The Inheritance Page 2

  Nydia sipped her mimosa, staring at Hannah over the rim. “He doesn’t have what I’d call a traditional job. Right now he works part-time as a waiter during the day and sings with a Latin band at night and on the weekends. He’s recorded a demo record, but so far he hasn’t been able to sign with a label.”

  Tonya turned a perfectly done omelet sprinkled with grated cheddar cheese along with warm cherry tomatoes onto a plate for Jasmine. She gave Nydia a direct stare. “At fifty, I’m old enough to be your mama, and I’m going to tell you the same thing I tell my daughter. Don’t hook up with a man who can’t match what you bring to the table. You can offer him moral support, but once you start opening your wallet to help him, you’ll never close it. Am I right, Hannah?”

  Hannah felt three pairs of eyes staring at her. What did Tonya expect her to say? She’d never been faced with that dilemma. “I suppose you’re right, even though I never had to take care of a man. My late husband was a career naval officer and my son knew early on that he wanted to be a pilot. After graduating from the Air Force Academy, he became a test pilot and now flies commercial jets.”

  “Lucky you,” Jasmine said. “But that’s not going to solve Nydia’s problem.”

  Tonya took a long swallow of her Bellini, and then quickly wiped out the omelet pan with a damp cloth. “Nydia wouldn’t have a problem if she just took care of herself and not a grown-ass man. Where’s he living now?”

  Nydia ran a hand over dark-brown curls. Her large hazel eyes in an alizarin-brown complexion were filled with indecision. “He’s living with his sister. I suppose I’m anticipating something that probably won’t happen at all.”

  “I believe you’re deluding yourself,” Hannah stated in a quiet tone. “The fact you mention having it out with your boyfriend means you’ve had arguments about this in the past.”

  “Listen to the voice of wisdom,” Tonya stated confidently. “Hannah and I have lived long enough not to steer you wrong.”

  “Thankfully, I don’t have that problem because, thanks to Hannah, I was able to get my fair share from my ex for what had been our business,” Jasmine announced proudly. She speared a forkful of omelet, and then popped it into her mouth.

  A slight frown furrowed Nydia’s forehead. “You didn’t tell me you were Hannah’s client.”

  Hannah gave Jasmine a disapproving glance. Jasmine had sought her out for legal advice, and she’d been forthcoming when advising her what she could do to get a share of the import /export business the former interior decorator had established prior to marrying. Hannah had also cautioned Jasmine not to tell anyone about their meetings, but now it was of no consequence because she doubted whether she would see her co-workers again after today.

  “I wasn’t, but she did steer me in the right direction because I suspected my attorney was being paid off by my ex,” Jasmine explained. A smile tilted the corners of her generous mouth. “She became my guardian angel when I was at a low point in my life.”

  Nydia applauded. “Talk about sisterhood.”

  Jasmine shook her head, frowning slightly. “Sisterhood aside, now I have to think about what I want to do next.”

  “What business did you have with your ex?” Tonya asked Jasmine.

  Jasmine reached for her flute and took a sip of the champagne infused with orange juice. “We bought and sold Asian artifacts. I was an interior decorator in a former life. I met Raymond Rios during a trip to the Philippines when I went there to buy several pieces for a client. We dated long distance for a year before we married.”

  Hannah drained her cocktail, her eyes measuring each woman seated at the breakfast bar. They all had options because of their ages. Nydia was in her early thirties, Jasmine in her forties, and Tonya had recently celebrated the big five-oh, while she would celebrate her fifty-ninth birthday before the end of the year. Even with a law degree, she still would have a problem securing a position with a salary matching what she’d earned at Wakefield Hamilton. And she didn’t want to go online searching for companies or firms looking for someone with her experience.

  “How long were you married?” Nydia asked Jasmine.

  “Twelve years. And before anyone asks, we never had children—at least not together. What I didn’t know was that my dog of an ex had an affair with another woman. After he became a baby daddy, and unbeknownst to me, he had a vasectomy, so that ruined my chance of having a child with him.” Jasmine downed her drink. “I think that’s enough true confessions for one day.”

