May 29, 2021 Ok folks, I don't have a chapter this week. If I had to say it will be at least another week, probably two. I have lots of material and plans, but working out scenes and dialogue takes time. And I really like to write and improve my dialogue.

In the meantime. I just got back from Charleston, where I did a *little* writing. Last night I saw six wrecks, had four detours and passed an 18-wheeler on fire on the drive back to Asheville and it took seven hours instead of the usual four. People are desperate to vacay and they're out in droves. Be careful if you travel. I ain't goin' nowhere until Tuesday.

So I was in line at Ulta in Charleston buying a couple of dark blue-green polishes for my daughter's and my toes (we always do this at the beach) and this woman waiting next to me commented that they were 'mermaid' colors. I agreed, and then she told me she was in some charitable group called 'The Charleston Mermaids' and I should look it up. So I did and I'm not sure which one she was in (she was an older biker chick with long blonde hair in a ponytail so I think it may be a biker group I didn't find, but not sure). I did, however, find a fascinating story.

While you are waiting for the next chappie please google 'The Charleston Mermaid Incident' and you'll find this crazy story about how a hoo-doo priestess and an apothecary got into a competition in 1867. It's hilarious. Now some accounts said it's a Gullah-Geechee priestess, which fits in more with Charleston, but anyway, it's interesting as all get-out to me. Since I've already mentioned hoo-doo I'm gonna use it in the story somehow, not sure exactly how though.

See you soon, sweet readers. And take care of yourselves! Peace, misscyn

Disclaimer: I own none but my own.

Inspirations this round:

People generally see what they look for, and hear what they listen for.

—Harper Lee's Judge John Taylor in To Kill a Mockingbird

"The only word for goodness is goodness, and it is not enough." ― Pat Conroy, The Prince of Tides

You can lead a horticulture, but you can't make her think.

— Dorothy Parker

It's still Sunday night at the beginning of this chapter, folks.

OOOOooooOOOOooooOOOO

Chapter 27

When the laughter died down Scarlett noticed Belle continued looking around the lobby, taking note of all the changes to the décor, including the removal of that God-awful staircase. They quickly made final plans for Wednesday night lessons at the Inman Park guest house and Belle soon took her leave out the back door with Phoebe, which left Scarlett waiting for Leif in the office while the children chatted with Prissy in the lobby.

Scarlett felt herself dragging. She glanced down at her simple dress, wrinkled and rather sad here at the end of the long day. She checked the mirror and all but gasped when she spied her hair, tousled and nearly all the way loose. Leif watched her dismayed reaction, wry amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth, making that crescent half-moon dimple, the one she found herself searching for, deepen in his cheek.

"What?" she asked, a tad annoyed as she addressed his reflection through the mirror. His perfect reflection, of course, not a blond hair out of place, his blue eyes complemented by the gray silk cravat, both shimmering in the candlelight.

"You," he returned easily. "Fussing over your appearance." She sent him a questioning look but he did not elaborate. The light way he spoke to her reminded her so much of the rapport she'd had with the boys growing up back home, before she went to Fayetteville. And for a while, with her present husband—before they were married, of course.

"Who was that lady in your office?" he stepped away to close and lock one of the front windows, which had been cracked to let in a breeze. "Something about her seemed familiar."

She turned sharply away from the window then, just in time to see Prissy's eyes widen in shock and not a scant bit of horror, which normally would have been comical. Scarlett shot her a quelling look.

So much for the rapport. "How do you mean?"

He shrugged those massive shoulders and again didn't give any more details, his fine brow wrinkled in apparent concentration as he tried to place the considerably toned-down madam. Scarlett's eyes narrowed. It made her uncomfortable in several different ways that Leif would know Belle, not the least of which was the fact that she'd been trying her damndest to keep their arrangement a secret.

"Something," he finally allowed, waving his hand in the air dismissively. "Perhaps I've seen her at the Wine and Spirits Exchange," he added, but not sounding too convinced himself. "I've gone by there several times this week building up the restaurant and bar stock. It's been crowded here right before the holiday." He looked at her expectantly, obviously still waiting for a name.

