Heart of Glass (27 page)

“You look a sight better than the last time I saw you,” she told him.

“Thank you. That’s because my wife has been taking good care of me.”

Tillie hid her surprise well. She tossed her head, which set the ostrich feather bobbing atop her frilly hat.

“Your wife?”

“Yes.”

Tillie shrugged. “Most men don’t let that spoil the fun when they’re in town.”

Colin took in her long, black, velvet gown that was threadbare at the elbows and had unraveled white lace cuffs. Her shoes were scuffed, the leather cracked across the toes. Even though her eyes were rimmed with kohl and her cheeks rouged, a layer of face paint couldn’t hide the lines around her eyes and mouth. A man with a woman like Kate at home would have to be insane to turn to Tillie.

“I’ll help you across the street.” She tugged his arm. Together they started across St. Louis Street.

“Where are you staying?” Tillie wanted to know. “I’d be happy to take you back to my place. You can stay as long as you like, and I’ll only charge you for an hour.”

He knew there were high-class brothels on Basin Street — three-story mansions decorated better than some of New Orleans’ finest homes. Mahogany floors and walnut woodwork, the finest
carpets from the Orient, and sterling and china all added to the ambiance. But Tillie had been a camp follower in Texas, trailing after army regiments, sometimes miles into Mexico. She’d never seen the inside of a truly fine gentleman’s establishment, nor would she ever.

As soon as they were across the street, he extricated his arm.

“I’m going to have to turn down your generous offer, Tillie.”

Her smile quickly disappeared. “You think you’re too good for me?”

“I’m very partial to my wife.” He was more than partial. He was in love.

“That’ll change. Mark my words.”

Colin hoped not.

“You take care of yourself, Tillie.”

They were on the corner in front of Tujague’s when Ezekiel Stevens came walking out of the restaurant with a tall, expensive-looking blonde on his arm and a Cuban cigar in his mouth. The minute he recognized Colin, the captain’s smile grew even wider. He looked Tillie up and down before he had the nerve to laugh out loud.

“Imagine seeing you here, Delany.” He looked pointedly at Tillie again. “Where’s the lovely Mrs. Delany this evening?”

Hitting the captain in the mouth might be worth a night in jail, especially if it erased the man’s smug smile. For Kate’s sake he refrained.

“Kate is at home. I’m here on business.”

Stevens looked at Tillie again. “I see.”

“I’m afraid you don’t,” Colin said. “Miss Cutter and I met on the train from Texas a few months ago. She was inquiring after my health. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Something tells me she’s very attentive to your health.” Stevens drew on the cigar and blew a blue smoke ring. “From what I’ve heard it would be more lucrative for you to stay home and cater to Mrs. Delany.”

Colin took a step toward Stevens and the echo of his injury sent a spear of heat up his leg. Forced to back down, Colin turned to Stevens’ companion.

“I haven’t had the pleasure, ma’am,” Colin introduced himself.

Stevens smiled around his cigar. “I doubt you would ever be able to afford the pleasure of Miss Alicia Rhodes’ company, Delany. Not unless your wife extends you a loan.”

“You’re insulting me, Captain. Why is that?”

“I heard about how you fell on hard times and your lovely wife came to your rescue. Quite a love story.”

“Rumors of my insanity were greatly exaggerated too.” Colin turned to Tillie. “Thank you for your concern, Miss Cutter. No need for you to tarry any longer.”

Tillie bestowed a smile on the captain.

“I hope we meet again, Captain.” She ignored Colin as she walked away.

“Speaking of the lovely Katherine,” Stevens said, “how are my plans coming along?”

Colin unclenched his jaw. After last night there was no reason to be jealous. He refused to let his pride stand in the way of Kate’s career.

“I delivered the plans to Roger Jamison this afternoon. He said he’ll look them over and meet with you to discuss the project.”

The captain’s smile flared again.

“That’s the best news I’ve had in a long while,” he said. “You tell Kate I’m looking forward to seeing her again soon.”

It was all Colin could do to hold his temper in check. Captain Stevens turned to the woman on his arm. “Ready, my dear?”

“Always ready as rain and you know it.” The comely young woman looked no older than twenty.

