Chapter 13 - Cleaning House on Royal StreetThe following three weeks were a whirlwind of joyous preparation and new beginnings.
Under Fay’s direction, the Cain-Delacroix Trust established an endowment dedicated to providing legal aid, financial literacy, and protective advocacy for young mothers facing debt extortion and domestic abuse across Louisiana.
The domestic staff at the Garden District mansion were given permanent employment contracts with full pension benefits, union wages, and comprehensive healthcare coverage.
Mrs. Odette was given full executive authority over household provisioning, ensuring that all food and supplies were sourced exclusively from honest local vendors, including the historic produce markets on Decatur Street.
One Saturday morning, Fay walked into the grand kitchen.
The scent of fresh cinnamon, brewing dark roast coffee, and warm sourdough bread filled the sunny room.
Mrs. Odette was kneading dough at the marble island with a wide, happy smile.
“Good morning, Miss Fay,” Mrs. Odette greeted her warmly, wiping flour from her hands. “The fresh blackberries arrived from the Ponchatoula farms this morning. Don Rafferty requested his mother’s favorite fruit tarts for afternoon tea.”
“I’ll help you hull the berries, Mrs. Odette,” Fay smiled, reaching for an apron.
Mrs. Odette immediately caught her wrist with gentle firmness, tutting softly under her breath.
“You will do no such thing, young lady,” the old cook scolded affectionately. “The Donna of this house does not hull blackberries on a Saturday morning. You have a bridal gown fitting with the French designers in thirty minutes.”
Fay laughed, leaning down to kiss the old woman’s cheek. “You spoil me, Mrs. Odette.”
“You earned every bit of it, child,” she whispered, her eyes twinkling with happy tears. “Now go on. Don Rafferty is waiting for you in the rose garden.”
Fay walked out through the terrace doors into the estate’s private rose garden.
The gravel paths had been cleared of spring debris, and the early summer roses were blooming in vibrant crimson clusters beneath the morning light.
Rafferty stood by the marble fountain, holding the leash of a bounding, four-month-old golden retriever puppy that was joyfully chasing dry leaves across the grass.
When the puppy saw Fay, he let out a happy yip and bolted down the path, tumbling straight into her shins, wagging his tail furiously.
Fay knelt down, laughing as the puppy showered her face with enthusiastic, wet kisses.
Rafferty walked up, looking down at them with that rare, breathtaking smile that always made her heart race.
“Looks like Barnaby approves of his new mother,” Rafferty murmured, extending a hand to pull her up into his arms.
He buried his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply.
“Vanilla, clean rain, and sweet roses,” he whispered against her skin. “The only scent I ever want to come home to.”
Fay wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling against his cheek.
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“Mrs. Odette kicked me out of the kitchen again, Rafferty.”
“Mrs. Odette is a very wise woman,” he chuckled, his hands resting naturally on her hips. “And she knows that your hands have far more important work to do.”
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