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“Where does everyone stay?”
“About five thousand people show up over the course of the two weeks. Since we don’t have enough lodging, we have a number of RV sites. More adventurous souls can pitch a tent under the shade trees. A lot of members stay in New Orleans, and we run a shuttle service back and forth.”
“And the Maison Sterling offers discounts during that time?”
“Absolutely not.” He grinned. “We charge full rate if we know we’re going to sell out.”
“Is it true that some of the biggest rock stars have appeared at the opening night’s ceremony?”
“The press does love to speculate.” He parked the golf cart under a tree. “Shall we take a walk along the river?” he asked, assisting her out.
“We’re going to walk?”
“I think you might enjoy it.” He held her hand as they walked up the berm that kept the mighty Mississippi at bay.
“This… Wow.”
He understood. Being so close to water, seeing the vast distance across and its churning tumble toward the Gulf of Mexico was stunning.
“I’ve only ever seen it from the Riverwalk in New Orleans. With a to-go cup of café au lait.”
“After a plateful of beignets?”
“I’m not confessing.” She watched the river for a minute before shaking her head with awe. “It’s so different.”
The Port of New Orleans and the Riverwalk were a big commercial network, with barges, tugs, tankers, cruise ships, even paddlewheel boats that hosted dinner cruises. On this bank, they were alone for miles.
“It feels as if time has stood still,” she said. “I can imagine it looked like this a hundred years ago.”
“No doubt it did.”
For quite a distance, they walked along the top of the bank.
“Do you do this a lot?”
“Stroll? Relax? No.” He was so caught up in life, in responsibilities, that he rarely took time to enjoy the solitude. “That’s unfortunate, I suppose.”
A man in a small fishing boat passed by, and they watched him maneuver around a massive log bobbing along on the surface.
They walked for another ten minutes, mostly in silence, before turning back. Being unable to reach his father preyed on Rafe’s mind, and now, with the unsettling information about Lillibet, something had to be done.
“Everything okay?” Hope asked.
“Sorry. Family concerns.” He sighed. “Celeste discovered that Lillibet may not be who she says she is.”
“What does that mean?”
“Before she applied at his club, she didn’t exist.”
“How can that be?” She scowled.
“That’s the question.”
“I’m so sorry. This can’t be easy.”
He appreciated having someone to discuss private matters with. He kissed her with appreciation. No matter how heavy his burdens, she lightened them. Rafe might not deserve someone as innocent as Hope, but he sure as hell appreciated her.
Hand in hand, they returned to the golf cart.
“Now I’m glad you brought it,” she admitted when he was covering the distance back to the cottage.
“The grounds are vast,” he agreed. For a moment, he considered skipping breakfast and showing her what she meant to him. “Hungry?” he asked.
“Famished.”
In which case, sex would have to wait. After this morning’s meeting, they could spend the afternoon playing together. He’d brought clamps, and he couldn’t wait to see them compressing her perfect little nipples.
They changed clothing, Hope into a short dress, and he selected a shirt and tie with a lightweight blazer.
Once they reached the Grand House, the maître d’ seated them at a table near the window.
After they ordered and had settled back with iced coffee, Rafe regarded her. “You got out of bed last night.”
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You don’t make many moves without me being aware of them. I feel you, Hope. I want to know everything you’re thinking. I considered joining you. But it looked like a party for one.”
“Thank you. I needed some time to”—she paused—“sort through some things.”
