Miss Guidry’s lips came together. “There are some subjects refined ladies like Miss Marilyn don’t speak about.”
“Jezebel’s profession.” I thought for a moment. “You know, with her name, it was as if she were set up.”
“Well, that wasn’t her name. She changed it.”
“She did?”
“Why, yes. It was back before you were conceived.” Miss Guidry peered at the doorway. “I don’t suppose anyone else will tell you this, but your momma didn’t choose to do what she did. That’s why she did it differently than her momma. She was a real smart business lady.” Miss Guidry nodded. “It was a new time. Women were making names for themselves. Her future was brighter than her momma’s had been. Businesses were booming. New Orleans was on everyone’s radar. That said, this city is old and doesn’t always keep up with the times. I suppose your grandmother’s story is an example of that. Heaven, selling off a daughter during those times...you’d think we were talking 1800s, not the mid-twentieth century.”
“What business did my mother have?”
A smile spread across Miss Guidry’s face. “Her dream was event planning. Now, she never went to school beyond high school, but she was a reader and, Lordy, she is great with figures. Back then, she had visions of what could be done in not only the French Quarter, but beyond. Her biggest obstacle was her name, North.”
“So she chose Jezebel?”
“Yes, ma’am. It was her way of claiming her past and staking her future.”
“What happened?”
Miss Guidry’s smile disappeared. “In those days, nothing happened in New Orleans without the approval of the Ramseses or the Boudreaux. She made the wrong choice. When she went to Mr. Boudreau, he made her an offer.”
My stomach turned at the way she said that. “A business deal?”
Miss Guidry looked around to be certain we were still alone. “You’re wise enough to know what men want. Your momma refused. Well, Mr. Boudreau blackballed her. She’d gotten a small loan from the bank and they called it due. No one would give her the time of day. She went to Mr. Ramses, but he and Mr. Boudreau had an agreement.”
“Rett’s father wouldn’t help her?”
“The two men, they had an understanding. After Mr. Boudreau shunned her, it was beyond Mr. Abraham to help. Your momma did what she could. Her options were limited. Event planning would never work. She knew the hotel owners and big venues wouldn’t work with her. But she didn’t give up.”
“What did she do?”
Miss Guidry sat taller. “Jezebel went into a different business, the oldest profession, selling what was marketable.”
I nodded. “I heard.”
“Now, don’t you be ashamed of a hardworking woman. She didn’t do all the work. Some would call her a madam. She ran a right-nice escort service. She made money and learned how to invest it. Businessmen like to talk.”
“Was that before or after I was born?”
“It started before.”
“And she and Mr. Boudreau became partners in that business?” I asked.
Miss Guidry’s eyes widened. “No.”
“What happened?”
Miss Guidry looked down and wiped her hands on her apron. “Your mother would rather I don’t say any more, specially not after what happened to you.”
What happened to me?
Surely she didn’t mean recently.
Had Rett shared those details with Miss Guidry?
I couldn’t believe he had. Then again, my face was still bruised and my wrists and ankles still bandaged.
She forced a smile. “Just know, Miss Marilyn is—”