A/N So here it is. I have been off my game for several boring real-life reasons but worked hard to get this finished and posted within the weekend as promised. A long one at least - nearly 5000 words! I could have fiddled with it for a few more days but … nah. Folks have waited long enough. And I really need to go clean my house now. Enjoy :)

Chapter 15

Friday morning Pork reported that Wade Hampton Hamilton could hardly get out of the buggy at school for all the boys crowding around asking questions about the general.

"Lil Miss too," he said. "All them girls was asking her what she heard and what was said and if she wanted to play with them in the schoolyard." Scarlett all but laughed out loud as she boarded the same buggy with Prissy and headed to the construction site.

She'd woken up about three am worrying about the latest development with the general. Almost had some brandy while she mulled it over in her mind.

'He's on my side,' she'd thought with wonderment. 'I don't know that a man, not to mention a - a good, honest, hard-working, well-meaning gentleman - has truly been on my side since Pa died, not one that mattered, anyway.'

Perhaps it wasn't fair to Rhett or even Ashley that she felt that way, but still. They both had motives when it came to her. And even though the general had asked her to do something in return, she still felt he wanted her to succeed, deep down. It was a novel feeling for Scarlett, to be believed in. She had her doubts, however, as to her abilities.

I can handle the accounting part - but the discoursing, confabulating, really listening to people and putting two and two together in an entirely different way - that will take a bit of learning and effort.

However, isn't flirting and socializing a type of manipulation? The demeanors and facial expressions - a type of mask, really - she used when talking to people, her wit and charm, - all tools, if harnessed. She'd certainly known how to watch for the signs of weakness and infatuation and when to go in for the kill with her beaux, after all. There's a reason I graduated as the Number One Flirt at Fayetteville. I just need to take these skills up a few notches and in a new direction.

And then there was General Hampton's faith in her. He knew too much about her not to have heard the controversy regarding her character. Still, he believed in her. Enough to take this chance. She had to prove him right.

He believes I can do this thing whatever evidence there is to the contrary. And I can do it. There's never been anything I couldn't do once I put my mind to it.

Still, insecurities pulled at her mind. Rhett's words, mainly.

'You can't see anything unless it's shoved in front of your face … .'

Yes, when it came to her own feelings, but perhaps she could do better with others, she had been doing better lately. She lifted her chin, entirely hopeful. She would start with the ledgers and records, and see where that went. No use in borrowing trouble from tomorrow.

So lost in thought was Scarlett that she didn't realize they had nearly arrived at the hotel. She took a minute to appreciate the view as they drove up. So much had changed just in the last few days! Through all the hustling and bustling she could see workers were putting the finishing touches on the creamy white stucco and the front facade of the mansion effect was absolutely stunning. It may have been too imposing for a home but as a hotel - it worked. Tate had reworked the wrought iron accents with all the jigsaw work gone. He'd cleaned up the lines, removing cupolas and decorative balconies that served no purpose and made the front door more of a stately entrance.

She caught her breath as she looked at the Mansard roof - Tate had reshaped the formerly colored glass windows at the top into arched dormer windows, much like the hotels in the French Quarter. It totally changed the effect and the house didn't look like the same place at all. She realized with not a little bit of dismay how overdone it had been before - just too busy. A person hadn't really known where to look, there was so much going on, and the effect had been disquieting, to say the least.

Tate walked up to the buggy and helped her down. "Good morning! I love what you've done with the roof!" Scarlett fought the urge to hug him.

"Let's take a stroll and discuss progress, Scarlett," Tate said as they began their way around the property. "It wasn't that difficult - they use Mansard roofs in the French Quarter, so what you had really worked."

Tate bounded about, buoyant with energy. She found it contagious and matched her step to his.

"I added the dormers to reshape it, to soften the visual effect of the steep pitch and even it out a little," he said. 'The high hip roof, arched windows and doors actually achieve our purpose. We'll add some decorative filigree around the front windows. I think you'll like the door when it's delivered."

He pointed out the reworked wrought iron window boxes under the arched windows. Scarlett loved how it looked light and airy and somehow like it had been that way for years.

"We're going to change the driveway to white pea gravel," he said. "Which will also lighten it up.

"I haven't figured out exactly what to do with the iron gazebo and those statues," he pointed to the stag and mastiff. "You could sell the gazebo, or we can add wrought iron filigree to match the architecture of the house. Would you be interested in painting it?"

