Tears stung the backs of Rick’s eyes. He put his arm around Fontenot’s shoulders and huddled with him to keep prying eyes away. When Fontenot stopped weeping, he dried his face with a handkerchief. “I’m sorry if my emotional outburst embarrassed you. I’m afraid I made quite a scene.” He blew his nose and tucked the handkerchief away in his coat pocket.
“You didn’t embarrass me, sir. My father was Deputy Chief of the NYPD. After my mother died, he was at work one day and broke down. Every officer on his floor laid hands on him until the moment of grief passed. If New York’s finest can weep openly, there’s not a damn thing wrong with a man crying because he has hope for the first time in ten years.”
Fontenot withdrew a silver hip flask from his coat pocket. “I carry this for those times when a gout attack is so painful I can’t walk home. A sip or two gets me there. For once, I’m taking a nip to celebrate.” He handed the flask to Rick. “It’s a Glenturret. The best Highland single malt scotch whisky you can buy. Marguerite’s partner smuggles it in for me. Rhona’s uncle introduced me to the label during a visit to Scotland,” Fontenot glanced away, sighing, “in another time.”
Rick wanted to ask him about the visit, and if that was when his wife received the topaz brooch, but the question could wait for later. Rick took a swig. It was a minimal tongue burn whisky with a noticeable fruity finish. Braham would pair it with one of his lower-priced cigars. But for the moment it was just what Rick needed. He returned the flask. “Slainte.”
Fontenot raised the flask. “Slainte.” Then he took a long drink.
“Careful, there,” Rick said. “You still need to get home.”
Fontenot laughed. “I’ll get to my wife to share the news, even if I have to crawl there.”
Rick clapped him on the back. “You won’t have to crawl today.”
They stopped at the corner across the street from the Place d’Armes. Fontenot took another nip and handed the flask to Rick. “Not long after Rhona and I arrived and realized we were stuck here, we pledged to make the best of our situation and do what we could to improve the lives of New Orleanians. We’ve made a difference in the lives of some, but have come up short with addressing the plight of minorities on a larger scale.”
Rick took another swig, then swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “You can’t change the future. One of our clan tried to save Lincoln. Another almost married Thomas Jefferson. If they’d succeeded, they would have drastically altered history and might have averted this war. Just think, if you had convinced Louisiana to join the Union as a free state, how would that have impacted the South years from now? If we change something, the ripple effect could cause unintended consequences.”
“Rick!”
He glanced across the street to find Pete grinning and waving. Rick laughed away a shudder of relief. Pete wouldn’t be smiling if Sophia was MIA. “That’s Pete Parrino. He’s a former Marine and former NYPD detective. He’s a good guy.”
“So, the Marines have landed.” Fontenot took another swig. “You mentioned companions. How many more are there?”
“Two. Pete’s wife Sophia and a former Army medic Remy Benoit.”
Fontenot passed the flask to Rick. “Why would he bring his wife? There’s a war going on.”
“You’ll understand when you meet her.”
“Did Mr. Benoit travel with pain meds?” Fontenot asked. “Rhona’s pain is getting worse, but she won’t take the laudanum the doctor gave her.”
Rick took another swig and returned the flask. “I’m sure he can help.”
Pete reached them and immediately clapped Rick on the back. “Drinking already?” Then he turned his attention to Fontenot, studied his face, and said, “You’re Philippe Fontenot.”
Fontenot extended the flask. “I sure am, Marine. Have a drink. We’re celebrating.”
“I can see that,” Pete took a swig and returned the flask. “I hope this wasn’t full when you started imbibing.”
“Nah. Only had a sip or two.” Rick glanced around. “So…where’s Sophia?”
“She bumped into Marguerite Bonnard, and they have their heads together, catching up, at Marguerite’s dress shop. Do you remember Soph talking about her?” Pete pointed over his shoulder. “It’s across the street on the corner.”
“Mr. Fontenot just mentioned her as a resource to help us find Billie.”
Fontenot tucked the flask back into his pocket. “If anyone knows where your friend Billie is, Marguerite will.”
“I’m sure Sophia will ask. But have you seen Remy?”