Scarlett pretended to be busy straightening papers and didn't answer as she desperately tried to come up with an appropriate and plausible response. She suddenly remembered what Babette said about how perhaps Leif knew Rhett from New Orleans and opened her mouth to ask her own question, but just then Ella came in and they had to resume gathering the children and closing up for the night.

They loaded up Leif's smaller open-air buggy without much fanfare and in spite of herself, Scarlett leaned against him as they talked a bit, allowing his presence and the ride to lull her into a state of relaxation, comfort, and safety. That same feeling his steady gentleness always inspired despite his towering and muscular frame. The heat that emanated from his body, and his woodsy scent, of juniper and pine, cedar and leather made her think of cool, dry forests on the other side of the world; a side she'd never thought much about before she met this enigmatic man.

"We didn't get much time at the hotel tonight, Mother," Wade leaned forward as he spoke so she could hear. She loved that he wasn't calling it 'home' anymore, although she wished they had more time to spend at their new home. Not enough hours in the day. "Ella and I both like being there and seeing all the progress."

"Yes, Mother, we want to be there more," Ella said, sounding somehow sleepy and excited at the same time. Such a change from before, Scarlett pondered, wondering, not for the first time, if the turnaround in attitude would be attributed more to the new people and the physical changes, or perhaps Dilcey's cleansing—the thought of which, for some reason, amused her.

"Well, you will be getting more time. First thing in the morning, actually. Ella with Babette and we have events planned and lots to do and I'm going to need all your help," she turned and gave both children a pointed smirk, which they may or may not have caught in the moonlight, before addressing Beau. "Is that alright with you, Mr. Wilkes?"

Beau answered in the affirmative, no surprise. All the activity turned out to be beneficial for him as well, as quiet and uneventful as his own home had become since Melly's passing.

"About the events," Leif said, launching into business mode. She did love to hear his opinions and the different manner he approached business, a clarity of acumen still somewhat European after all his years here, and quite frankly fascinating.

"The formal supper Saturday night will be what we call a soft opening with the grand opening the next week. Do you have any other events in mind?"

Scarlett nodded. "We're having an Easter egg roll on the lawn Saturday afternoon before the supper for the children, and we can also serve a light tea for them, as that was what Mrs. Merriweather had planned."

"Excellent idea. Always good to plan something for the young ones as well, makes the new business seem like part of the community from the start. It's also beneficial to announce an affiliation or partnership of a local charity or philanthropy at such an event. Do you have one in mind?"

Scarlett opened her mouth, then closed it as she considered her response. Rhett already gave considerable money to several local charities, Confederate veterans and widows and orphans; well, he had up until Bonnie's death, she knew for certain, and he probably still did in Charleston. She thought about her plans for a foundation, the one she'd discussed with India, yet remained a little shy about bringing it up. She also felt slightly embarrassed to tell Leif it wasn't exactly fully funded yet, and, furthermore, didn't even have a name. However, the hotel opening would be such an opportune way to get the word out and get some applications in, get it started on a high note.

She'd spoken with Ennis about waiting until she started another business with Bonnie's funds to provide an endowment after the hotel got up and running well. She had to admit that there was enough money, however, to start helping people now if she really wanted to start. After finding India the much-needed position she found she wanted to help, however strange that might be. She needed to talk to Ennis again and make sure he could do the appropriate paperwork in time, and she just had to come up with a name.

She certainly didn't want it to be known as the Bonnie Butler Fund, or foundation or philanthropy. Didn't want the name 'Butler' in it at all, so as not to immediately connect Rhett or her with it and all the negative connotations that would surely follow, not to mention Rhett himself would doubtlessly have something to say about it, not necessarily positive.

Also, she didn't want it to appear attention-seeking when it was anything but. This was for her daughter, and the motivations were intensely private.

After she considered it further she realized that she didn't want 'Bonnie' in the title at all; hearing that precious nickname so often on other people's lips, in passing, casually, people who may have never even met the extraordinary, beloved child—no. It would be much too raw and personal.

People would figure it out eventually of course, but for the name itself she wanted some distance, a little anonymity, for reasons she felt strongly, although she found them difficult to articulate in her head.

Scarlett chewed on her bottom lip a bit, not catching Leif's eyes lingering on how her perfect teeth cushioned themselves in the plump rosy flesh.

"I will come up with something," she finally allowed, still at a loss for the moment.