  Tonya shook her head. “Don’t worry, Jasmine, he’ll get his.”

  A sardonic smile flittered over Jasmine’s features. “He got his when I got the condo, the car, and when I sold the business, he walked away with only ten percent instead of half. He eventually moved in with his side chick. She lives in public housing in Brooklyn with three badass kids all from different daddies.”

  Nydia applauded loudly, and then raised her flute in a salute. “I’ve always said karma is a bitch.”

  Hannah laughed, touching her empty flute to the others. Jasmine hadn’t given her an update on her ex-husband’s fall from living the high life. “Here’s to happy endings.”

  “Happy endings,” the others chorused.

  Hannah sobered as she mulled over the next phase of her life. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I plan to take the summer off and then decide what I’m going to do.”

  “I’m going to do the same,” Tonya said, ladling a perfectly turned-out omelet on a plate for Hannah. “My daughter’s home from college and I want us to spend some time together before she goes back to Atlanta for her senior year.”

  “What are you going to do after she goes back?” Hannah asked Tonya.

  “I’m going to go job hunting. I don’t believe I’m going to have a problem getting another position, but the difference is I’m going to have to start at the bottom again. That’s going to take some getting used to after being assistant executive chef for the past four years.”

  Pale eyebrows lifted slightly when Hannah angled her head. “Why don’t you come down to New Orleans and visit with me for a while?”

  Again, she didn’t know why she felt the urge to stay connected to her now former co-workers; maybe it was because she didn’t have a sister and hadn’t formed any close friendships with the women with whom she’d attended college or when living on base, and it made her acutely aware of how sterile her social life had become. If it hadn’t been for her cousins, there would be no women in her life. Even as a military wife she’d kept her distance from the wives of the other naval officers because they were cliquish and prone to idle and occasionally malicious gossip.

  Tonya whisked eggs until they were fluffy before she turned them into the omelet pan with sautéed ham and peppers. “If I decide to come, then I want to bring my daughter with me.”

  Hannah’s smile was dazzling. “Please bring her. There’s more than enough room for anyone who wants to come.”

  “How much room are you talking about, Hannah?” Nydia asked.

  “The house has eighteen bedrooms and two guesthouses.” A swollen silence followed her reply. Her smile fading, she gave each woman a long, penetrating stare. “What’s the matter?”

  “You live in an eighteen-room mansion?” Jasmine questioned, breaking the silence.

  She nodded. “Yes. I inherited it from my father, who inherited it from his father, and every generation as far back as two hundred years.”

  Tonya narrowed her eyes. “It’s a plantation house.” The question was a statement. Hannah nodded. The chef went completely still, the ladle suspended in midair. “There’s no way I’m going to stay in a house where my ancestors once worked as slaves.”

  Hannah recoiled as if she’d been impaled with a sharp object. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your house, Hannah,” Tonya spat out. “If it’s at least two hundred years old, then your people were slaveholders—”

  “Stop it!” Hannah shouted at the same time a rush of bl
ood suffused her fair complexion. “You know nothing about me or my family, yet you—”

  “I’m with Tonya,” Jasmine interrupted, cutting off whatever Hannah attempted to say. “Although people see me as Filipino I’m also African American. My father’s people come from North Carolina.”

  Shaking her head, Nydia held up a hand. “As a Puerto Rican I’m staying out of this shit.”

  Anger and resentment made it nearly impossible for Hannah to think coherently. Tonya and Jasmine were judging her unfairly. She counted slowly until she eventually regained her composure. “I’m not going to lie and say one of my ancestors didn’t own slaves, but it’s not what you think.”

  Resting her hands on her hips, Tonya glared at her. “Now you say you know what I think?”

  “No!” Hannah shouted. “And dammit, let me finish.”

  She must have gotten through to the chef. Tonya nodded. “I’m sorry. Explain.”

