“Mr. Delacroix is not seeing visitors,” he responded to her request to visit.
“Can I make an appointment to see him later today?”
“Unlikely.” The answer was blunt but not rude, which gave her courage.
“Mr. Delacroix and I have been engaged in business correspondence, and I believe it will go better if we meet in person rather than continue through letters.”
The drizzle intensified, bringing a spattering of fat raindrops. There was no overhang protecting the front stoop, and this spice map wouldn’t stand up to a soaking.
“Might I come inside until the rain lets up? I have a valuable artifact to show Mr. Delacroix.” Or rather, a cheap curio map, but the sight of it caused the young man to beckon her inside.
It wasn’t the sort of place she expected an international shipping magnate to live. The spare front hall, low ceilings, and plain colonial furnishings seemed homespun and comforting. The center hallway stretched all the way to the back of the house, where an open door led to a small garden behind the house.
“You can wait in the parlor until the rain lets up, but then you’ll have to be on your way. Mr. Delacroix is in no condition to receive visitors.”
If he was ill, she shouldn’t take her dismissal personally. And the young man seemed nice.
She stuck out her hand. “Hello. I’m Annabelle Larkin. And you are?”
He must have been surprised, because he stared at her outstretched hand for a moment before offering his own. “I’m Otis. Otis LaRue.”
She returned the handshake with vigor and a healthy smile, for this man was her first hurdle in getting to Mr. Delacroix. “Nice to meet you, Otis. Is there a towel I could borrow to dry the artifact? It’s very rare.”
Otis nodded. “Have a seat in the parlor, and I’ll fetch a cloth so you can dry the ... the artifact,” he said with a curious glance at both the rolled map and the bulky portfolio.
“I’d be grateful,” she said. She walked into the front room, where nautical maps and a shiny brass captain’s wheel decorated the walls. Old floorboards creaked as she moved farther inside. Well-made but simple colonial furniture sat in groupings before a brick fireplace.
Otis returned, standing before her with a cloth at the ready. “Ma’am?”
She wasn’t accustomed to being waited on, and it took a moment to realize he was prepared to help dry the map.
“Yes, here. Thank you.” She unrolled the map to blot the back, but Otis flipped it over to study the front.
“What a fantastic map,” he said with a laugh. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Isn’t it delightful? I saw it and immediately thought of Mr. Delacroix.”
Otis nodded. “I agree. On a good day, I think he might like it very much.”
“Otis!” a voice roared from somewhere deep in the house.
“One moment, sir,” the young man called down the hall, then handed the map back to her. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.” He dashed down the hall with admirable agility.
Why did women have to be burdened by so many skirts and layers? On the farm she usually wore her father’s old denim pants to scramble up into haylofts or tend the goats, but that probably wouldn’t go over well in Washington.
Muffled voices leaked out from a closed door at the end of a hall, and a few moments later, Otis returned with his hand outstretched.
“Mr. Delacroix overheard our conversation. He wants to see the map.”
Annabelle tightened her grip on it. If Mr. Delacroix wanted to see the map, he could meet her like any other civilized person. “Oh dear ... it is a very valuable map. I hate to let it go. Perhaps I can make an appointment to come back and show it to him at a more convenient time?”
Given the uneasy look on Otis’s face, it didn’t feel right to paint him into such an awkward position, but she needed to meet Mr. Delacroix in person.
“Otis, send her back here,” the grumpy voice hollered.
Hope welled inside her, and she followed Otis down the hallway. More antiques hung on the wall, where dour-looking people in white wigs frowned from old family portraits. She was shown through a door into a book-lined study. When she got a look at the man behind the desk, she gasped.
The surly expression on his face darkened. “Don’t worry. I’m not contagious,” he said.
