Ladybird nearly fell as she stepped out of the carriage and ran up the street. She had forgotten her hat pin and now held her hat on her head to keep it from flying away. He skirt billowed in the breeze as she held her wrapped canvases under her arm.

As she ran she quickly read the addresses of the buildings. When she found the address she came to a quick halt out of breath and looked up at the home beyond the gates proudly adorned with a well manicured lawn that called back memories of the mansions in Narrow Lake.

She gave the gate a push and stepped inside. She quickly adjusted her clothes and fluffed her pompadour before walking tall up the walkway. When she reached the back door she knocked and as expected a maid answered.

"Good morning, I'm Ladybird Winters; I'm here about Mrs. Baudin's portrait." She gave a smile but the middle aged colored woman looked her over and regarded her with a grunt before letting her in.

"Wipe your feet I just mopped this floor," she said curtly.

Ladybird wiped her shoes on a mat that the maid looked sore to see collect bits of dirt then followed the maid into the foyer. As she stepped forward she took a look around at the breathtaking foyer. "If I wasn't wiser, I'd be certain I'd meet a queen."

The maid scrunched up her nose and Ladybird wondered if she might have smelt bad. "You wait here and don't go touching anything, you hear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Ladybird said feeling the twist of the knife that had already been stuck in her. As the maid walked away to get the home owners Ladybird turned around to admire the furnishing. Each curve of wood, each polished tile and every pillar seemed to be filled with character. "Beatrice would have loved this."

"May I help you?"

Ladybird turned at the sound of the demanding voice. Her mouth opened as the mustached man glared at her with close set blue eyes but no words came out. "Are you dumb or can you speak?"

"I...I..." Ladybird remembered the paintings under her arm. "I'm here about Mrs. Baudin's portrait," she finally managed. "I was hired to paint it from a photograph she sent me, I have it here." She fumbled in her bag and presented it to the man as he came towards her.

"You were the one I hired to paint my wife's portrait?" His eyes ran over her and he regarded her with an equal amount of disgust that the maid had.

"I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, sir," Ladybird said.

"Well you should be," the man said. "I previously engaged right now and don't need this nonsense."

"I'm sorry," Ladybird said again. "I was under the impression you knew I was coming."

The man faltered but caught himself. "Well clearly the mistake is on your part."

The sound of shoes on the tile echoed up the hall and Ladybird almost gasped when a familiar face appeared. "Mr. St. Cloud, what are the odds?"

Jessop looked between the two of them. "Is there a problem, Mr. Baudin?"

"Only a misunderstanding," Mr. Baudin said. "This gal here says I hired her to paint my wife's portrait." He held up the photograph. "I'm not sure how she came by this but there must have been some mistake."

Jessop glanced at Ladybird.

Ladybird spoke up. "I have the portrait with me—"

"I won't need to see it," Mr. Baudin said. "I'm not interested in your services.

Ladybird swallowed. She back tracked in her mind to find what she had done wrong.

"Me? Hire you?" Mr. Baudin scoffed. "You're in the wrong business, gal. No one is going to hire a colored woman to paint for them; no sane man anyway." His cigar plumes filled the air. "Am I right, St. Cloud?"

Ladybird turned slowly to Jessop. "I will be going," she said quickly so she wouldn't have to hear an answer. "I am sorry I have wasted your time." She turned and left through the kitchen out the back door.

"Everyone has a place, St. Cloud. You've got yours, I've got mine and those colored folks have theirs. Them stepping out of their places destroys the New Orleans cosmos. If you don't believe me take The War for example. The world is chaos when people leave their place."

It took a moment for Jessop to be able to tear his eyes away from the path Ladybird had taken. Presently he faced the smoking man. "If you believed that, Mr. Baudin then you'd have never married up to your lovely wife and by extension would not be standing in a fine home such as this smoking a fine cigar." He went over to the coat rack and took his hat.

"You let them take good jobs from white folks and the next thing you know they'll want the vote like these women."

Jessop pulled open the door. "I don't think the situation is that desperate, Mr. Baudin, the girl just wants to paint."

Mr. Baudin took a long drag on his cigar then exhaled. "Is that the type that suits your fancy?" he asked. "Is that why you're still a bachelor, St. Cloud?"

Jessop thought that in way he could say yes that was the reason. It was on account that he had taken her mother's case on that he had been injured and that his fiancée had left him on account of those injuries but that would cause more trouble than what it was worth. "My career is my marriage," he said and was surprised to see Mr. Baudin smile.

"And good at it you are," he said. "I'm looking forward to working with you."

Jessop nodded and stepped out the door. He didn't share the same feelings. Outside the gate he stopped on the sidewalk to light a cigarette. Shaking out the match he tossed it and put the cigarette between his lips. When something moved out of the corner of his eye he turned his head. "Miss Winters," he said with a swallow to hide the fact that he had been startled.

Ladybird dabbed her tears away with her fingers. "I'm sorry. I know I'm feeling sorry for myself."

Jessop hated seeing crestfallen women. He didn't know how to handle them. "Well it certainly won't do you well to stand there."

"I was going back to your office but I don't really know the way," Ladybird said. "Aunt Grace was right; it is a terror to be lost in a city."

Jessop sighed. "Well I'm heading back that way myself," he said. "I'll show you but you'll have to learn to remember. And you'll need to walk a few paces behind me."

Ladybird waited for him to get a little ways up the sidewalk then followed him with her head down. "I thank you kindly, sir," she said when no one was coming. "Are you certain you don't mind walking?" She switched her parcel under her other arm.

"If I minded I wouldn't have volunteered to take you back," Jessop said glancing over his shoulder. He caught her smiling and felt superhuman that he was able to make her do so.

/

The family was about the house before supper when a gentle knock at the front door made all of them look to it and Mr. Fairchild sent Heloise to answer.

"Glad tidings to you!" a pleasant familiar voice greeted them. Heloise stepped aside as the preacher and his wife stepped in with the speckles of a coming rain on their shoulders. "Evening everyone," Preacher greeted. "Mary-Ellen and I wanted to keep our word. Looks like you'll be the last stop today with the rain." he set the trunk down on the floor.

"Evening, Preacher," Mr. Fairchild greeted having gotten up from the table, he shook the man's hand. "I'm sure the children will love what you've brought. "Girls."

The girls all thanked the couple then they surrounded the box. Hannah was the first to choose her prize and chose a bonnet for her doll. Alifair chose a wooden fish and Providence a little kitten on wheels. Ottaline selected a bird on a string then they all sat on the floor to examine their new toys.

When Mary-Ellen looked up and saw Astrid sitting off she beckoned her over. "Come," she said. "Chose something for yourself."

Astrid timidly made her way over to the chest and looked inside then she glanced at the lovely little toys her sister's had then looked back into the box. Pushing a pull along aside her eyes fell on the face of a gray eyed man with a cotton beard. Reaching into the chest she gently pulled him out from among the other toys then sat flat, smiling into his face.

"Dear me," Mary-Ellen said. "I didn't know that little nutcracker was in there."

"Don't pick that, Astrid he's ugly," Hannah said. "Pick something else."

But Astrid smoothed the little cotton beard and wiped a smudge from his tall black hat then cradled him in her arms.

"Well I think we found a winner," Preacher said.

"Thank you, Preacher," Astrid said. "What a brave little soldier he must be."

"Well I'm certain he has found a fine new home," Preacher said. He closed the chest and looked out the window. "Well we had best be going before it pours," he said.

"Have some pie to take home," Grace said.

Astrid's sisters tried to show her their new wares but she only had eyes for her nutcracker.