Fontenot pressed one hand over the other atop his cane and leaned on it. “Do you mind if we step over to the cathedral and sit a spell? I’m feeling a bit woozy.”
Pete gave Rick a side-eye, and Rick signaled with a nod that he’d explain later.
Fontenot rested on the steps leading into the cathedral. “Mr. Parrino, you mentioned your wife Sophia knows Marguerite. How is that possible?”
“Sophia has traveled several times. The trip before this one didn’t go as well as her others, and her brooch stranded her in Paris at the start of the revolution. That’s where she met Thomas Jefferson and Marguerite.”
Fontenot glanced at Rick, back at Pete, then shook his head. “You’ve successfully gone back and forth between centuries, but our brooch intentionally sent us to the past without the possibility of returning home. I don’t get it.”
Rick propped his foot on the step and leaned forward, his arm across his thigh, his hands clasped. “We haven’t figured that out. But we will. What we need to do now is find Billie as soon as possible.”
“And we don’t have much time,” Pete said.
“Mr. Fontenot believes Billie might be at one of the plantations surrounding the city. We’ll have to go to all of them,” Rick said.
“How long will that take?” Pete asked.
Mr. Fontenot tapped his finger against his chin. “Two or three days. If you split up, you could manage it in a couple of days apiece. One of you could take the left bank, and the other can take the right bank. Most of the plantations are idle right now because of the British naval blockade on the Gulf, and many of the planters are officers in the militia. You might find a few of them here in New Orleans. I can help with that.”
Rick straightened and surveyed the square. “If Remy doesn’t show up soon, we’ll have to go looking for him.”
“I’ve got to check in with Soph first,” Pete said. “Then I can help you search.”
“Okay,” Rick said. “I’ll walk Mr. Fontenot home, so we’ll know where to find him and meet you back here in thirty minutes.”
Pete checked the time on the watch he refused to leave behind. “We need to post a sign or something for Remy, just to let him know we’re here.”
“Like what?” Rick said. “I don’t see any message boards.”
“I don’t know,” Pete mused, staring at his muddy boots, and then he chuckled. “May I borrow your cane, sir?” Pete took Fontenot’s cane and walked over to the fence, where he wrote HOOAH in the mud with an arrow pointing toward Marguerite’s dress shop.
“Why’d you write ‘hooah?’ You’re not Army,” Rick said.
“But Remy is. Since he’s the only one, he’ll know we meant the message for him.”
Rick scowled. “Seriously? That’s the best you’ve got?”
Pete raised his hand to throw Rick a middle finger but stopped short of flipping it up. They’d known each other since they were teenagers, and being crass was part of their repertoire, but probably not part of Philippe’s.
“Smart-ass. Can you think of anything better?” Pete asked.
“Nah,” Rick said. “If it doesn’t rain again, he might see it.”
“If he doesn’t, he’ll go to the general’s headquarters and hang out until we show up.”
“You’re right. Go check on Sophia, and I’ll meet you back here in thirty.”
Just as they split up, Remy came running across the street. “Pete! Ric
k!” He jogged over to them. “Sorry, I’m late. Did ya get tired of waitin’ for me?”
Pete pointed to the message scrawled in the mud.
Remy studied it then glanced in the direction of the pointed arrow. “A dress shop? Is that where you stashed Sophia?”
Pete grinned and did a fist bump explosion with Remy while Rick grabbed Remy by the collar. “Come on. You’re going with us to the Fontenots’ residence. I’ll bring you up to speed.”
Remy looked at the man next to Rick. “You’re Mr. Fontenot?”
“And you’re Remy Benoit. I’ve heard all about you.”
“I doan know what to say about that,” Remy said. “But I’m supposed to protect Sophia. I’m going to the dress shop.”
Mr. Fontenot laid his hand on Remy’s arm. “My wife has cancer, and she needs your help.”
“I’m not a doctor, sir. I only provided care in the field. Medevac did the rest. We’ll get your wife out of here as soon as we can.”
“Go see her, Remy,” Rick said. “You might be able to relieve her pain and give her hope. That’s what she needs right now. Pete will take care of Sophia.”
Remy hitched up his medical pack. “Okay. Let’s go see what I can do.”