Stevens winked at Colin as the two of them said good-night and walked away.

His run-in with Stevens soured Colin’s appetite even more than having had to deal with Tillie again. He looked through the door
of Tujague’s, thought about what a meal there would cost, and decided to head to Café Du Monde in the French Market. Coffee and pastry would be enough for tonight.

T
his is a perfect day for treasure hunting, isn’t it, Aunt Kate?” Damian trailed alongside Kate and Marie as they crossed the far end of the front lawn between the oak
allee
.

“It surely is.” Toting the shovel Simon loaned them, Kate agreed. The clear sky was a fine backdrop to the warm fall day.

“Where do we go next?” Damian moved closer to his sister, trying to grab the map she was carrying. “Let me hold it.”

Marie held the page out of reach. “You might tear it.”

“Let’s stop, shall we? We’ll all study it together,” Kate suggested.

Yesterday after Colin left, the three of them had worked on the map together. Kate thought it a fitting activity for stepping off yards and inches, drawing the layout of the front lawn and garden, and adding the lane lined with oaks and the border of River Road.

Marie had used her watercolors to decorate the map once the details were drawn. Damian was using the map to learn how to read the words for tree, lane, oak, rock, road, and other landmarks. Kate was happy with their progress and at the same time concerned that sooner rather than later they would need to hire a real teacher.

The three of them bent over the map for a moment and decided to count the paces to the central oak in the lane.

“Mama was certain
Grandmere
Delany’s treasures are buried here somewhere.” Marie scanned the yard before she rolled up the map, put her head down, and started counting off paces.

“She told us lots of stories at bedtime. My favorites were about the buried treasure. Why did
Grandmere
Delany bury it anyway? What was it?” Damian questioned.

“The Yankee soldiers came during the war and took things that didn’t belong to them. They saw the planters around here as their enemies,” Kate said. There was no simpler explanation for spoils of war or the sadness that still pervaded the South. “As for what your
grandmother buried, I have no idea. In fact, I’m not convinced she actually buried anything.”

“But Mama said she always talked about it. Too bad Mama never found out if it was true. She could have told us where to dig,” Marie added.

“The Yankees believed the planters and landowners buried silver and gold and other valuables, but I have a feeling those are mostly tall tales,” Kate said.

“But
Grandmere
Delany really did.” Damian was not going to be swayed. “We just gotta find it and we’ll all be rich.”

They finally stopped at the central oak.

“One hundred and sixty-three steps.” Marie walked around the tree trunk trailing her fingers over the rough bark as Damian set down his sword and reached for the shovel.

“Be careful,” Kate said as she handed it over.

Damian took a deep breath and buried the tip of the shovel in the soil. When it failed to break the dirt, he jumped on it. His weight didn’t budge the shovel. Marie sighed.

“You should let me dig. I’m sure
Grandmere
would have buried it deeper than a few inches,” she said.

“I think he’s doing just fine.” Kate was glad Damian wasn’t stronger or Simon would be filling much deeper holes.

Marie sat down on grass warmed by the sun and spread her skirt out around her. Kate joined her, content to let Damian work his way around the base of the oak.

“Are you happy you married Uncle Colin?” Marie asked, smoothing her skirt over her knees. “Or are you sorry we made you keep your promise?”

Kate’s cheeks grew warm but not from the sun. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sunlight.

“I’m very happy.”

“He’s nicer than I first thought,” Marie said.

“He has changed a lot since you two arrived.”

“How?”

How much should she tell the girl? “He was in a lot of pain, not only from his ankle wound, but from what had happened during the war. He’d moved himself into the
garçonnière
and didn’t want to let anyone in.”

“Not even you?”

“Especially not me.” Kate smiled remembering. “I came here to help him repair the house, then found out he was the one in need of repair. He didn’t see it that way. I refused to leave.”

“Did that make him mad?”

“Oh yes,” she nodded. “Very.”

“But you stayed.”

“I stayed. I tried to help. But it wasn’t until you two and your mama arrived that he had to put aside his sadness.”

“How did he do it?”

“By thinking of someone other than himself, something other than his own pain.”