Scarlett regarded the gazebo. It gave off a rather austere effect, too industrial with all the metal, as Tate had pointed out. Not like her nice little white wood one at Inman Park. It had cost a fortune, however, and she didn't want to give it up. It was huge and could host small tea parties or events. And could be draped in fabric to match.

"Painting is all right with me - either white or verdigris to complement the garden. And perhaps we could add fragrant bushes such as tuberose, tea olive shrubs -that bloom nine months of the year. I'd like to plant magnolias and gardenias around it to kind of soften the lines? Weave wisteria up the sides and over the top?"

Tate nodded approvingly. "Wisteria is an excellent choice. I'll see what shrubbery can be ordered this week. That can be worked in with the landscaping easily."

"As far as the statues - let's move the stag to the entrance to the gazebo and the mastiff by the main veranda steps. We could - decorate them or something - for holidays and events. Hang painted signs around their necks."

Scarlett showed Tate an area of the lawn where she wanted a special flower garden planted. She made a mental note to stop by the sign maker's again. There was something else she had been meaning to order for a while.

They advanced to the front walk as Tate explained the new door would be delivered in the next week.

"We finished the stair demolition yesterday," Tate said, "the men were working well past daylight last night." Several workers were busy loading up the remaining pieces.

To the right of the entryway, workers were framing up what Scarlett assumed to be the new staircase. All the wallpaper had been removed and the walls were being prepped for new paper and accents.

"The lobby is almost done - after the painting this weekend, we will lay the marble floors late next week and cover them with the old carpet pieces to protect them for damage while the other construction is going on. We will also start on the dining room expansion Monday," gestured to the left. The restaurant would take up almost the entire left side of the first floor.

"Your wine and root cellar will certainly come in handy for that. We'll have to take the kitchen staircase," he said. They walked back to the kitchen and he kept talking. "The plan is to paint here last thing as you are still using it to feed the workers. White walls just lighten up the brick and stone kitchen."

They passed Prissy making sandwiches as they headed upstairs.

"All the balconies off of bedrooms on the rear of the house will remain the same," Tate said. "We took down a few on the front, as you noticed, for a cleaner, more open look."

As they reached the second floor Tate explained the rest of the renovations. Scarlett noticed the carpets had already been ripped up.

"We're toning down the ostentatious in general, but keeping all the elaborate crown molding, as it works with the new motif," he said. They walked through the hall where workers were in the process of prepping the walls for paint. "A couple of the bigger bedrooms will be split in two and share a bath.

"I'm waiting on a shipment so we can go about changing out the fixtures on some of the gas lamps - fabulous, by the way, that the entire house has them." He stopped and turned to her, his eyes intent.

"I wanted to talk to you about this. Your old bedroom should be the bridal suite. The modern traveler already expects a degree of opulence in such a suite. All the bathrooms have the most modern amenities, but yours is truly - extravagant. As you saw from my plans the huge dressing room and closet will be converted to a ladies' maid's room.

"We could keep some of the rose gold draperies and such - perhaps add some navy blue, so it wouldn't be so feminine."

Yes, it had been her room. She'd never taken much into consideration what her husband might have wanted; it had all been for her.

Scarlett wanted to sit down a minute. A man had loved her once and this was the bedroom in the house he'd built for her. They had made two babies in this room and lost one of them right here. She'd given birth to Bonnie in this room and laid her to rest in another down the hall. She shook herself mentally as Tate kept talking.

"Virtually nothing to be done to the second kitchen or ballroom other than paint, the marble dance floor is in excellent shape."

Scarlett had another solemn moment when she thought of how she had planned to entertain so extravagantly and had used that ballroom and side kitchen only a couple of times. Rhett has let her do so much that he had absolutely abhorred. She felt melancholy at the excessiveness. But that way of life had eluded her somehow, anyway.

She contemplated as they went back downstairs. Looking around Scarlett felt a moment of intense gratitude for Tate. She may not have been able to stay in the house, but it was going to provide so much more for her family. All the effort and expense would not be for naught. She brightened considerably at the thought.

"Three weeks, maybe four and we'll be done. It will go by fast Scarlett, you better be ready," he winked at her.

"I have something for you," he said and handed her a package, "this came this morning with the supply order at the train station. As well as that over there," he gestured toward a large, thin object that appeared to be a painting leaning against the wall. She recognized the layers of worn quilts wrapped around it and fastened with ropes.

