The Canadian Civil War: Volume 4 - Mississippi Beast

by William Wresch

Chapter 18 –

  Lunch with the opposition

  The next morning we had a bit of a planning meeting around the kitchen table. I have no idea what time Gabrielle and Jean had gotten up, but it looked like they had been ready for us for hours despite us telling them we would eat around eight. Oh well. Elise and I picked our way through piles of cubed fruits and warm croissants, and tried to get a handle on the next several days.

  It was actually Gustav who set the first meeting in motion. He joined us at the table (and eventually Gabrielle and Jean did as well) and announced there was a couple we should avoid.

  “I got a report on all the requested visits, and all of them look fine except for the Jouberts. They are both active in the Huguenot Business League, and while we cannot confirm anything, we think they may be financially supporting the LNA.”

  “I think we should have lunch with them,” was Elise’ response. Leave it to her to jig when others jag. “We aren’t going to learn much if we only talk to our friends.” Gustav looked like he wanted to object, but he held his piece. “Jean, would you try to reach them and set up lunch today? And please apologize for the short notice.” Jean started to get up from the table to make the call, when Elise stopped him.

  “Before you make that call, I need your advice on a small gathering. We have this beautiful ballroom on the third floor. Do you think it would be possible to have a dance there tomorrow night? We could get a few musicians, and invite say ten or twelve couples, and have some fun.” While Elise seemed excited about the idea, I have to admit the other four people in the room all looked at her like she had just sprouted a second head. Why was there this sudden interest in dancing? And hadn’t Gustav asked us to keep gatherings small? And how do you set up a dance in about thirty six hours?

  “I appreciate the burden it would put on everyone,” she continued. “But too much pessimism hangs over the city. Let’s show people it is okay to have fun.” And that settled the matter. If Elise wanted a dance, she was going to get one. Jean and Gabrielle asked permission to get help for the event, and Gustav mumbled something about having to make a couple phone calls, but it was clear the wheels were now in motion, and this house would have a dance.

  As the other three left the room to make phone calls, I set down my fork and asked, “A dance?”

  “Back in the day, every great house had its own ball room. Think of this as bringing some history back to life. Also think back to our conversation on the port authority balcony yesterday. Everyone in this community is waiting for an attack. Let’s help change some perspectives. Don’t you think?”

  “Actually, I was thinking how good you will look in a ball gown.”

  “See? The dance is already improving perspectives.” And with that, she left the room, croissant in one hand, phone in the other. I stayed at the table, staring at enough food to feed twenty people. A dance. Well, why not? When was the next time we would be staying in a grand home like this one?

  The rest of the morning all five of us worked the phones. Jean and Gabrielle called an event planner they had used in the past, and periodically reported in on their progress. Food and flowers were not a problem, but musicians might be. Would we accept two violinists who specialized in period dances from 1880 to 1920? They would have to drive up from St. Louis. Elise thought period dances (whatever those might be) would be great fun, so the agreement was made. Now it was up to Jean and Gabrielle to go through the list of Kaskaskia notables who might be free on such short notice, and be willing to dance dances no one knew. Over a hundred thousand people lived in Kaskaskia. Now we would find out if a couple dozen had a sense of humor.

  While everyone else worked on the dance, I called back to Philadelphia and described my visit to Murphy Manufacturing. My siblings had already heard, and were helping find new suppliers. Ryan and Michael, covering defense for the firm, had already polled all the major suppliers we used, and noted where there would be trouble. In their view, the conversations had been fun. In some cases they found good loyalty to the company, and some cases they found people who could be persuaded for a few extra bucks (which identified companies we would drop the instant our situation improved), and in a few cases they found companies that wanted to play games, giving lame excuses. These they enjoyed the most, since it gave Ryan and Michael a chance to tell off a few company execs they had been wanted to tell off for years anyway. Want to play games with us? Not a problem. See you in court. And don’t expect any executive bonus this year for hitting your sales quota. I could envision Ryan having the time of his life as he had these conversations. Michael, meanwhile, would be trying to pick up new suppliers.

  On the offense side, James was looking at all kinds of wild schemes, some of which might send him to jail or at least get him in trouble with the SEC. Catherine was keeping him from getting into too much trouble. She had also found a group of attorneys who had been reviewing contracts we had with various Foster affiliates. They thought they already had some actionable items. Seems Fosters were so certain their Canadian mine would go through, they had not put in very adequate cancellation clauses with subcontractors. If that was true for our contract, it might be true for many others. Fosters, of course, had their own lawyers, but while they could keep these matters in court for years, lawsuits never helped a stock price.

