“How many other black relatives do you have?” Jasmine asked the older woman.
Hannah’s lids slipped down over her eyes. “I have no idea.”
“The DuPont men must have enjoyed dipping theirquillsinto various inkwells.”
Hannah smiled for the first time since the telephone call. “You’re right, given the number of children they had with their mistresses.” She zipped the duffle and scooped a leather tote off the window seat. She nodded to Jasmine. “I’m ready. The keys are downstairs.”
* * *
Jasmine stood on the porch, watching the taillights of the Mercedes Benz sedan until they disappeared from sight. She wondered if her reaction would’ve been similar to Hannah if she’d gotten a call to help a relative she’d never met.
Hannah had never denied there were black people in her family. In fact, she seemed very proud of the fact her fifth generation great-grandmother was a free mulatto Haitian. It took only two generations for the main branch of the DuPont family tree to be recorded in the census as white, while their illegitimate children were recorded as Negro or colored.
Turning on her heel, she went back into the house, closing and locking the door, and then she armed the security system. She felt Smokey brush against her leg. “It’s just you and me until your mama comes back.” The cat meowed softly as if he understood what Jasmine was saying. She knew the cat had an automatic feeder, watering system, and self-cleaning litter box which meant she didn’t have to cat-sit.
Sighing, she made her way up the staircase to the guest bedroom. Jasmine didn’t know whether it was fatigue or the heat that had sapped her energy. The heat hadn’t bothered her as a child when she’d slept in her grandparents’ house with only a fan circulating the buildup of hot air.
Her eyelids were drooping as she brushed her teeth and washed her face. She adjusted the thermostat on the wall outside the bedrooms, climbed into bed and within minutes of closing her eyes she had fallen asleep.
Chapter 13
Cameron pulled up to the curb outside Hannah’s house at the same time the front door opened and Jasmine stepped onto the porch. When she’d called to let him know she was in town he’d begun counting down the days when he would see her again.
He shifted into Park, but did not cut off the engine. He was out of the car by the time she’d come off the last stair. His eyes took in everything about her in one, sweeping glance: her hair pulled into a ponytail, bare face with only a hint of lip gloss, powder-blue slip dress ending at the knees, and blue-and-white striped espadrilles.
Cameron curved an arm around her waist, lowered his head, and brushed a light kiss over her slightly parted lips. “How are you?”
Jasmine rested a hand on his stubble. “Okay.”
He pulled back, staring into a pair of eyes the color of rich dark coffee. “Just okay?”
She nodded. “It’s the heat.”
“I know. It’s been brutal. Come, babe. I have the air on in the car.” Cameron led her over to the off-white sports car. He waited until she was seated and belted-in before taking his own seat. “Is it cool enough?”
Jasmine smiled at him. “Yes. Thank you.”
He rested a hand on her knee. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like you to see the house before we go to brunch.”
“It’s fine with me.”
Cameron shifted into gear, executed a U-turn and reversed direction.She’s different,he mused. There was something about Jasmine’s demeanor he found slightly unsettling. When she’d called him to let him know she was in New Orleans, she’d sounded tired and he’d attributed that to traveling and the intense heat and humidity. He’d suggested meeting on Saturday to give her a full day to rest and settle in. But, even now she appeared fatigued, lethargic.
“Were you and Hannah up until all hours talking last night?”
“No. Hannah’s in Baton Rouge with a hospitalized elderly relative.”
Cameron gave Jasmine a quick glance. Her eyes were closed. “When is she coming back?”
“She’s not sure.”
“You’ve been staying here alone?”
Jasmine opened her eyes. “No. Smokey keeps me company.”
“He’s a cat!”
“I know he’s a cat.”
