As she neared the water, she schooled herself not to be disappointed. She had tried to get word to Ti' Boo that she was leaving New Orleans. She had entrusted a letter to the same captain who had taken her to Cote Boudreaux, and she had telephoned a relative of Ti' Boo's in Napoleonville. She had asked Ti' Boo to meet her here, but she hadn't gotten a response.

Aurore didn't know if Ti' Boo had never gotten word, or if she had been forbidden to come. She was now the mother of a two-month-old infant, a healthy girl she had named Pelichere. Travel from Bayou Lafourche could be difficult, and it wasn't unusual for an Acadian woman to stay forever in the confines of her small village. But Ti' Boo had come to New Orleans once, on an uncle's oyster lugger, and Aurore had prayed she could come once more.

She turned left and headed for Picayune Pier, near the French Market, where she hoped they would meet. Luggers docked here and unloaded fish, oysters and fresh vegetables from the bayous and lakes of the south, and in the daytime a melange of men of all colors and races sailed in and out on boats with square sails.

At twilight the pier was not as enchanting. Every shadow menaced; every stranger was a potential enemy. She hurried until she was close enough to read the names of boats. Canvas tents covered cargo and blocked her view. She knew that men lived on their luggers; some had no other homes. Gazing at the crowded decks, she wondered if she had asked Ti' Boo for the impossible.

She was debating whether to turn back when she saw a small figure unfold aft of one of the canvas tents. "Ro-Ro!"

She covered her mouth with her hands and watched as Ti' Boo maneuvered past the cargo on her uncle's lugger. Then she made a leap that would have done justice to longer legs and landed on the planks beside the water. In a moment they were in each other's arms.

"I can't believe you came!" Aurore hugged her tighter. "How did you manage?"

"I couldn't let you go, not without seeing you."

Aurore buried her face in Ti' Boo's hair. She realized that she had needed a portion of Ti' Boo's courage to move forward with her life.

"Ti' Boo!"

Aurore looked up and saw Jules on the deck of the lugger.

"Over here." Ti' Boo waved. "He wouldn't let me come, not without him," she told Aurore. "He thinks to keep me and Peli safe."

"Is he angry?"

"Angry?" Ti' Boo laughed. "I treat him too good."

Jules joined them. His hair had turned grayer, but he was clearly a man who improved with age. He greeted Aurore, then went to examine the lugger's moorings so that they could talk.

"But where's the baby?" Aurore asked.

"Asleep on the cot beside my nonc. nonc." She inclined her head toward the boat. "She'll be awake soon enough. You can see her then."

Aurore had a thousand questions to ask, questions about marriage, childbirth and motherhood. She hadn't told Ti' Boo why she was leaving New Orleans, afraid to put the reason on paper. Now she couldn't hold it inside any longer. "Ti' Boo, I'm getting married," she said.

If Ti' Boo was surprised, she didn't show it. "Does your father know?"

Aurore shook her head. "He would disapprove. You know the man. It's etienne Terrebonne from Lafourche. He came here to work for my father."

"etienne." Ti' Boo's face was inscrutable. "But why?"

"Because I love him."

"And that matters more than what your father will say?"

"I'll never know what my father says. We're leaving tonight. We'll be married out of state."

"Ro-Ro..." Ti' Boo shook her head. "You can't escape what you are. Neither you or...etienne."

"We can try." Aurore took her arm. "Please, let's walk."

"Jules will follow," Ti' Boo warned.

"Good. Then we'll be safe."

They strolled arm in arm, and Ti' Boo questioned Aurore about her plans. "But to be married without family," Ti' Boo said. "How you must ache."

"I've never had family." Aurore squeezed her arm. "You know that better than anyone."

"And your maman?"

"She doesn't even know me anymore, and Papa forbids me to see her. Even the nuns who watch over her say she seems happiest when she's left to herself."

"Poor Ro-Ro."

"No. Not anymore. Now I have someone who loves me, Ti' Boo." She flung out an arm, as if to encompa.s.s the whole world. "You don't know what it's like after all these years!"

Ti' Boo made a comforting sound.

"I just had to see you once more before we leave. I don't know if we'll ever see each other again," Aurore said. "I know it was hard to come, but it means so much to me. By tomorrow my father will know."

"He'll try to find you."

"I don't think so. He'll cut me out of his life."

"And leave you with nothing."

For a moment, Aurore felt a pang at that thought. Her father had never thought her capable of learning Gulf Coast's affairs. But she had always hoped that someday she would have a place in the company, no matter how modest. There had been women in business in the city. One had inherited a daily newspaper and managed it until her death. There was even some precedent for women working on the river. Several had been noted riverboat captains, and one still worked as a pilot.