"Oh!. My grandmothers' portrait from Tara," Scarlett said. "We'll have to have it moved into the office." She looked down at the package and recognized the clothier's return address.

Wade had been begging shamelessly for the riveted mustard-colored canvas pants and light collared work shirts that Tate wore and finally they were here. Scarlett told him he had to be useful if she bought him work clothes, even if it was picking up the pieces of wood and bricks left on the lawn. Ella wanted to help after school too but Scarlett didn't want her getting in the construction so she was relegated to the kitchen making sandwiches and pouring tea.

Scarlett let Tate get back to work and took the pile of building invoices; she needed to record them so went into the office to work. Hamp said he would deliver his ledgers and records sometime this week from the party headquarters. She had a closet in the office, a metal-lined vault actually, to keep them in, although she had a feeling it wouldn't be big enough. After completing paperwork for the hotel she intended to work on cleaning it out.

She took a break around noon for a midday meal with Tate and then got back to cleaning out the vault. About an hour later she heard a commotion outside her office and stepped out to see Leif, standing in the foyer somehow looking taller and even more striking than she remembered, and also slightly windblown, with his arms full.

"Scarlett!" he said, stepping forward, A petite brunette with caramel-colored eyes peeked out from behind him and smiled in greeting. "I've brought you a surprise!"

He appeared so pleased with himself that she suppressed a giggle.

"This is Babette," he said, pulling the woman forward, "your new head chef for the Hotel Robillard."

Tate came down the stairs. "Ask him how he snatched her from the Commander's Palace," he leaned forward and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, "it's a heck of a story."

Leif laughed. "I didn't snatch anything that didn't want to be snatched," he said as he handed her a stack of menus on top of what looked to be a book wrapped in brown paper.

"Those I pilfered from the finest restaurants in New Orleans," he admitted, the sheepish expression on his handsome face somehow incongruent with his overwhelming maleness and endearing at the same time.

Scarlett looked over them quickly - Antoine's, Tujague's, and of course the Commander's. Her stomach nearly grumbled as she read through the delicacies - turtle soup finished with sherry, Oysters Rockefeller, boudin sausage, crawfish etouffee, foie gras and the pastries - oh, my. She was hit with a wave of honeymoon nostalgia, which she quickly shrugged off. No time for that.

"You can unwrap the book," Leif said. "It will also give you some ideas, I think."

Scarlett sat down and quickly took the wrap off the book. Le Grand Dictionnaire de Cuisine by Alexandre Dumas. Huge, nearly 1200 pages. The author's name sounded familiar. She wrinkled her brow. Surely not.

"One and the same. He also wrote The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo," Leif confirmed. Oh, Wade would have a fit.

"I've been thinking about the menu for the restaurant. Atlanta being landlocked will present challenges for traditional New Orleans fare, but Babette," he gestured to the lady in question, "is a classically trained French chef, and this book will give you the names of most any French dish you might like to try," Leif said.

Scarlett remembered her manners and introduced herself to Babette, who spoke with just a hint of a French accent.

Leif smiled back at her, blue eyes sparkling. "And I bought you these from a pralinière on St. Charles Avenue," he said as he handed her the last box in his hands, "although Babette says her grandmother's recipe is better."

Scarlett looked down at the tissue-lined box of pecan pralines. They smelled divine, of butter, sugar, cream and nuts, and she hadn't had much lunch. It was an acceptable gift - came under the heading of candy - an acceptable gift for a gentleman to give a lady, that is, but usually a gentleman caller.

As if anticipating her reaction he added quite glibly "we could serve them in the restaurant with ice cream, or sell them in the gift shop as souvenirs. So this gift comes under the heading of commerce."

"My great-great-great-grandmother was a casquette girl, brought to New Orleans from an Ursuline convent in Paris to find a husband," Babette said. Oh yes, Scarlett had learned of these on a carriage tour of New Orleans.

"In France, they were made with almonds but the recipe was converted to pecans once across the Atlantic."

Scarlett noticed another large parcel on the floor as well as a huge basket of gorgeous fruit next to it.

"I brought some kites for the children, '' Leif said, "and some items Dilcey wanted."

Babette picked up the basket and handed it to Scarlett. "From the market. I carried it on my lap the entire train ride."

"My goodness," Scarlett said, a tad overwhelmed. "This is too much, why, the children will be thrilled."

"Let me show you the kitchen, Babette," Tate said, smoothly taking the basket from Scarlett and leading Babette down the hall.