“While you do that and Pete goes to get Sophia, I’ll find us a place to stay,” Rick said.
“We have room,” Mr. Fontenot said. “Finding a hotel right now is impossible, and Rhona and I will insist on having you stay with us.”
Rick shot a glance to Pete, then a quick one to Remy, before giving them a thumbs-up. “We can check that off our list. So, how do you want to handle this, Pete? You want to run over and get Sophia while we wait here?”
“She sent a message that a shawl I ordered for Rhona arrived,” Fontenot said. “Why don’t we all go? I’ll pick up the item, and you can collect your wife.”
“Okay,” Rick said. “But remember, Marguerite doesn’t know about the brooches.”
Remy walked beside Mr. Fontenot as they all headed toward the dress shop. “You’re limping. Were you injured?”
“Gout,” Fontenot said.
“I have ibuprofen that might give you some relief until we can get you to a doctor. In the meantime, limiting alcoholic beverages, exercising, and losing weight help prevent recurrent attacks.” Remy said.
“We all get the limiting alcoholic beverage lecture from both Remy and our trainer,” Rick said. “It’s not just you, Mr. Fontenot. And don’t let him catch you holding a cigar. All hell breaks loose then.”
“Please, call me Philippe. And be prepared for a similar reaction from Rhona.”
When they reached the front of the dress shop, Pete said. “Marguerite said to go to the side gate.”
“It’s this way,” Philippe said, pointing with his cane. “Marguerite owns this property and the one next door. She’s done well with her business. She also has a partner who brings in clothes directly from Europe to sell in her shop. They split the profits.”
“I guess the war has slowed down business.”
“Not at all,” Philippe said. “Even with all the British violations of US maritime rights and interference in American trade, her partner gets back and forth unscathed.”
“Mr. Madison’s war could have been prevented,” Remy said.
“The driving force behind this war isn’t President Madison,” Philippe said. “It was Thomas Jefferson, his love of France, and his toleration of Napoleon combined with his hatred of the British.”
“If Sophia had stayed with him, the war probably wouldn’t have happened,” Pete said. “I’m sorry there’s a war, but I’ll be grateful to my dying day that Sophia didn’t stick around to influence him.”
“I seem to recall overhearing the former president mentioned during a conversation about art between Marguerite and Rhona, but I was busy at the time and forgot to ask about it later.”
They reached the side gate, and Pete rang the bell. “Coming,” a woman with a soft French accent called. A moment later, the gate opened wide, and the four men entered the courtyard.
Philippe kissed her cheeks. “Marguerite dear, I’ve brought visitors.”
“I’ve already met Mr. Parrino, but not Sophia’s other two escorts.”
Pete glanced around. “Where is she?”
“Inside. She’ll be right back.”
Marguerite was a few years older than the painting Rick had seen of her, but from Sophia’s stories, he felt as if he already knew her. “I’m Rick O’Grady.” Marguerite extended her hand, and he kissed the back of her fingers.”
Not to be outdone, Remy took Marguerite’s hand. “C’est un plaisir de vous rencontrer, mademoiselle. J’ai entendu des choses merveilleuses sur toi.”
Rick gave Remy a side-eye. “I’m not even going to ask what you said.”
Marguerite laughed then turned her attention to Philippe. “How is Rhona?”
“Not well, and she misses her visits with you.”
“If tomorrow is convenient, I’ll stop by. I have new fabrics to show her.”
“Why don’t you bring the shawl when you come?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to take it with you? It is a gift from you, and I already have it wrapped.”
“No, bring it tomorrow. You’re better at making a fuss over her clothes than I am.”
Rick turned away. There was a look in Philippe’s eyes that reminded Rick of the sorrow he’d seen in Pops’s eyes. He didn’t know how sick Rhona was, but Rick knew firsthand the difficult journey they were facing.
Sophia joined the group, giving both Rick and Remy cheek kisses. “I was worried about you two.”
Remy hugged her. “I’m here to keep you from worrying. Rick, on the other hand…”
“Aw, man, don’t disparage my reputation in front of this lovely lady.” He winked at Marguerite. Then, to Sophia, he said, “I found Philippe Fontenot at General Jackson’s office.”