She became aware of the exhaustion sinking further in. Scarlett found her head seeking Leif's shoulder and she had to fight against it. That feeling of safety he always inspired, in spite of his possible recognition of her illustrious student. Every man in town knew that woman, at least by sight, and he didn't owe her anything, did he? Still, she didn't want to lose that feeling of acceptance, even appreciation in his presence; she found it nearly overwhelming. Intoxicating, even. Not like she was drunk, but had a very pleasant champagne haze. A beautiful man haze. She stifled a giggle.

Then she realized she was here again, albeit years later, seeking comfort and companionship from another man who helped her with her business in addition to personally transporting her to and from her work, instead of her husband, and she straightened up in her seat.

"You are worn down, you need a break from all this,'' Leif observed and she blushed, realizing he'd noticed her antics in the seat beside him.

"Yes, I was thinking about going to Tara for a few days. We could relax there. My children and my nieces could help dye the hard-boiled eggs for the roll and decorate the cardboard eggs for the children's treats. They adore such activities. And we could all get some peace and rest." She considered a moment. "I could also feel out the local sourcing of game and fish for the restaurant that we've discussed, so it would be getting a little business done."

"You may go if you so desire. For the next few days, I will be conducting staff training. It will be loud and obnoxious and you probably won't get much work done here." He nudged her.

"And if you go you'll be out of my way." He grinned with a sudden flash of Nordic-white teeth. She elbowed him back.

"I'd like to go to Tara," Wade said, and Ella chimed in. "Yes! I want to go! And see Mammy and the baby chicks and kittens they have every spring." Her voice light, bright and happy.

"If I go I will bring you two, yes." Scarlett tugged at Ella's curls. "I always do."

"You are invited as well, Beau," she turned and gave her nephew a smile. "We will have to ask your father."

"I'm sure he'll let me," Beau said, his eyes lit up. He'd always enjoyed visiting Tara.

"Woohoo!" Wade crowed. "Then we won't be having the extra tutoring as well?"

Scarlett considered for a moment. She'd kept the afternoon tutoring lessons in law and Latin for Wade and in French for Ella two days a week after she'd put them both in school so they would stay ahead in these areas, but one week wouldn't hurt, and it would hardly be a proper break if they still had to attend them. Although with no notice it would hardly be fair not to pay for the missed lessons, she thought a tad sourly.

And she'd have to talk to Ashley about conducting Wednesday's reading lessons, but that shouldn't be a problem. He certainly owed her a favor, and she wanted him to evaluate 'Miss Izzy's' learning anomalies as well. He might recognize her—as she had just noted, every man in town knew who she was despite the disguise, after all—apparently including Leif—but Ashley wasn't a gossip and would be discreet, she was sure.

"No," she acquiesced. "I will give the tutors off for the week since you are out of school and we're going to Tara."

Beau and Wade immediately started making plans for the country while Ella chattered on about baby animals for a minute or so before Wade spoke again, a slight frown wrinkling his forehead.

"When will we come back? Beau and I've been invited to Good Friday for supper and board games at the Picard's," he said. Scarlett raised an eyebrow. The Picards were awfully close to the Merriweather's. Hmm. Ella leaned forward.

"Oh, me too, Mother," Ella said. "Nancy Bonnell asked me to come to see her new doll and have a tea party Friday afternoon. And other girls from school will be there."

Scarlett smiled to herself. General Hampton's influence no doubt paying off yet again. Ella needed girlfriends badly. Oh yes, she'd have to get a message to him as well so that he wouldn't come calling this week. Perhaps she could work on his project at Tara. She was always able to see things so clearly there, and she very much wanted to give him a detailed report soon, possibly after the supper Saturday night.

"We may go Tuesday morning and come back on the first train early Friday so you can attend your parties," she allowed. "I will need to be here as well."

"You weren't planning on preparing the courses yourself, were you?" Leif teased, his eyes alight with devilment.

"No, but I need to be here to coordinate." She felt an urge to stick her tongue out at him but managed to refrain.

"Babette, Tate, and I are entirely capable. I've already hired a few staff members and we'll have Dilcey as well, and you will be back Friday morning. Take a break. It's only going to get more hectic."