She and Leif were left alone, perhaps for the first time. He smiled and indicated the kites, still packaged at his feet.

"I hope you don't mind. Ella had mentioned the kites, and I passed these in a store. April winds will be over soon so I bought several and thought anyone who wanted to could go fly them this weekend and catch the last of the kite-flying weather."

Scarlett nodded. "That sounds lovely."

He examined her face for a moment. "I also hope you don't think I presumed with Babette. She wanted to get out of the city for a while and I thought perhaps this would work for you.

"She's a real find - if she could get familiar with your kitchen and prepare some dishes, you could see if it's what you want. Of course, I will defer to your preferences, there is no obligation."

Scarlett wondered briefly if there was more to his relationship with Babette, a thought she didn't care for, nor did she care to explore the reasons for that in her mind.

"Oh no! I appreciate it so," she dimpled at him almost reflexively, her usual professional demeanor cracked just a bit under his charm and thoughtfulness. He was such a beautiful man too, all big and golden-haired and with those eyes like pools of deep blue water, pulling her in … stop that, she admonished herself. Married woman doing business here. Focus is imperative.

The menus and the pralines along with everything Leif had said went around in her mind. Pecans grew wild in groves by the river at Tara, and there were crawfish in the fast-moving stream. She looked up at Leif, who was watching her face curiously.

"I really like the idea of serving pralines in the restaurant and selling them in the gift shop. Pecans grow wild in the woods at Tara," she explained at his quizzical glance, "the plantation I own with my sisters, where I grew up. We could also buy from the neighbors and help them out. The nuts are expensive and hard to get all year round. But there are lots there.

"And you're right about the seafood. However, crawfish is a big part of New Orleans fare, and we have crawfish in the river and the creeks! So, between your chef, the crawfish and pecans at Tara, and this book," she waved it dramatically, "I think we have a start, at least."

"Good," he said with a grin, and it sounded just a little like guut; she'd been picking up a tad on his Nordic accent. And she liked it.

"How long does Tate say it will be until the renovations are complete?"

"Three, maybe four weeks he said this morning."

They began to make their way back to the kitchen.

"Not that much time to develop the menu," Leif said. "There are ways to promote a business that I have utilized in the past and have been highly successful. Babette can make beignets to give out on the sidewalks free of charge, and could also do that with small pralines."

Too expensive! Scarlett's mind screamed. No pralines! Beignets, possibly … .

She pasted a smile on her face as Leif continued. Not a big one for giving things away in business, but perhaps he knew what he was talking about.

"We could do a practice dinner or even dinners. I will ask first, but I am sure Babette could make supper here tomorrow night. A sample meal."

"A practice dinner?"

"Yes. This kitchen is in working order," he continued. "We could dine on the veranda. It would give her a chance to see what she might need done in the kitchen, as well."

Scarlett considered the matter. "So it will be the four of us including Babette. Will Ennis come?" She knew he had been working too hard this week.

"I sure hope so," Tate said. "That man needs a secretary but him being from Boston he doesn't know anyone."

Scarlett combed her brain. Who did she know that could work for Ennis? He had been so busy the last she saw him. Overworked and behind. The only person she knew would be India Wilkes. Well-read, with an interest in the law, so exposed with her years of helping Uncle Henry, who had slowed down in the taking of new clients. Ennis could pay her, and she needed the money, although she would probably balk at taking a job. But as General Hampton had pointed out, women needed to change their way of thinking in this new world. What would Emma do?

Scarlett gathered her reticule and gloves. "Invite him, and tell him it's a business dinner and I have someone who I think would make him an excellent secretary in mind."

She called for the buggy, cursing in her mind at how complicated her day had become.

India answered the door. "Ashley's at the mills," she said.

"Not looking for him. Are you going to ask me in?" She stood back and let Scarlett enter.

They both took seats and regarded one another across the parlor.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" India's face appeared rather stiff as she tried to arrange her features into a pleasant expression. Scarlett stifled a sigh.

"Well, India, I know you've been by Peachtree Street and you've seen what I'm doing,'' slight nod here. "My business partner has brought a chef from New Orleans and she's going to prepare a sample dinner tomorrow night. The architect will be there, as well as my new attorney."

"Yes. Uncle Henry is not pleased."

Scarlett contained her eye roll. He's in his eighties for God's sake, and furthermore has all the business he can handle.

