He thanked the man and slapped the reins gently on the back of the horse as the buggy began to slowly roll down the street. They were within blocks of the docks and often Marian passed them on her way to the office.
As they traveled down the road, the horse’s hooves clop-clopped against the stones in the road.
“Tell me exactly what you’re going to show me today,” Marian questioned, noticing the way the wind tousled his short brown hair.
“Well, I thought first I would introduce you to the crew of the Natchez and the ship’s captain. I thought the captain could explain to you what his crew does. Afterwards, I thought we might have lunch somewhere before returning to the office.”
“All right,” she said. Even though he had agreed to teach her all about the business, she was still wary of his motives.
They turned the corner onto Canal Street and she could see by the merchandise piled on the wharves that the port of New Orleans was extremely busy.
Different colored flags stood beside the piles of merchandise and cargo. Marian stared at the men who bustled around tossing sacks of grain and heaving bundles of cotton onto the ships.
“What are the flags for?” she questioned.
“That’s how the stevedores, the men who load and unload the ships, locate their cargos. Each company has its own flag and that guides the stevedores to where the cargo is either waiting to be loaded or needs to be transferred to the warehouse,” he said pointing out the workers who were carrying large sacks on their heads.
“I know our principal cargo is sugar and cotton, but there has to be more here than just those crops,” said Marian.
Louis leaned closer to her. “The bags that man has on his head are filled with coffee beans. Then there are the banana boats that come in from Latin America and one of our newest customers, The United Fruit Company, is about to vie with Mr. Morgan for the top spot in our company.”
Marian turned and stared at Louis, the question that had troubled her most recently on her lips. “From the looks of the docks, I’d say business is booming. Then, why do you seem eager to sell Cuvier Shipping?”
He pulled on the reins until the buggy came to a halt, and he set the brake. Then he turned to face her. “The industry is going through some changes. Since the war, the docks of New Orleans have been in pitiful shape. The dockage fees are higher than in the larger ports, and we’re no longer a main port for business; plus the steamboat is dying. The twentieth century will be upon us soon and I want to do something different.”
She felt a trickle of fear and for the first time wondered if she were doing the right thing by holding tight to the family business. Yet how could she trust Louis to tell her the truth? Could this be just another tactic to scare her into staying away from the business or, even better, into selling everything to him?
“Well, from all the cargo I see, things don’t look that bad.”
“You’re absolutely right. But you’ve just had your first lesson about shipping. Now let’s go meet Captain Pool and let him give you your second lesson.”
Louis climbed down from the buggy and came around to help her alight. As he went to lift her out of the small vehicle, she felt a sharp tug on the bottom of her skirt as she tripped. For a brief second she was afraid as she felt herself falling. Then Louis caught her and held her tightly as her body slammed full into his arms, her breasts smashing against his chest, her face mere inches from his.
A feeling of safety overcame her as she gazed up into blue eyes that shone brighter than an early morning sky. Feeling his chest beneath her own beating heart was warm and somehow right
“Oh my,” she said, unable to look away, feeling breathless as she stared deep into those fathomless blue eyes.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his deep voice tender.
“Yes,” she managed to say as she lingered for just a moment, the feel of his embrace warm, comforting.
With a start she realized her skirt draped from the buggy to herself, exposing the back of her limbs in an embarrassing exhibit of pantaloons.
She stepped out of his arms and tried to pull down the offensive garment, but the snag was out of her reach leaving her exposed to the men on the docks.
The sound of catcalls resounded and Marian felt her face begin to flame. She had just made her entrance into this manly world in a definitely unique way. One that wouldn’t win her acclaim for her talented business skills, but rather for her more earthy gifts that she’d obviously never known she possessed before.
Realizing her problem, Louis stepped forward, blocking the view of her lace pantaloons from the men on the dock.
“Get back to work,” he barked at them in a voice that brooked no argument.
Then he leaned around her, unhooking the hem that had become snagged.
With her cheeks burning with embarrassment, she brushed the skirt back into place and lifted her chin. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he said, his blue eyes wide, his pupils dancing with a mischievous light, though he was gentlemen enough not to mention the fact that every man on the dock, including himself, could now describe, in colorful detail, her undergarments.
She took a deep breath and slowly released it to gather her wits, while he stood waiting for her.
He held out his arm. “Shall we?”
“Of course,” she replied, still feeling somewhat unnerved by her ghastly exhibition.
They walked to the waiting boat where men loaded bags of coffee beans on a flatboat barge and gawked at the sight of a woman. The dockworkers’ language was coarse and colorful as they shouted to one another, until they realized a lady stood in their midst.
“I thought we had only steamships?” she questioned.
“No our fleet has both steamships and flatboats. The steamers are slowly disappearing and we needed the flatboats for the smaller loads we haul up and down the Mississippi.”
“Oh,” she said feeling like there was so much she didn’t yet know. Jean had never shared any details of the business and she felt so inept. But she would learn everything she could, even down here on the docks. Even at the risk of almost falling on her face or exposing her limbs.