She had to agree with his logic. The children prattled on about their upcoming trip and the various social events, and Scarlett drifted off to the happy, upbeat sounds, thinking it felt almost like a family, not waking up even when they pulled up to Inman Park.

No one noticed the dark covered carriage parked two houses down. Or the lone occupant who watched very closely when, after Prissy and the children disembarked, Leif carefully picked a sleeping Scarlett up and carried her inside.

OOOOooooOOOOoooo

Monday morning Fanny Welburn and India showed up at the hotel as promised to help with invitations to the 'soft' opening supper. Ashley came along with India to take a look at the hotel now that it was all but finished. Scarlett had almost forgotten she'd asked him to—was it just a few weeks ago? Time passed so quickly with all she had going on, not that she would complain.

He wandered off by himself while the ladies worked, which was just as well. Babette and Ella were preparing to go out the door with the second round of beignets. Why, they'd barely made it down Peachtree before their cart ran out of the first huge batch!

Ella breathlessly recounted how successful the beignets had been, all the working men raving and complimenting while she and Babette plied them with the powdered sugar concoctions. She sweetly offered both ladies a pastry and Scarlett presented a coffee service before they got down to work.

"Bye, Mother," Ella waved merrily, Babette's tinkling laughter trailing behind. They were quite the pair, in matching pinafores with their hair dressed similarly in coiled braids, and 'Hotel Robillard' name tags displayed prominently. Scarlett wished for a moment to go with them. People loved complimentary edibles and it would doubtlessly be fun giving away the beignets, to see reactions and cause surprise and delight.

"We have Mrs. Merriweather's list right here," Fanny pulled a folded paper from her reticule. "Her party was to be a garden party, but you have something else planned?"

"Yes," Scarlett felt sure Fanny would approve. "To incorporate both the afternoon and evening activities, We're having an Easter egg roll for the children. I have most of the items at the store already so it's not really a large undertaking, with a late afternoon tea provided for them. My employees have been putting together a small Easter gift bag for each child to take home, candies, and perhaps a small toy each.

"Then in the early evening the supper, of course. We will be showcasing the very best of the menu. The official grand opening will follow next week."

Without saying it all the ladies knew the members of the Old Guard and their families who couldn't afford such a sumptuous celebration would be absolutely thrilled at this opportunity, so neatly fitting in Mrs. Merriweather's former timeslot.

Scarlett made a mental note to stop by the store on her way home. It will be busy all week with people picking up last-minute Easter decorations and items. The time at Tara would be full. Besides the egg decorating and her 'bookkeeping' project, she and Ella had to finish the art endeavor they'd embarked on just in the last week or so. She wanted it done before the grand opening.

Fanny spoke up. "You do know Mrs. Merriweather will be fit to be tied when she finds out you're giving away pastries."

Scarlett hummed in reply and tried not to grin in a most evil manner. May not have succeeded.

"Well, perhaps I will purchase berry tarts and other tea fare from her bakery for the hotel to make up for it," Scarlett allowed after a moment. Feeling generous, as she was indeed using Mrs. Merriweather's guest list to her own advantage. A business alliance with that woman could only help her social standing.

Gotta keep that old rhinoceros happy, Scarlett thought, lest she spear me with her head horn.

Fanny and India both made approving noises as they worked.

Cutting her eyes at Fanny, India spoke in a conversational tone. "When I informed Mrs. Bonnell that I am going to work, she told me she'd been wanting to set up a haberdashery for some time. She thinks she needs a storefront to make more money and could employ someone to help her, possibly someone we know, to go in half and be partners."

Scarlett nodded, realizing India was talking in code. She had put the word out rather quickly, and Mrs. Bonnell wanted to see about a loan from her foundation, as she had always been an accomplished seamstress. She might need help with a business plan, however, which would be another manner in which Scarlett could give assistance.

She was so deep in thought she didn't notice Ashley had returned until he cleared his throat.

"Well, what do you think?" Scarlett greeted him brightly.

"It's lovely, Scarlett, you've done a wonderful job and the architectural changes without tearing it down are just astounding." Ashley actually managed to sound enthusiastic.

"Yes, I am very lucky to have Mr. Erickson and Mr. Tate."

"I can see that," Ashley said, his lips curved up. "You're absolutely brimming with energy. I envy you." She didn't know quite how to respond, so she nodded.

