[Scayde]

Dolores made her way down the darkened boulevard through the Garden District. She held her head erect as she passed windows that closed at her passing. She let her mind drift and wondered what went on behind the worn shutters. She could sense the warmth of the lovers’ embraces, the wonder of their closeness, a gift she had never known. Her footsteps were soundless as she turned onto Bienville Avenue and made her way up the street to L'Hôtel de Saint Louis. The regal facade of the old building greeted her and she allowed the warm glow of the crystal chandeliers in the fourier to draw her inside.

She made her way to their rooms. A lace-gloved hand retrieved the key from her purse and slid it into the lock, opening the door to the suit. She was met with a warm embrace by her father.

It was good to be home.

“Did you deliver the note ma fille?”

‘Oui Papa. le Monsieur has the note. I delivered it as you instructed.