She was no less capable. She was as intelligent, as enthusiastic, as any man, and she had hoped to prove that to her father one day. Now, with the Dowager, Dowager, the Le Danois tribute to the future, completed and docked at Gulf Coast's own wharf, it was a difficult dream to abandon. the Le Danois tribute to the future, completed and docked at Gulf Coast's own wharf, it was a difficult dream to abandon.

"I don't need Gulf Coast." She gathered courage from saying it. "etienne and I will build a life together. Maybe someday we'll have our own shipping company."

"How well do you know him?"

"How well did you know Jules?"

"But others knew Jules. My family has known his family always. We are distant cousins. There was nothing about Jules that was unknown."

"And you've known etienne, Ti' Boo. Is there anything about him that would cause you worry?" Aurore expected the obvious answer. When Ti' Boo said nothing, she frowned and stopped. In the distance, she could hear a band, and what sounded like the booming of fireworks or cannonb.a.l.l.s. The parade had begun.

"Ti' Boo?"

"You know how he came to live with Faustin and Zelma Terrebonne. When he was ill, he was identified by a man from Cheniere Caminada." Ti' Boo crossed herself as she said the name.

"I know."

"It's said the man became a hermit after the storm. Il a pas tout. Il a pas tout." She touched her head to indicate that the man was crazy. "There are those who wonder if he told the truth."

"About what, Ti' Boo? What are you trying to say?"

Ti' Boo looked away. "There are those who wonder if etienne...if etienne was a child of mixed blood."

Aurore stared at her.

"My maman told me the story after my wedding. She thought it wasn't for my ears before. Faustin began to suspect after etienne had lived with him for some time. He grew bitter and silent. He began to drink. Zelma wouldn't allow him to send etienne away to an asylum for orphans."

"But why? What reason did he have for such a terrible suspicion?"

"Nothing more than etienne's face."

Aurore closed her eyes and saw the face of her beloved, the face that danced through her dreams. "No." She opened her eyes. "No, if etienne had Negro blood, I would have seen it. I live with Negroes in a way you never have, Ti' Boo. They surround me. I see them on the levee, I see them in my kitchen, my carriage house, my garden. I see light-skinned and dark-skinned, and some so white they could pa.s.s if they weren't carefully watched."

"And some who have pa.s.sed, Ro-Ro." Ti' Boo looked away. "It's a terrible thing when a man must pretend he is something he's not. It could be more terrible for a woman who loved him. Especially if there were children."

Aurore had planned to tell Ti' Boo about the baby she carried. Now she couldn't find the courage. "You're wrong. I would have known. My father would have known!"

"Do you think it's so easy to tell? We're taught to see only what we expect. If we notice the unexpected, explanations, even the poorest ones, satisfy us. The people of the cheniere cheniere came from many different places. Perhaps the lines weren't as strictly drawn there. Perhaps etienne is the child of such a merger. You must consider this." came from many different places. Perhaps the lines weren't as strictly drawn there. Perhaps etienne is the child of such a merger. You must consider this."

Aurore drew away from her friend. "No. I refuse."

"What do you refuse? To consider? Or to care? Because each is different, n'est-ce pas? n'est-ce pas? For one, you pretend there is no question. For the other, you admit to the question and disregard the answer." For one, you pretend there is no question. For the other, you admit to the question and disregard the answer."

"I thought you were my friend."

"I think, perhaps, I'm the only real friend you have."

Aurore couldn't answer. Misery welled up inside her. She was angry at Ti' Boo, but along with anger had come suspicion. She tried to thrust it away, but it remained. She could feel the coa.r.s.e texture of etienne's hair, see the spread of his cheekbones, the width of his nose, the hue of his skin. The things she had loved most about his face were now evidence against him.

"We never have to speak of this again," Ti' Boo said softly. "If you can say you don't care, then I won't care for you."

"Ti' Boo!" There was a burst of French behind them. Jules gestured and pointed downriver. He spoke so quickly and in such a heavy patois that at first Aurore couldn't follow his words. Then she saw the glow in the sky. At almost the same moment, she heard the blast of horns and bells along the river.

"Fire." She understood, and wished she hadn't. Fire was a dreaded event. The port had Samson, Samson, a tug fireboat, always on guard. But once a fire began, it was difficult to end it without substantial loss of property. Large ships lay on the river bottom, the victim of flames less impressive than these. a tug fireboat, always on guard. But once a fire began, it was difficult to end it without substantial loss of property. Large ships lay on the river bottom, the victim of flames less impressive than these.

She struggled to gauge where the flames might have originated. Denial made her calculate and recalculate, but when she was finished, she knew the fire was near Gulf Coast's wharf.

She began to run. She heard Jules and Ti' Boo calling her; then she heard their footsteps following. The Gulf Coast wharf was far away, but the air already seemed tainted with smoke. She ran faster. She forgot about etienne and Ti' Boo's suspicions. She could think only of Gulf Coast and her father.