"Have you seen Beau?"

"He was outside with Wade but I believe now he's pilfering beignets from Dilcey," Scarlett pointed in the direction of the kitchen. Ashley laughed as he headed that way.

As she watched him walk away a frisson of anxiety went up Scarlett's spine. She still felt nervous about leaving, and then a sly idea entered her mind. If she could pay or otherwise convince Fanny to help at the hotel while Leif was hiring and training and Tate finishing up last-minute details, then she wouldn't worry so much about being gone. Fanny did well running a household and the various social activities of her circle. A business would not be so different. And she'd have an excuse to be around Tate, which should make the proposition that much more attractive.

Babette and Ella entered the lobby once again with yet another empty cart. "We are out already," Babette said in her lilting accent. "We ran into a group of construction workers and then one of visitors on the way down to the shop district and Ella entertained them with her knowledge of the city. Hopefully Dilcey has made the third run."

"Are you having fun, Miss Ella?" India asked, and Scarlett's eyes flew to her face in surprise. Has India ever said the word 'fun' before? Did she know what it meant?

She regarded the woman carefully, wearing an old, faded dress as usual. But there was something lighter about her, a spark of life, a lessening of bitterness. About time.

Ella answered in the affirmative as she hurried back to the kitchen with Babette. Just then Wade walked into the lobby from outside where he'd been impatiently pacing up and down the driveway ever since their arrival.

"I finished the arbor drawing last night," Wade said after greeting and submitting to feminine coos and such. "I was just going to add some finishing touches. I wanted to show it to Tate but he's not here yet."

Fanny looked up quickly at the architect's name then back down again, to quite studiously and meticulously continue addressing an invitation's envelope. Which did not go unnoticed by either of the other women present.

Oh, yes. Scarlett would be willing to bet that Fanny would help while she was gone.

She turned toward her son and her face lit up.

"Wade has been working with my architect," she informed the ladies, pride evident in her voice. "He's been making wonderful progress and so Mr. Tate assigned him to complete his own design for a garden arbor."

Not one to let able hands go unoccupied, Scarlett patted the seat beside her.

"Well, sit and talk to us while you add your finishing touches. You can address envelopes if you get through before Tate arrives."

Scarlett had foreseen the arbor to be constructed by Bonnie's favorite flower bed for several reasons. Wade nodded and sat down with his notepad and a handful of colored pencils and began doodling while the women chatted. After a few minutes, Scarlett looked over and saw the arbor he'd sketched, pleasantly surprised at how professional it appeared. How can both my children be such artists, she mused, thinking of the crude pictures she'd drawn at Belle's direction the night before.

She admired the blue-green filigree cast iron construction, not overly elaborate, but well within the general scheme of the property, which would be complemented by the deeper blue-enamel coated wrought iron bench she'd purchased to go underneath—and which she just noticed he'd penciled in his drawing. He'd also added star jasmine vines trailed up the sides and over the arch, and an area of blue and white flowers beside it, interspersed with violets.

While she watched he quickly outlined the back of a dark-haired little girl sitting in the flowers. Scarlett's hands stilled.

Sensing her eyes on him, Wade looked up with such a hurting and pensive expression, one that reminded her sharply of a very small boy, frightened and with an injured finger during a gray day of shell siege, one who at the time she couldn't be bothered to comfort; that she pressed her lips together to keep from crying out in pain and regret; and then, with not a small amount of effort, reached over and squeezed his hand, nodding in silent encouragement.

Perhaps in lieu of a natural leaning toward nurture, Scarlett had always at least somewhat tried to provide succor to her children by sharing her strength; and although few others realized it, Wade, in that inimitable way of a highly perceptive child, and not a little by the grace of God, understood this.

Neither was aware that the rest of the table had grown quiet during their wordless exchange.

Working quickly now, he sketched out bees hovering over the flowers. Scarlett suppressed a watery chuckle. Bonnie had loved the bees once Mammy explained to her their purpose, and she'd sit and watch them for extended periods of time if allowed.

Scarlet became transfixed, her eyes never leaving Wade's hand and the picture as it developed. He finished and wrote 'E.V. B.' with a slight flourish under the girl in the flower patch, in the right-hand lower corner.