Then she saw the man who had greeted her the very first day she had appeared at the office. “Oh no, that’s Captain Paul. I thought you said we were meeting Captain Pool?”
“Pool, Paul.” Louis frowned. “The names are so similar. I forgot I’m sorry, it slipped my mind about your earlier meeting. If you’d feel more comfortable with someone else, we could do this another day.”
Marian gave Louis a quick glance. Had he really forgotten about their previous meeting or could this be a new tactic to frighten her away?
“Not a problem. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” she said, determined that before she left this boat, Captain Paul would be her friend.
They crossed the gangplank, the sound of their footsteps echoing against the wood.
“Mrs. Cuvier,” Captain Paul called. “Welcome aboard.”
Well, at least he wasn’t calling her darling, she thought as she stepped on board the rocking flatboat
“Thank you,” she said trying to find her balance on the moving deck, the feel of Louis’s strong hand beneath her elbow lending support. If she distrusted him so, why did the touch of his hand feel so comforting?
“So what are you here to learn?” the Captain asked.
“Everything that you think I should know. I want to understand the business from beginning to end,” she replied, her voice growing excited at the prospect. “And I hope that you’ll be your bluntly honest self.”
The Captain grinned. “I always am, Ma’am. This time, though, I’m not suffering from a bloody awful hangover.”
“Good. I’ll remember to ask next time how you’re feeling. You can be quite nasty, Captain.”
He smiled and then began to explain to her the different deck hands and their rank and file onboard, and how each hand was responsible for a certain job on the boat.
Captain Paul strode across the deck and Marian gingerly followed him, Louis at her side, touching her elbow with his fingertips when he thought she needed a steadying hand. Captain Paul described the different parts of the boat, making clear what starboard meant and what a masthead was, how most days the sails were what got them down the mighty Mississippi. He then went on to explain about the different cargos and how the larger ships traveled up the coastline into either Charleston or Boston ports.
After the man had talked for over thirty minutes, Marian glanced at Louis who stood beside her frowning.
For some reason, he didn’t appear pleased.
“Well, Ma’am, I don’t know what else to tell you. I could spend a lot more time givin’ you the tiny details of a voyage on this here boat, but some things are better experienced. Mr. Fournet should take you out for a ride sometime in one of the company boats,” said Captain Paul.
“That’s an excellent idea. I would love to today, but I’ve already taken up so much of your time,” she said.
“Can’t do it today, Ma’am, as we need to shove off here in a few minutes. I see the boys have finished loadin’ and we must be gone.”
Marian smiled at the Captain. “You know we may not have gotten off to a great start, but you’ve been downright gracious to spend all this time with me. I really do appreciate it, Captain Paul.”
“My pleasure, Ma’am.”
“Well, we best be going so that you can get underway.” She started for the gangplank that led back to shore. “Come on, Louis.”
“So long,” the Captain called.
Marian reached the gangplank and walked across it to dry ground. Louis stayed close to her side.
She smiled at him. “This was a great idea, Louis. It’s turned out to be a wonderful day and I’ve learned so much about the business. I even made friends with Captain Paul now!” She paused and noticed he didn’t seem quite as happy. “Thank you.”
“You bet,” he replied, tardy.
She glanced at him and noticed the tightness around his mouth and eyes. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he responded. “We need to get back!”
***
That afternoon Louis sat in his office feeling grumpy, unable to believe the woman had turned an outing planned to be uncomfortable for her into a wonderful day. Even when her skirt had gotten caught on the buggy, she’d somehow managed to make that appear as nothing to get upset about. Didn’t women get the vapors anymore? What happened to the females who were timid and shy and fainted at an unmentionable word?
Marian never had appeared embarrassed or the least bit intimidated. And somehow she’d made friends with the meanest captain in his crew. Louis hated what he was doing and how he was acting, but if he wanted his dream, he had somehow to daunt her interest in the business.
“Mr. Fournet, may I speak with you?”
Louis glanced up from the papers he was reading on his desk, and noticed the man standing in the doorway. It was after five o’clock, and most people had already left for the day. He glanced across the hallway and noticed that Marian was gone.
“Come in,” Louis said. He motioned to the man to sit across from him. “What can I do for you?”
“My name is Richard Vanderhom and I am the leader of the United Dockworkers Association, here in New Orleans.”
Louis felt his body stiffen at the mention of the new union that had recently been formed.
“We’re contacting all of the shipping companies that we do business with to let you know our demands. We don’t want a work stoppage, but most of us haven’t had a raise in years and we work six, sometimes seven, days a week.”
The man held his cap in his hands, twisting it nervously as he sat stiffly in the chair across from Louis.
“The men have asked me to let you and the other owners know that we’d like a ten-cent-an-hour raise, with a week’s paid vacation a year, and paid holidays.” He paused. “We don’t feel like we’re asking for much, but we’re serious. If our demands are not met, then we will walk off the job in thirty days.”
Louis sat back in his chair and stared at the man he felt was trying to intimidate him. He let the man wait, while he stared at him. In the last five years, unions had sprung up all over the city.