  In sum, the Murphy clan was busy and at least at the moment, was even having a bit of fun with this. I had no idea how much of their story was pure bravado, but it was reassuring to hear. The final question I got from each of my big brothers was – hey, has anyone blown up your house lately? Catherine wanted to know if Elise was doing okay. If there is sympathy in the world, it doesn’t seem to extend to baby brothers. Oh well.

  A little after one the Jouberts arrived for lunch. They seemed well behaved, even friendly, but it was Elise who brought a cold shoulder to lunch. That morning she had been wearing a pale yellow dress, but I noticed now she was in something very dark green. I guess she wanted to more visibly contrast with the outfits of the Jouberts. And they arrived just as she had expected, arriving in all white, the semi-official clothing style of those who wanted to distinguish themselves from the more “mixed” Canadians. I doubt anyone cares what I was wearing, but I had on blue jeans and a pretty cool Hawaiian shirt. I thought I looked great.

  But meanwhile back at the great clothing clash. Elise has ten times the personality I have, so it is normally she who does introductions and handles opening conversations, but this time it seemed to be my job. We had decided we would eat out under the trees out back, so I led the way, chattering as I walked, breaking the ice, so to speak. The Jouberts, Philippe and Marguerite, walked along and said all the right things – my what a lovely yard, thanks for inviting us over, wow, what a handsome man you are. You know, the usual. Elise walked with us, but said not a word.

  We took seats at the wrought iron table, and I poured us each a glass of lemonade. I guess I was host for this luncheon. It had been Elise who wanted them over, wasn’t it? We were into our second glass of lemonade, and I was into my third description of how lovely the marsh was, when Elise finally decided it was time to talk.

  “I understand you are involved in the Huguenot Business League.” She had locked eyes with Marguerite. Okay, so this was going to be woman to woman.

  “Yes, we own a chain of shoe stores in town. We find the business league to be very helpful. They run a series of management seminars, among other things.”

  “And last year they ran a very helpful convention in New Orleans.” I don’t think Philippe understood he was being ignored. Elise never looked in his direction. She was in a stare-down contest with Marguerite.

  “I understand the Canadian Business League also runs management seminars.” Elise stated. I had never heard so much ice in her voice.

  “Yes, I’ve heard that too.” Marguerite had picked up which way the wind was blowing, and she appeared ready to give as w
ell as she got. She let silence build. “At some point though, organizations become networking, and networking leads to friendships, so you pick your organizations carefully. Don’t you think?”

  Now it was Elise’ time to let silence build. “Yes,” she finally said, “I agree you need to select carefully.” Another long pause. “So, may I ask, why did you wish to see us?”

  “We came to thank you for the help you provided President Jolliet.” Well, that stopped the conversation. She and Elise remained locked eye to eye, but I saw Elise twist her head and look confused.

  “Thank you.” I waited for her to say more, as did Joubert, but it appeared Elise had nothing left. After waiting for more, Marguerite seemed to give up, and even started to stand.

  “Please.” Elise finally said. “I am sorry. I am afraid I was expecting a very different purpose to your visit.”

  “Yes,” Marguerite responded. She was still seated at the edge of her chair as if she might rise and leave at any moment. “We seem to be in a time of group expectations, almost all of them negative.”

  “Yes.” Elise nodded, and her face had changed expressions. She looked like Elise again. “May I ask, did you know President Jolliet?”

  “No. We met once at a conference and shook hands, a Huguenot Business League convention in Baton Rouge some years ago. But, no, we did not know him. But we respected him.”

  “Thank you for that. He is my godfather. I have grown up knowing him as Uncle Claude. He is a very good man. Was he a speaker at your conference?”

  “He spoke for about twenty minutes near the end of the meeting, and then stood for nearly three hours shaking hands and letting people take pictures with him. He was very generous with him time.”

  “Thank you.” Elise reached over and took Marguerite’s hand. “I am afraid he was very badly hurt.” And suddenly she was crying and the two women were hugging, and Philippe and I sat uncomfortably. What do you say, “so Philippe, how are shoe sales this month?” We just sat as men do and waited.

  Eventually they stopped crying and hugging and began your standard “let’s be friends” conversation, with Elise asking about Marguerite’s family (they have three kids), and Marguerite telling her all about the city (it has its rough edges but there are good family neighborhoods on both the Illinois and Missouri sides of town). Somewhere in there Jean brought out sandwiches and more lemonade. An hour later we were walking them to their car, thanking them for their visit and for their concern. I think Philippe got in about six words in that last hour; I may have spoken three.

  Back at the house, Elise announced “I liked them” and went off with her phone to call the ministry and do whatever they needed her to do. I went back out to the picnic area and grabbed another sandwich off the plate. It occurred to me I might never fully understand Elise.