Scarlett had to stare at the writing for a minute before the meaning registered. E. V. B. Eugenia Victoria Butler. Her eyes drifted up to the arbor, and the bench, back to the flower patch and the little girl.

E.V.B.

Actual bees were buzzing around the flowers outside the open lobby window even as she studied the depiction. Should be E.V. Bee, she thought somewhat ruefully. Bonnie would sit beside that flower patch even when it was rife with bees, and somehow, never got stung. The child had feared so little.

E.V. Bee.

Evie Bee.

The Evie Bee Foundation for Enterprising Women of Atlanta.

A ponderous load, now a featherweight, lifted from her shoulders and floated away. She breathed deeply in relief, the moment heavy with that emotion, allowing herself to bask in that almost euphoric peace one feels when a problem has been solved in a manner just entirely right, a solution that could not possibly be any more perfect.

Scarlett took a moment to close her eyes.

She had the name. As soon as the invitations were finished she planned to go see Ennis King, before lunch if possible.

OOOOooooOOOOoooo

The highly distinguished George Trenholm, former blockade runner and esteemed secretary of the Confederate Treasury, as well as current elected member of the South Carolina House of Representatives, made his way up the Battery the very same Monday morning with the slight help of a gold-tipped cane in his right hand, tipping his hat at the ladies on their morning strolls with his left. He rapped at the front door to the Butler residence sharply, and upon request, the male servant directed him to the upper veranda overlooking Charleston Harbor. He took the stairs quite efficiently for a man approaching his late sixties and sporting a slight limp.

Rhett Butler, not expecting callers of late, and most certainly not on the second story veranda of his mother's home as he took his morning coffee, startled a bit at the interruption and frowned as he struggled to retain his posture, ram-rod straight as it were. To his consternation, he'd recently found that sitting in such a manner was the most comfortable way to accommodate fractured ribs and not the sign of excessive pride he'd often attributed to his gravely injured spouse.

"Morning Butler!" Trenholm greeted jovially, his clear blue eyes alight, complemented by his silver hair and tanned skin, signifying many, many days spent on the water. "Heard you got in a fistfight with your schooner and lost."

He grinned as he offered Rhett a cigar from the silver case he drew from his vest pocket and took note as Rhett accepted the cigar, but did not light it.

"Haven't seen you in a while, George," Rhett replied, indicating a seat for his visitor and pointedly ignoring the schooner comment. He didn't really mind the ribbing. Rhett considered the senior gentleman a mentor, if not exactly a father figure. With a family pedigree going back to the 1600s, Trenholm remained one of the most influential men in the South. Had his finger in many pies and always seemed to come out on top despite heavy losses during and after the war.

The man couldn't be kept down. When the federal government became suspicious that he might have taken advantage of his position with the Confederate Treasury and seized some of his properties, he managed to acquire more. When one business went bankrupt, as many did during the massively hard Reconstruction period, he reorganized and reopened with a new name a few months later—and prospered with that venture. Lately, he'd been a major player in phosphate mining, and encouraged Rhett to invest, which he did.

The two went way back and dealt frequently with each other. As a blockader, Trenholm commanded sixty ships as compared to Rhett's six to ten. Trenholm's Liverpool bank and European connections had proven quite advantageous when Rhett decided to keep his money overseas during and at the end of the war. Extremely so, actually.

"How are you doing really?" The older man's eyes missed nothing. Shaved, dressed neatly, and immaculately groomed for one so recently injured in the manner he had been, Trenholm still saw that Butler looked a little pale under his tanned, swarthy skin, peaked even, a large bruise and healing wound on his forehead, and then there was his stiff posture. He'd dressed in a loose-fitting white shirt and dungarees, but Trenholm could see the wrappings through the cloth.

"Improving," Rhett allowed. "Dr. Hawthorne put me on reduced activities and proclivities—" he gestured with the unlit cigar to the sideboard that had formerly housed an extensive and expensive whiskey and spirits collection, now displaying merely a decanter of peach brandy and a carafe of elderberry wine. Neither of which Rhett would dream of consuming on his worst day. His mother could have a quite twisted sense of humor at times. "Although I invite you to partake. As I recall peach brandy was your poison of choice upon fleeing Richmond a few years back."