"Any matter, I need another lady to round out the guest list and to give an objective opinion of the meal from a local perspective. We are keeping it small.

"And my attorney is looking for a secretary. He is from Boston and extremely nice. Also good looking, unattached, and about your age." India opened her mouth but Scarlett kept talking.

"I know ladies don't normally work, but really, India, you could use the income, if he hired you. You also need to get out of this house," She leaned forward and put her hand on India's. "Why, General Hampton was telling me just the other day how he wished Southern women would engage in industry and business more."

This piqued her interest. "Is that so? And will he be attending the dinner?"

"Mostly likely too short a notice for him." India's face fell.

"It's short notice for me."

"Yes, but I figured you'd be free to attend."

Slight glare.

"But we will most likely be doing another practice dinner in the next week or so, and I will invite him to that one." India perked back up.

"So even if you don't take the job, there will be three eligible gentlemen there.

Not Southerners, not Carpetbaggers or Republicans, either." She got a slight frown.

"It's refreshing, India. These are quality people. Not like - not like I was socializing with before."

"Why would you invite me?"

Perhaps I owe you a beau. I just took Stuart to make a matching pair with Brent, after all.

"I don't know any other woman who fits this bill. You've worked as a legal secretary of a sort in the past, and you're not attached."

'What should I wear?"

"It will be casual, as we are dining in the unfinished hotel, on the veranda. Just a supper dress would be fine, but wear your best," she proceeded carefully with the next question. "Do you have anything suitable?"

"Yes, I happen to have a fairly new supper dress, as luck would have it." That was a welcome surprise, as poor as Scarlett knew her to be.

'Is it black?" Please dear God, no.

"No, it's camel-colored with tan trim," India said, somewhat defensively.

"Doesn't that just mean tan with tan trim?" India gave her a look and didn't answer. Scarlett tried to think of a more boring color combination for a dress and failed. Miserably.

She regarded India. It might work, upon reflection. She had a yellowish, sallow complexion that would go well with - tan, Scarlett supposed. Bone structure not bad, similar to her brother's, but more feminine. Eyebrows and eyelashes so light and sparse you could barely see them. And her hair … . She didn't have a ladies' maid, and obviously needed one.

"Well, come by the Inman Park house early," Scarlett said, "and we'll get Prissy to do your hair, she's very good at it. Try to get a little sun out in your garden before then, just on your cheeks."

India looked indignant, which annoyed her; she was only trying to help the woman.

"It won't hurt anything India, you stay cooped up with books all the time, just read them outside tomorrow."

India nodded and smiled a bit. She had been more circumspect in her attitude toward Scarlett since Melly's death but still, Scarlett felt she had to address the issue.

"These people have a favorable opinion of me, India, and I would appreciate it if you didn't cut me in front of them. Or gossip afterward. Other than my children, this project is my life right now." She took a breath before continuing.

"I am trusting your discretion. It's just business but it can still be pleasant. No one invites me anywhere, so I have to make my own way now."

India nodded, watching her. Scarlett met her eyes stare for stare.

This woman ruined my life. Wasn't that the exact same thing she'd thought about Belle?

She shoved those thoughts away. Charles called me sunshine and that's what I'm going to be. I will not let the past hold me back and drag me down. I'm going to open like a daisy and greet the world. Every damn day.

"So it's settled. But there at five. We shall dine around seven or so with the sunset."

Their meeting concluded, Scarlett stood to leave.

"Do you think Fanny might like to come perhaps to a future practice dinner? I will need at least one more lady to round out the guest list, especially if the general will attend." Also, I owe her a husband.

"I'll ask her." India stood also and they made their way to the door.

"Oh Scarlett," she said, her face brightening a bit. "Did you know that Dolly Merriweather went home and shaved her mustache right after your comment the other day?"

Scarlett's eyes danced. "No, I did not. Although I hardly see how she denied its existence all these years when she had to push it out of the way with her thumb every time she took a sip of tea."

The two women looked at each other for a moment before dissolving into peals of laughter. Together. For the first time in history.

OOOOooooOOOOoooo

Thank you for your thoughts and feelings, they do mean the world to me. On to the next chapter, with kite-flying and a supper party and perhaps, something from Nassau … .

Also, The Commander's Palace wasn't built until a few years later, so I took some liberties. I just like that place. I grew up in Mississippi, and I now live in North Carolina, and I can vouch for the fact that crawfish can be found in freshwater all over the South. They particularly flourish in red clay mud :)