasn’t Charlotte. But perhaps that, too, could change.

“You win. Let me not be responsible for your demise.”



* * * * *


Lafayette Square in the early evening hummed with children and their nannies, both relishing a few more precious minutes of playtime but for entirely different reasons. With the hanging of the gaslamps and the dusky glow of the moon, the humming ceased and the tempo ebbed and flowed based on the intensity of the latest political discussions, the scattered lone musician playing to the stars, and the couples who either whispered or softly squabbled.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Gabriel told Nathalie, though she had not broached the subject of Lottie at all. He didn’t want it lingering like an unwelcomed guest in the corners of their conversations.

“Well, I’m not going to ask anything specifically about her. But I do want to tell you a story that my mother shared this past weekend.”

Nathalie told him that her mother, her two aunts, and her grandmother went to Antoine’s for lunch on Saturday. One of her aunts pointed to a nearby table and said that one of the young women there reminded her of someone who once lived near her. “In fact,” Nathalie said, “my mother said Tante Louise used the words ‘startling’ about how much they resembled each another. My aunt told them she hadn’t seen the woman for years and heard rumors that she’d left the country, then rumors she’d died. She never found out for sure, but she would recognize Mignon anywhere.”

Gabriel continued to gaze vacantly.

“She was pointing to Charlotte,” Nathalie said.

Gabriel shrugged. “Yes, that is an interesting story.”

Nathalie tugged on the sleeve of his frock coat. “I’m not sure you’re understanding what is truly interesting about this story. My tante Louise is not white. Neither was Mignon. They were both placées.”



* * * * *


Gabriel slammed the front door, the tremor pitching a ceramic vase from the mantel to the floor, which landed on the carpet next to the framed portrait of his grandmother that had slid down the wall.

Rosette, her back to him, screamed for Joseph. Gabriel heard the hard scraping of wood against wood as Joseph pushed away from the table. His mother spun around, her hands cupped over her mouth. Shifting his eyes to the dining room, Gabriel saw a flash of relief on Joseph’s face as he realized who had walked into the house.

“Tell me. Tell me what you know about Lottie’s mother.” The words came out in huffs of breath. He had run the entire way home. He hadn’t bothered to rent a hansom cab. He could outrun one, and he did.

“What happened?” She looked him over as if expecting to find an open wound. “You need to calm yourself. Sit.” She patted the chair’s back and called to Joseph to bring Gabriel something to drink.

“I don’t want to sit. I don’t want to drink.” He pulled off his frock coat and tossed it onto the sofa. Sweat still trickled down his back despite the cool night air. “I want the truth, and I know you have it. I can see it in your eyes.”

Joseph handed him a glass, but Gabriel shook his head. “No, thank you. Not yet.” His mother had shown no confusion and no denial.

“Not now, Gabriel. Please, not now.” Her voice was so low that he had to step closer to hear her. She was on the verge of crying. He heard it in her voice and saw it in her eyes, but he didn’t care. She could tell him through the tears.

“It has to be now. I didn’t run here for you to tell me later.” Gabriel raised his voice with each word. Joseph moved a step in. She moved two steps back. Chess. They were playing a human game of chess.

“You don’t understand. I can’t.”

He hung his head. His hands were still clenched. He felt that if he opened them, his blood would stream out through his fingers and puddle at his feet. Nothing in his brain made sense. Then came the slow drag of a chair again and a voice.

“Because of me. Because I’m here.”

Serafina stood near Joseph, biting her lower lip, her head moving from Gabriel to his mother.

Another pawn.



* * * * *


Gabriel sat, finally, wiped his face and neck with his ascot, and pushed the wet fringes of his hair off his forehead. He finished the orange water Joseph had prepared. Serafina, Joseph, Gabriel, even Alcee, who had dashed into the dining room, she told them later, because she thought a tree had fallen on the house—Rosette told them all.