Lucien allowed Fantome to place his coat over his shoulders; then he waved the old man away so that he could examine himself in the mirror. "Get the carriage."

Fantome left as silently as he had come. Lucien continued to stare at his own reflection. He was still imposing in formal clothes, and now that the weather was better, his health had improved. Or maybe it was the impending launch of the Dowager. Dowager. She sat at Gulf Coast's own wharf, a testimonial to everything Lucien had achieved. Tonight he could almost believe the doctors were wrong. She sat at Gulf Coast's own wharf, a testimonial to everything Lucien had achieved. Tonight he could almost believe the doctors were wrong.

He remained careful of his health. He had refused to ride on a Proteus float, and he had intended to find an excuse not to attend the buffet supper at the Opera House or the ball afterward. But at the last minute he had changed his mind. He wanted to scrutinize Aurore's dancing partners.

There was a certain aura about a woman in love, a look, an essence; he believed that Aurore had succ.u.mbed at last. After careful a.n.a.lysis, he'd decided the young man was Baptiste Armstrong, the son of a cotton broker whose New Orleans roots went back the requisite number of generations. Lucien wouldn't have chosen Baptiste, who lived off his father's largess and made only occasional forays into the business world. But, with his impeccable background, he was acceptable. Lucien intended to speak to Charles Armstrong that night. Between them, he hoped, they could control and shape Baptiste until he was the son-in-law Lucien had always hoped for.

Of course, there was the possibility that Baptiste was not Aurore's ami. ami. Lucien had questioned Aurore and carefully watched her for the past weeks. But she was canny and secretive, and though it irritated him that she hadn't confided her choice, he had developed a grudging admiration for her. He had deduced Baptiste's ident.i.ty from the gossip of Claire's old friends, so there was still the possibility that Aurore might surprise him. Lucien had questioned Aurore and carefully watched her for the past weeks. But she was canny and secretive, and though it irritated him that she hadn't confided her choice, he had developed a grudging admiration for her. He had deduced Baptiste's ident.i.ty from the gossip of Claire's old friends, so there was still the possibility that Aurore might surprise him.

He found himself looking forward to the evening.

"Monsieur Le Danois?"

He turned and frowned. He hadn't expected to see Fantome again until he stepped into the carriage.

"Monsieur Terrebonne is here. He says he must see you."

Lucien pulled out his watch and squinted at the time. The buffet was due to be served soon. "Show him in, and hurry."

etienne entered the room, carrying his hat. Lucien nodded curtly. His watch remained in his hand.

"My apologies," etienne said. "But you know I wouldn't have come if it weren't an emergency."

Unaccountably, Lucien grew more annoyed. He searched for the source of his feelings, and realized it was that etienne didn't seem sorry at all. "What is it?"

"Something I think you must see."

"I don't have time. I'm due at the Opera House."

"Sir, I truly think this must take precedence."

Lucien saw a young man in his best years, a strong, handsome man with eyes that brimmed with emotion. Something besides annoyance stabbed at him. He felt the first flutter of unease, and with it the speeding of his heart. "Just tell me what's wrong."

"I have to show you. We'll have to go to the office."

Lucien knew instinctively that etienne would not be budged. He felt some of the same admiration that in the past weeks he had felt for Aurore. He thrust his watch back into his pocket. "Very well. But you presume too much, Terrebonne."

"I think you'll see the reason," etienne said.

Lucien measured etienne's deference, and didn't like his calculations. But he was powerless. If he went to the Opera House, he would wonder all night what disaster might be brewing. "Fantome will take us."

"Yes, sir." etienne politely stepped aside and waited for Lucien to precede him. Lucien walked out into the hallway. He was strangely aware that his back was to etienne. His heart began to speed faster, and even though he told himself that he had nothing to fear, his hands began to sweat.

The Gulf Coast Building was silent, musty and dark. The sudden glare of artificial light did little to warm it. etienne paid no attention to his surroundings or to his own speeding pulse as he closed and locked the front door behind them. Lucien had sent Fantome to the Opera House to give his regrets. They were truly alone.

"Suppose you show me whatever's so important that I'm missing my supper because of it," Lucien said.

"Everything is upstairs." etienne stepped aside, and Lucien climbed the steps, stopping near the middle to rest. In his months at Gulf Coast, etienne had watched Lucien's health deteriorate. Lucien thought he had hidden his lack of breath, the sweat that sometimes dotted his brow even in the coldest weather, the blue tinge of his complexion. But etienne had seen illness claim him, and he had silently rejoiced. He wanted a slow, agonizing death for the man who had killed his family.

At the office door, a panting Lucien stepped aside to let etienne turn on this light, too. Then he moved inside and took the chair closest to the doorway. His own office, one door away, was obviously too far. "Whatever it is, you can show me while I sit here."