"No, thank you," Trenholm shuddered at the memory of that long train ride after he relieved himself of the treasury office, sure federal officers were hot on his heels. Rhett chuckled in response.

"Regale and indulge me in tales of your recent travels,'' Trenholm leaned forward. "My advanced age and rheumatisms have cut down mightily on my sailing, although looking at you reminds me of the, er, challenges." He returned Rhett's smirk.

Rhett graciously obliged and recounted his most recent experiences, as one raconteur would to another, hitting the high notes and leaving out the parts they both knew too well. How difficult travel could be when one did it for too long, moving from one place to another, a Mexican boll weevil looking for a home.

The fine hotels in the biggest cities were accommodating, but that was only part of the world. The rest could be quite smelly and dirty, fraught with bad food that at best was unappetizing and at worst made a man sicker than hell. Difficult, if not impossible at times to find decent and clean lodging. Hours of boredom in hot or cold conditions. Bedbugs. Lice; and not only the pubic kind. The stench of unwashed bodies on crowded ships and trains. Dusty roads and tedious rides. Longing for a familiar face at times, a familiar bed, and real rest, the kind you get at home. If he had a home.

Women he didn't know, didn't care to know, other than for a few minutes to relieve tension, to feel alive again, in a much sadder and poignant manner than it had been when he was young. Becoming more empty, the older he got. A way of life that isn't living. Oh, he'd always love adventures and new places, would always crave, need to be at sea from time to time, a primordial urge. He'd just grown weary of wandering nonstop.

Much to his chagrin, he'd found himself thinking of his former life from time to time over the past several weeks, starting well before the accident. He'd never admit it to her, but Scarlett ran an incredibly organized and luxuriantly comfortable, if not completely tasteful, home, those horsehair chairs aside. Late at night he sometimes found himself nostalgic for the early days of his marriage, before it disintegrated, before he'd completely lost hope, and before that gigantic pile of bricks and bric-a-brac came to signify nothing but pain.

Trenholm laughed in the right places at the stories, adding his own experiences and embellishments, until the men fell into an easy silence, both staring across the harbor at the briny water that defined their mutual hometown.

"So tell me," Trenholm said, his voice becoming infinitesimally more serious as he removed the cigar from his mouth and studied its burning tip. "When's the last time you've spoken with your wife?"

OOOOooooOOOOoooo

Fun Facts:

'The boll weevil (Anthonomus grandis) is not much to look at – just a grayish, little beetle with an impressively long snout. But this particular beetle, and its hunger for cotton, was powerful enough to forge an unprecedented partnership between farmers, legislators and scientists. And that partnership showed how much can be accomplished when scientists and farmers work together.

What adult boll weevils lack in size they make up for with their larvae's ability to feed on and destroy cotton. Boll weevils entered the U.S. from Mexico in the late 1800s, when they were first spotted in Texas. By the 1920s they had spread through all of the major cotton-producing areas in the country. The scope of the damage was breathtaking, as were the control efforts thrown at this insect: at one time, one-third of the insecticide used in the U.S. was used to combat boll weevils.

In 1903, the chief of the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) testified before Congress that the insect's outbreaks were a "wave of evil," and that afflicted areas in Mexico had abandoned cotton production altogether. Indeed, many scholars agree that the impact was so great on the rural South's cotton-dependent economy that it was one of the causes of the "Great Migration," when African Americans moved en masse to the northern U.S. during the early 1900s.' - North Carolina State University entomology associate professor Dominic Reisig

A/N I know I've probably said it before but—George Trenholm was a ROCK STAR. Google him if you get the chance. Absolutely fascinating man, and said to be Margaret Mitchell's inspiration for Rhett Butler. He was bigger than life, even bigger than Rhett if you can imagine. I have a true 19th-century man-crush goin' on with him. In real life, he was actually a friend of General Wade Hampton's, but in this story, well, time will tell … .

On that note, I'm off to Charleston and Folly Beach myself for my yearly sabbatical! It's bound to be good for the story and I usually write a bit on vacay, so hope to see you all soon :) Didn't look like I was going to get the chapter done there for a minute. I bribed my daughter to clean my house in order to knock this devil out; it was quite a struggle for several reasons, so I do hope you enjoy the ride.

Thank you again for all your support. Your words and opinions truly mean the world to me and inspire me to work harder and do better.