Cover Spell (14 page)

As the events unfolded before me, I better understood why Josette had been so anxious to escape the rule of her father. He was hot-tempered, rude, and unreasonable.

A few minutes later, the doorbell buzzed and Meyers crossed the foyer to greet the late night guests.

He nodded at the dark strangers in front of him, and led the men into the parlor room where Josette’s father was sitting with a newly poured cup of tea. Jane placed a tray of assorted sandwiches next to the silver tea service on the coffee table.

“Is there anything else, Monsieur Henri?” she asked.

My ears perked at the sudden calmness in the voice that followed. “No, Jane. This is fine. Merci.”

He smiled at the woman and she retreated. He turned his attention to the sugar cubes dissolving in his cup of tea. One of the men reached for the door, and I sidestepped his arm when he pulled the handles and closed the parlor doors.

“She’s gone! How did you let her escape?” Consul Henri’s rage had returned in full force. “Your job is to keep Josette here! You never let her out of your sight!”

The men’s eyes were locked on their shoes, and they stood while the irate father belted them with verbal assaults.

“How could you let her go? She’s out there. With
him
.”

His face was within inches of the two men, and his eyes burrowed holes in their foreheads. He didn’t back down. Instinctively, my body tightened, and I inched closer to the wall without making a sound. He didn’t know I was there, but I felt safer farther from his reach.

“If anything happens to her, it is your fault. Do you understand? There will be consequences.” He said the last part with a hiss.

The men nodded in unison.

“That boy has been relentless. Chasing her, filling her head with ideas, trying to take her from the consulate, from France, from me. Luke Green is the type of boy who has taken advantage of my daughter’s delicate, fragile nature. It’s quite obvious that he wants her money, her influence, and I don’t want to think about what else.”

All I could think about was how tender and loving Luke was with Josette. I doubt the consul cared about those things. The father’s eyes grew hard and piercing.

“He must be stopped, and she must be returned home. Immediately. Josette is scheduled to leave for France in a few days. Find her! Leave here and find her!” He threw his hand in the air and dismissed the pair.

“Oui, Monsieur.”

The two men exchanged a private look and hurried through the doors. I slipped back into the hall to watch them go.

Meyers held the door open and nodded to each of the men as they stepped into the drizzle. Even in the intense atmosphere of the house, my inner girl giggled. They weren’t going to find Josette tonight. She and Luke were long gone on the Crescent train, on their way to a new life, a happy and love-filled life. I just hoped there would always be enough distance between the couple and her father’s determined pursuit.

“Psst. Psst. Meyers.” Jane was hiding at the end of the hall near the kitchen door. “Meyers.” She waved at the butler to follow her.

His statuesque frame closed the front door, stepped back, and then walked past the parlor toward Jane. Consul Henri looked like he was preoccupied with his cup of tea, and from the scene I witnessed, probably a few deep thoughts about terrorizing his daughter’s lover. He stared into the empty fireplace grate while twirling the side of this mustache with his index finger.

I followed Meyers into the kitchen. “Yes, Jane, what is it?”

“We can’t let those brutes chase Josette. We have to help her, Meyers.” Her voice was hushed and urgent. She wiped her hands across her apron and pretended to straighten the tea set on the counter. “After all, we’re the ones who sent her to Maritime Day last year where she met Luke. I feel responsible.”

Meyers strolled over to the housekeeper. “Never speak of that in here. He’s already in a foul mood. That girl was going to do what she pleased regardless of whether we helped her or not. She would have found a way to the parade without us.”

“Yes, but that parade was full of sailors; of course she was going to meet one. And we didn’t stop there. We helped him sneak in here and we helped her sneak out. If Monsieur Henri finds out, we’ll be on the street.” She was wringing her hands, and the skin on her fingers turned a bright red.

“Shhh, Jane. We won’t speak of this again. Josette is gone. And if he does find out, I’m not worried about being on the street. It will be far worse than that.”

Jane’s eyes welled with tears. “You don’t think she’s coming back, Meyers? Do you know something you’re not telling me?”

The butler lifted a stiff arm toward the weepy woman and placed it on her shoulder. “No, no. Pull yourself together, woman. She’s gone. She’ll be much happier.” He paused. “And safer. Now, take him some more tea and check on him.”

I thought he was going to tell the housekeeper how he had seen Josette sneak out of the kitchen with her packed suitcase, but he prodded Jane along and dished out bits of comfort. It was obvious he had a soft spot for Josette; it almost felt paternal.

Sometimes this was my favorite part of
Time Spelling
. I only caught a slice of life—a few conversations here and there—but it was enough to piece together the dynamics that existed between people.

Jane tugged at the bottom of her apron and dabbed each of her teary eyes. Her tray was reloaded with a fresh pot of tea, lemon, honey, and bowl of sugar cubes. She pulled her shoulders back and marched down the hall to the parlor.

“Monsieur? Can I get anything else for you? You must be so, so worried about Josette.” Jane fussed over the angry consul. Meyers entered the room only a few seconds later.