“What makes you think I have the money to give every man a raise? Plus a week off and paid holidays?” He leaned back. “You’re talking a hundred workers and thousands of dollars. If your workers haven’t noticed, we aren’t receiving as many shipments as we were before the war. The docks are in bad shape and most people are now shipping directly into Boston and Charleston rather than New Orleans.”
“We have families, sir.”
“I understand and I sympathize. But business is decreasing and until the city decides to restore the wharf we’re losing out to other cities that have better docks.” He paused. “I suggest you go back and tell your men that they should be thankful they have their jobs.” The man drew himself up. “I’ll go back and tell them what you said, but I can tell you they’re not going to be happy. I’m sure this won’t be the end of this.”
“That may be, but my business doesn’t have the money to give to you and the other workers.”
“Cuvier Shipping is the second largest shipping company in New Orleans. I find it hard to believe that you can’t give your workers a ten-cent pay raise,” he said.
“I can’t do it without letting some of them go,” Louis said.
The man shrugged and Louis felt certain he didn’t believe him. They sat there in silence a few more moments and finally the man stood.
“I appreciate your time. Good day, Mr. Fournet.”
“Good day,” he said, and watched him walk out of his office.
A strike. Damn, but that’s all he needed was labor problems to complicate the selling of this company. Worse, if Marian found out, she’d probably give the man exactly what he was asking. Maybe it was a good thing she’d already gone home for the day. This little matter fell into the shadowy area that Louis kept from his partner. Marian need never know about the union leader’s visit.
Maybe the business would be sold before any strike could be called.
Chapter Seven
Louis stared across the table at Marian and watched the candlelight shimmer on her pale skin. From the moment he’d first seen her this evening, he’d found his eyes returning again and again to the woman he’d never really examined before tonight. Certainly he’d noticed her beauty, but this evening she no longer hid behind her matronly image and widow’s weeds. Tonight an elegant gown wrapped around her figure, framing her full hips and trim waist in such a way that he wanted to skim his hands over her shapeliness.
She appeared graceful, almost regal, with her hair dressed high on the top of her head, a few curls soft and tempting around her face. The unexplainable urge to release her midnight tresses and tangle his hands in all that hair, or better yet entwine them together in her silken mass of curls tempted him. Since the first time he met her, she had worn only black dresses, her hair carefully coiffed in a more dowager style than the way she looked tonight. Still, just once, he’d like to see her with her hair down, loose and flowing around her.
Tonight, the widow’s black garb was gone. Dainty white lace curved around her delicate throat crossing over her breasts in a teasing display of cleavage that drew his gaze and every other man’s in the building.
He didn’t know much about women’s fashion, but Marian’s dress flaunted her figure to womanly perfection. And Louis had the job of keeping wayward George Morgan under constant surveillance this evening. Instead of a business dinner, he felt more like a duenna protecting an innocent charge. Though being married to Jean Cuvier certainly couldn’t leave Marian naive, she didn’t appear to be accustomed to the flirtatious games George engaged in.
An old fuss budget, married, yet known for stepping out with single ladies who lived on the fringes of society, George Morgan’s taste in women obviously included
widows. And Marian’s defiant show of backbone had whetted the man’s sexually charged appetite.
George raised his champagne glass in a toast, dragging Louis’s attention from the pearly swells of Marian’s breasts. How do you protect a woman when she is in even greater danger from yourself?
“To Mrs. Cuvier, whose beauty and charm are both a delight and a temptation,” George said, his eyes ogling her bosom. Louis wanted to toss his champagne in the man’s face to cool him off.
Louis promised himself he’d feel that way if it were any woman. Mr. Morgan had a wife and, until death did them part, his eyes had no business straying to Marian’s décolletage or his hands to her slender waist.
Where could Mrs. Morgan be this evening?
“So, George, why didn’t your wife join us tonight?”
Louis asked, doubting that George had extended his wife an invitation.
The man directed his annoyed gaze at Louis, a frown on his weathered face. “She wasn’t feeling well and decided to stay home and rest”
“Pity. I hoped she would join us tonight. Mrs. Cuvier would enjoy meeting the charming woman you’re married to,” Louis said trying to remind the man of his marital status, though vows probably meant little to him.
“Yes, sometime I’ll bring her.” He turned his body toward Marian, shutting Louis out “Tell me Mrs. Cuvier, why did you take over your husband’s position in his company?”
Louis shook his head, determined to protect Marian from this old geezer, who he could tell wanted more than just a business relationship with his partner. He watched as George leaned toward Marian and picked up her hand, giving the appearance of listening intently.
“After Jean died, Louis tried to convince me to sell, but my son is only ten and I wanted to save his father’s business for him. I felt I needed to be involved, to stay in touch with the business until my son is old enough to take over,” she explained.
“Don’t you trust Louis?” he asked.
Marian glanced at Louis and their gazes locked as he wondered what her response would be. How could she trust him? They had been adversaries almost since the moment they met. Their agreement to work together was yet new and fragile.
Wronged (The Cuvier Widows Book 1) Page 10