  “As the son of a wealthy French shipbuilder, my fifth great-grandfather, Etienne DuPont, sailed from Marseille to Haiti in 1779 where he set up a sugarcane plantation. He purchased a number of West African slaves to work in the fields, others as household servants, and some as boiler men at the sugar mills. Etienne refused to marry any of the daughters of the European colonists because he’d fallen in love with an affranchise—a free mulatto woman. Margit lived with him as his mistress and gave him a son and three daughters. Things changed when Haiti claimed its independence from European rule and Etienne’s younger brother, Jean-Paul, convinced him to leave the island and settle in Louisiana where he’d started up a shipbuilding company. Etienne appointed Jean-Paul as his agent, directing him to purchase land for a sugarcane plantation in the Louisiana territory.”

  Hannah felt a measure of satisfaction as the three women were seemingly spellbound when she told them Etienne’s mistress wouldn’t leave Haiti with his children unless he freed his slaves and took them to Louisiana as free people of color.

  A hint of a smile curved Tonya’s lips. “Did he?”

  Hannah broke into a wide, open smile. “Of course he did. After all, his mistress was a free woman and not his property. Margit, realizing the power she wielded over Etienne, persuaded him to draw up a legal document making their son his legal heir and agreeing to have their children educated in France.”

  Tonya winked at Hannah. “What’s the expression? Once you go black, you don’t go back.”

  A becoming blush stained Hannah’s cheeks. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.” She’d researched her family’s history after uncovering several trunks filled with diaries, letters, family Bibles, and legal documents dating back to the early eighteenth century. Many were yellowed, fragile, and a few were covered with mold. When she called the archivist at the local historical society to donate the items, the woman was so excited she couldn’t stop stuttering.

  Smiling, Jasmine leaned forward, meeting Hannah’s eyes. “What happened to Etienne and Margit after they moved to Louisiana?”

  “That’s a very long story, but if you’re willing to come to New Orleans, then I’ll give you an in-depth history about the DuPonts.”

  Crestfallen, Jasmine’s smile quickly faded. “That’s blackmail, and you of all people should know that’s illegal.”

  Tonya managed to look contrite. “I’m sorry I accused your folks of owning slaves, although initially they did. And I accept your invitation to come and visit you in Nawlins. But, I have to tell you now that I don’t like flying, which means I’ll rent a car and Samara and I will drive down.”

  Hannah smiled in smug delight at the same time she inclined her head. “Apology accepted.” There was something about the three women she liked, and she didn’t want whatever fragile camaraderie they’d just fostered to end once they walked out the door. Although she planned to spend the summer in New Orleans, she wouldn’t have the company of her cousins; they’d made plans to go abroad with a group of retired schoolteachers.

  Nydia made a sucking sound with her tongue and teeth. “Why are you dragging your feet, Jasmine? Why don’t you join Tonya and her daughter? Because you’ve got nothing here stopping you from going.”

  Jasmine glared at the accountant. “Neither do you,” she countered.

  “Hello,” Nydia drawled. “I do have a boyfriend.”

  “A boyfriend who’s looking for a woman to take care of him,” Jasmine said accusingly. “Don’t be like me, chica. After we were separated, my ex told me he never would’ve hooked up with me if I hadn’t had a viable business. That was my first mistake, because the big three-oh was staring me in the face and I wanted to be married. My second mistake was letting him take control of a business in which I’d invested my blood, sweat, and tears to make a success.” She held up a hand when Nydia opened her mouth to interrupt her. “And you would be very successful if you were a tax accountant. Rent an office in your neighborhood and do taxes from January to June and you’ll probably make enough money where you won’t have to work for the rest of the year.”

  “She’s right, Jasmine,” Hannah said. “I doubt at fifty-eight that I’m going to spend the rest of my life working for someone else.”

  Nydia pulled her lip between her teeth, and then asked, “What would you do? Open your own practice?”

  “No,” Hannah replied, shaking her head. “I’ve been thinking about turning the house in New Orleans into an inn.” She didn’t tell them she’d spent countless hours researching what went into operating an inn. Once she felt confident about going into business for herself, she’d applied for the permits and licenses to convert the historic home from a personal residence to a business.

  “Don’t you mean a bed-and-breakfast?” Tonya questioned.

