Rett’s brow wrinkled as his eyes opened wider. “So he’s known all along that both you and Kyle were Isaiah’s children.”
“He has.”
Rett looked again at his watch. “We should go home and clean up. The news crew will be at our house in two hours.”
I turned to the clock on the wall, the one that had been moving painstakingly slow. It was nearly nine and we were still the only two in the shop. “I don’t know who owns this shop.”
“Your mother.”
“She does?”
“Since before I took over New Orleans, she’d become more of a myth than reality. Come to find out, she’s been a vital part of the city.” He smiled. “From what little she shared, she has a knack for understanding business. It seems that she’s behind a slew of well-known establishments.”
It was her dream.
My tears were back. “Is that true?”
“I’m having some of my people try to verify what she told me, but I’ve already learned that Betsy North began her entrepreneurial journey by utilizing shell companies. Leon had told me that she had a way of learning people’s secrets. Apparently, at first, she used capital to invest in struggling businesses. Some of those businesses she rescued and retained part ownership. Others, she took over.”
“She did it,” I said.
Rett took my hand. “Let’s go home, Mrs. Ramses. Your public awaits.”
“Leon left. How are we getting home?”
“There’s a car waiting.”
As we left the shop, Rett entered a code into the security system. After a few beeps, the door locked.
“Jezebel?” I asked.
My husband nodded and opened the door to the back seat of another black SUV. I wondered how many he had in the underground garage. It wasn’t until we had made it to that garage and climbed the concrete steps, hand in hand, that I realized the magnitude of a word: home.
As the door opened to the back entry and I stepped onto the marble floors, I heard them. Instead of heading straight upstairs, I dropped Rett’s hand and made my way to the front sitting room, the one with the large fireplace.
He was a step behind me, stopping when I stopped.
I couldn’t testify under oath that the images in my mind were real. Perhaps I was delusional or dreaming or maybe I’d been manipulated, not by Rett but by Jezebel. Either way, as tears filled my eyes, I longed to touch them, to hug them.
I nodded. “I promise,” I whispered.
There was more that I wanted to tell them. I wanted to say that I would keep the promise Miss Guidry had asked for on the night of our wedding.
I would do what I could to keep their son and grandson safe.
As Miss Marilyn smiled at me from her portrait over the fireplace and Miss Delphine smiled from her smaller picture in a frame on top of the mantel, I felt their relief, their gratitude, and their love.
“Talk to me,” Rett said as his arms circled my waist and he tugged my back to his chest. His chin landed on top of my head. “What’s happening behind those beautiful eyes?”
My body quaked as tears washed away the smiling faces, no longer contained to the portrait or the frame but of the two women standing before the fireplace, holding hands, and smiling at us.
Rett spun me around. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’re home and safe.”
Spinning toward him, my arms went around his neck as I stared into the black holes of his gaze. Similar to the real place in space, I was drawn to him in a way I couldn’t fight, not even if I wanted to. I wiped my tears on my sleeve and smiled. “I want to tell you something.”
“Before the statement?”
“Yes. I don’t want another minute to pass without you knowing.”