Sophia gasped. “So quickly. I found Marguerite, and you found the Fontenots. Billie might be the biggest challenge. Marguerite hasn’t seen her or heard anyone mention her name. What about you?” she asked Philippe.
“I told Mr. O’Grady—”
“Rick,” he said.
“I told Rick that if anyone knew her, Marguerite would. Every woman between here and Charleston buys clothes from her. So, Marguerite, if you haven’t seen her, then Rick and Pete will need to visit all the plantations.”
“That will take days,” Marguerite said.
“Philippe said if we split up, we could visit all of them in two days,” Pete said. “We’ll need to look at a map and figure out where to go. And since he has invited us to stay at his home, we can work on that tonight.”
“Marguerite has also offered. She has room in her house for Pete and me, and she also has an apartment over the shop for you and Remy,” Sophia said.
“Maybe Remy could stay with us, then,” Philippe said, “at least for a day or two so he can evaluate Rhona’s condition.”
“Are you a doctor?” Marguerite asked.
“Army medic,” he said.
“That’s a good compromise,” Sophia said. “Having all of us there would cause too much confusion, don’t you think?”
“Of course you’re right,” Philippe said. “I was being selfish. Rhona will find having Remy there comforting without the pressure of attending to the needs of several guests.”
“I’m here to watch over you,” Remy said to Sophia. “I doan want to neglect my responsibilities.”
“I’ll be here with Marguerite,” Sophia said. “And she won’t let me out of her sight.”
There was nothing unusual in Sophia’s tone, but the glint in her eyes and her body language made the hairs on Rick’s neck stand on end. He didn’t go back in time to rescue her—not that she needed rescuing—but from what he heard, she bulldozed her way through the Founding Fathers, almost demanding they sit for her. What was she planning to do in New Orleans? The smartest thing Pete could do would be to handcuff h
er to a chair and hope for the best.
Marguerite put her arm around Sophia’s waist. “I know you have your friend to find, so don’t worry about Sophia. She’ll be safe with me.”
Pete grimaced. “I’m sure she will, but Soph has a stubborn streak and always figures out a way to get what she wants, regardless of what’s best for her.”
“Mr. Parrino—”
“Pete,” he said.
“I know your wife well, and I doubt her impulsive nature has diminished over the years. I assure you, I’ll be as pesky as a fly.”
Yep, Pete sensed Sophia had plans of her own.
“Okay,” Rick said. “Pete and I will go with Remy to the Fontenots’ residence to recon and meet Rhona. We’ll be back in an hour.”
“If you haven’t already, you need to report to the Adjutant-General’s office to identify yourselves. If you’re found on the streets after dark, you’ll be arrested,” Marguerite said.
“I’ll take care of it,” Philippe said. “The adjutant’s office is next to mine. I believe Mr. Butler is traveling with General Jackson this afternoon, but I’ll inform his secretary.”
“Dinner will be served at nine,” Marguerite said. “Remy, please come back and dine with us.”
Pete kissed Sophia. “Stay that sweet butt still, babe.”
Her chin hiked up, and long lashes blinked. “Oorah.”
Rick sucked in his cheeks to keep from laughing, but Pete gave her a hardened glare, then quickly succumbed to her smile. “I’m serious, Soph.”
“I’ll be here when you come back. Tomorrow I want to go out and sketch, but we can talk about it later.”
Pete’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. Rick gave him a light shoulder shove. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Why don’t you leave your duffel bags here, so you don’t have to lug them around the city,” she said. “I’ll watch over them.”
Pete gave her a quick kiss before he and Rick hurried to catch up with Remy and Philippe.
“Do you trust her?” Rick asked.
“At home, yes. Here, hell no, and she knows it. There’s too much here to excite her artistic brain, and she’s determined to paint General Jackson. I might have to sign on as a scout for the general so I can keep my eyes on her. We’ve got to find Billie and get out of here before the action starts. I’ve had enough of war. The one good thing going for me is that Soph knows if she screws up, she’ll never go on another adventure.”
The Topaz Brooch: Time Travel Romance (The Celtic Brooch Book 10) Page 29