  “No. I mean an inn where folks will want to stay the night or longer. I haven’t planned to offer meals because I would have to use the floor I need for my personal space.”

  Leaning against the back of the stool, Nydia nodded. “It looks as if you’ve really got yourself together.”

  Hannah smiled. “Honey, let me tell you that if I didn’t have it together at my age, then I doubt if I’d ever get it together. Husband or no husband, women have to take care of themselves or they’ll wind up royally fucked, because they’ll have to depend on someone to dole out whatever crumbs they decide to give you. Did I say something wrong?” she asked when the trio stared at her with shocked expressions.

  Tonya was the first to react. “I just didn’t expect our little Southern belle to drop the F-bomb.”

  She didn’t tell the others that she’d spewed a litany of curses once she’d uncovered her husband’s ongoing affairs with a number of different women after his first heart attack, which resulted in her moving out their bedroom. “Sometimes it’s necessary to make a point.”

  “You’ve made your point,” Jasmine said under her breath. “I’ve never been to New Orleans, so count me in. I have a Yukon Denali so, Tonya, you and your daughter can ride down with me.”

  Nydia blew out an audible breath. “Count me in too. I’ve always wanted to visit the Big Easy, and I’m willing to help with the driving.”

  “We can all help with driving,” Tonya added, “including my daughter. We’ll have a sister-girl road trip, stopping at night to check into a hotel before getting back on the road in the morning.”

  “I’ll map out the route,” Jasmine volunteered, “and I’ll confirm the reservations at whatever hotels you prefer. We should exchange numbers, and then coordinate a time that’s convenient for everyone.”

  Hannah laced her fingers together in a prayerful gesture. “Whatever you decide, I’ll make certain y’all have a good time.” She gave them the number to her cell and home in New Orleans.

  It was nearly noon when she contacted the concierge to call a car service to take the three women home. Hannah didn’t know whether she would see them again after their visit, but at least she would be left with lasting good memories of her time at the bank instead of remembering being unceremoniously dismissed
without prior notice.

  Chapter 3

  Hannah stared out the window as the jet began its descent, and then glanced at her watch. The nonstop flight left New York on time and was scheduled to arrive on time. She made the reservation to leave at six in the morning because she wanted to spend a few hours with her cousins before they left for their European vacation. A wry smile flitted over her features as she realized she was going home and had no timetable as to when she’d return.

  Familiar landmarks came into view as the plane touched down at the Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport. After retrieving her carry-on from the overhead bin, she followed the signs leading to ground transportation. A taxi pulled up to the curb, the driver getting out and taking her bag and storing it in the trunk, while she got in and settled back against the leather seat.

  “Where to, madam?”

  Hannah hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes and dozed off for several seconds until hearing the cabbie’s voice. “The DuPont House in the Garden District.”

  She knew her current sleep patterns were out of sync. Now that she was unemployed, she stayed up well past midnight watching movies she’d missed and many others she’d seen but were personal favorites. It had been a little more than week since the layoffs, and she still contemplated her future. And though she’d talked about turning the DuPont House into an inn, the thought of overseeing it alone was more than daunting. The few times she’d broached the subject with her cousins, they were reluctant to begin another career as innkeepers.

  Reaching for her cell phone, Hannah tapped the button for her son’s residence. It rang twice. “Lowell residence.” The feminine voice on the other end of the line was cheerful.

  “Hello, Karen.”

  “Mother! How are you?”

  “I’m well, thank you. I’m calling to let you know I plan to spend the summer in New Orleans and would like to schedule a time when I can see my grandbabies.”

  “Are you taking sick leave?”

  “No. I’m just not working this summer.” She wasn’t quite ready to tell her son and daughter-in-law that she’d been terminated. Both were overprotective, while not realizing she was more than capable of caring for herself. Her son checked in with her every Sunday night, and when he was out of the country Karen either called or emailed her. “When is a good time for me to see my little darlings?” she asked again. She enjoyed interacting with her eight- and ten-year-old grandsons; the past two years she’d taken them to popular theme parks.