Tante Celine had taken them on the outing to Brighton, promising them long days spent on the beach to assuage their disappointment at being once more separated from their parents. It had been a tearful farewell, though the sadness was tinged with excitement at their promised treat. They were so young that the time would not be real to them, the realization that two months was a long separation. If all went well, it would pass quickly and she would soon be with them again, though Tante Celine was not at all certain she wanted to go to Mexico.

“It is a barbaric country,” she had said with a light shudder and sigh of resignation. “I cannot bear to think of my precious Laura and Franco living there.”

“It is their home, Tante,” Ginny had reminded her gently, and then hugged her. “This is so hard, but I must go with him. I cannot be apart from him again, especially not now, when it has been so long. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ginette, you know I do. Perhaps this is best, that you and your husband have this time of reconciliation alone, with nothing to distract you from each other. And it will not be so very long until you are reunited with the twins, after all, only a few months. I will care well for them.”

Some of the anguish at leaving them behind was diluted by the knowledge that her time with Steve would give them the opportunity to reacquaint themselves with one another. The three-week long voyage from England to New Orleans had been a revelation of sorts, for both of them.

It could not be her imagination that Steve’s wary reserve had altered to a more open acceptance, and the guarded expression in his eyes had faded almost entirely away now.

Yes, she had made the right decision to come with him, and for the first time, had confidence in their futures together. When he held her in his arms, the ghosts between them evaporated as if they had never existed.

Instead of lodging in her father’s house in the quiet section of the American district, Steve had leased a house in the Old Quarter, near the corner of Royal and Hospital Streets. Painted pink with green wooden shutters over windows and doors, the house was small but gracious.

“It’s more private,” he’d said, but Ginny thought that was only part of the reason for his wanting to be away from the scrutiny of his in-laws. Upon their arrival in New Orleans just two days ago, he had left immediately to meet someone, but would not tell her who or even where. Probably some dark place like Maspero’s Exchange, where men could meet without drawing too much attention from unwanted sources.