You can hold on to pain as long as you need to
. She was thankful that they were both finally letting go — not forgetting Amelie, never that, but letting go of the pain. She hoped the children were too. She slipped her arm around Marie and the girl laid her head on Kate’s shoulder.

“Do you think Mama’s watching us?” the girl asked.

Kate scanned the sky. “I know she is. I can feel her spirit here.”

“I can too,” Marie said.

Just then Damian raced past trying to hang onto both his sword and the shovel.

“Come on!” he shouted. “Let’s move to the next tree. There’s nothing here.”

“Nothing here but his little piles of dirt,” Marie shook her head. “But at least he’s busy.”

W
hen the hired hack stopped at the office of Tom Gilmore on Camp Street, home of the Hibernia Bank, Colin stepped out carefully and waited for Jason to join him, then paid the driver. Before Colin took a step toward the front door, Jason stopped him.

“Let’s hope our luck holds today.” Jason centered his tall black hat and gave the top a tap.

“Luck?” Luck hadn’t been a staple in Colin’s life lately.

“The drills are dug, the cane ready to plant. We seem to have hired a good crew of field hands. If our luck holds, we’ll get this loan to tide us over.”

“Sometimes all the luck in the world counts for nothing.”

“Then let’s pray God’s on our side.”

Colin nodded, but God hadn’t been on his side in a long time.

“We missed you at dinner last night,” Jason said.

“I didn’t want to burden your friends.” Colin kept the details of his stroll through the French Quarter to himself.

“Derek filled me in on the men who started Hibernia Bank. Twelve wealthy Irishmen.” He gestured toward the building in front of them. “They started right here in these law offices five years ago. When I mentioned your wife was Gilbert Keene’s daughter, even Derek had heard of him. That should bode well for us.”

Colin tugged on the cuffs of his suit and wished he looked
more presentable. Then again, he did look as if he needed a loan. Despite what Jason had said, the last thing Colin wanted to do was capitalize on Kate’s name. Especially since the whole town was convinced he was already living off her charity. He wanted the loan on his own merit.

They walked in, were ushered into a waiting room, and were told that bank president Patrick Irwin was out of town but acting vice president Brandon Hovard would be happy to meet with them.

For
Belle Fleuve
to survive, Colin would do whatever he had to. He took a deep breath and studied the well-appointed waiting room. The bank seal displayed on the far wall featured a harp, the national symbol of Ireland.

“Wonder who Hibernia is.” Jason, obviously in awe, spoke so softly Colin barely heard him.

“Hibernia was the Roman name for Ireland.”

Just then the connecting door opened, and when Hovard walked in, Colin and Jason stood. Looking dapper in a double-breasted waistcoat beneath a dark brown jacket, knotted tie, and high collar, the man was far younger than Colin expected, but he had a welcoming smile and a way about him that put Colin at ease almost immediately.

“I’m sorry Mr. Irwin is out of town. If you’d prefer to wait until—”

“Not at all,” Colin said. “We’re happy to meet with you in his stead.”

“Then please join me in the office, gentlemen.” Hovard ushered them into the next room and waited until they were both seated before he sat down behind an expansive cherry desk.

“Since I’m originally from Baton Rouge, I took the liberty of finding out about you both.”

Had Hovard heard the talk of Kate footing all the bills? Were they all wondering why the loan?

Hovard started with Jason. “Mr. Bolton, your father was the manager at
Belle Fleuve
. Is that right?”

“Correct, sir.”

“And do you feel you’ve acquired his skill?”

“I hope so, sir.”

Jason opened up, chatting easily with Hovard about his upbringing, his years in the Confederate army, and his recent marriage and move back to the plantation.

Hovard made a few notes before he turned to Colin.

“Your father was not only a plantation owner but also an architect, right?”

“Mostly an architect. When he married my mother, the former Marie Baudier, he became a gentleman planter. Bolton’s father was responsible for the success of the cane production.”

“Then you and Mr. Bolton should make successful partners as well.”

“We hope so,” Colin said.

“You recently lost a sister.” Hovard stopped reading his notes and looked up.

“Yes. Amelie. She left her children in my care.”

“Your wife is the former Katherine Keene.”

Colin nodded. Waited.