I stifled a yawn that kept brimming to the surface. I looked at the clock pendulum ticking above the mantle. It was late. It was time to return to present-day New Orleans and the busy bed and breakfast. It wouldn’t be long before Mr. and Mrs. Betts would be bustling around the house, preparing a morning feast for their guests.

While the small group was engrossed in discussion about Josette, I crept up the staircase using the strategic footpath I learned from Josette.

Confident everyone was downstairs, I quietly closed the closet door and focused on the wall. “Unfold.” I smiled at the first glimpse of the glittery curtain waving in front of my fingertips. I clutched my sapphire ring with my left hand, stepped through the veil, and left 1945 behind me.

New Orleans, Present Day

F
INN AND
I walked back to the Hotel François through the misty rain. As if we were on autopilot, we took the elevator to the fifth floor and walked into my room.

I felt slightly defeated that I had let the only potential lead run out of my sight. Finn did his best to cheer me up. After my failed attempt to pursue the man with the bruised cheek, we gave up tracking him on the sidewalk and decided we should refocus our efforts on the
Locality Spell
. It was our best chance of finding Emmy Harper. The police didn’t have any leads, and each hour that passed, the media frenzy grew, along with my increased worry that something bad had happened to the star.

We took turns drying off with the hotel’s fluffy white towels. It took several of my adamant pleas to keep Finn from opening the door while I changed out of my rain-drenched shorts and top. We both knew it wouldn’t take much for him to spell his way into the bathroom, but he waited for me in the room. For once, he behaved as a good ex should.

During the stroll back to the hotel, I told Finn the details from my
Time Spell
to 1945 when I first discovered Josette and Luke.

My encounter with them was what led me to write
Masquerade
. It was the reason we were all in New Orleans right now, including Emmy. Maybe it was fitting Finn was here after all. If we hadn’t broken up, I never would have traveled to New Orleans in the first place. In a weird way, this story was coming full circle.

Two years ago, I was so wrapped up in Josette and Luke’s story that I couldn’t forget them. The night I traveled back to the bed and breakfast after watching the young lovers ride off on the train, I shook off aching fatigue, cracked open my laptop, and searched for any information I could on Luke, Emmy, and Consul Henri. I wanted to make sure Mr. and Mrs. Betts had given me the right information.

If I hadn’t known Josette’s true fate, I wouldn’t have been as delighted as I was when I read online that the French consul’s daughter was reported missing in 1945 and never found. Her father offered tremendous awards, enlisted French and American resources, but she eluded discovery. I almost hugged my pillow. Josette and Luke had escaped the constrictive reins of her father after all. I wondered what happened to them. Did they make it to Acapulco? Did Josette have her seaside garden and Luke his handy workshop? Did they have the perfect white picket fence marriage with three beautiful French- and Spanish-speaking children? In my mind they did. They had all of those things and more. Maybe I could plan a Mexico trip and check in on them some day.

As soon as I finished my quick online research that corroborated the Betts house history, I opened a blank page on my screen and started typing. The words flowed from my fingertips. It felt like magic was at work when the story took form so easily. A flurry of ideas on what might have happened to the lovebirds sprung to life, and I couldn’t stop writing.

Masquerade
was a piece of myself that I hadn’t shared with Finn, and I wanted him to understand that my writing was a deep part of the new Ivy he didn’t really know. I wanted him to understand why I had to write Josette’s and Luke’s story. I needed him to if we had a chance of— I couldn’t even complete the sentence. I was confused about so many things right now.

“Babe, you ok?”

“Yeah, just thinking.” I tried to sound normal.

“Uh-oh.”

“None of this makes sense. Why did that man give himself away? It was like he wanted me to see him a second time. When I saw him this morning in the lobby, I felt something dark, something sinister lingering about him. I could feel it in the lobby and I felt it in the restaurant tonight before I even saw him on the street.”

“What do you mean ‘dark’?” he asked.

“You know. It’s not human. It’s some kind of dark magic.”

“Huh.” Finn seemed preoccupied.

I turned toward him. “Maybe you can piece this all together. Aren’t you the one who is always reminding me that you’re a detective? We’ve got to do the
Locality Spell
.” I realized I was pacing around the room and stopped mid-stride. “I need to get a better look at the mystery man. He has something to do with her. He is connected. I can feel it.”

Finn’s hair had that perfectly tousled look that I loved, still a little wet from the rain, but mostly dry from the towel. He poured two glasses of wine from the minibar, and held out a tumbler glass for me.

“Sorry, no actual wine glasses in your bar. We never got to finish our bottle from dinner. Here.”

I shrugged my shoulders. I gave up on my hair and the quest for answers, and tossed the towel on the bed while reaching for the glass. My fingers grazed the tips of his, and little sparks fired through my hand, starting a familiar charge my body knew well.

The wine was sweet, and I drank it as if it were water. I looked at Finn over the edge of my glass. He had his glass tipped back, but his blue eyes had the same look they did in the rainy courtyard, insanely sexy and mischievous. This wasn’t the first night his come-hither look had undone all of my rational, good-girl thinking.