East of Orleans by Renee' Irvin Page A

into the stranger’s eyes.
    “Sir, I appreciate your kindness, however, I neither have the money nor the intent to purchase the hat.”
    He stared at her for a long moment. “Money, my dear, is not a problem; intent,on the other hand, can be changed in an instant.”
    Isabella wondered if she had provoked this man in some way. She smoothed her hair with her hand. His brazenness shocked her. The nerve of him, she thought.
    She wondered if she wore a scarlet letter, if he knew about what had happened to her. Of course not, how could he know? She wanted to tell him what she thought of him, but she held her tongue.
    Jules pushed his broad tanned hand into his trouser pocket and plucked out a roll of money the likes of which Isabella had never seen.
    She thought that he must be from some exotic place like New Orleans . She had heard tales about people from New Orleans , but she had never met one. He looked like a riverboat gambler. Of course, she had never known a riverboat gambler. Tom had told her stories about such men. Maybe he was a riverboat gambler on the Chattahoochee .
    Isabella straightened her back and placed her hands on her hips. She looked up at Jules, narrowed her eyes and leaned forward.
    “Sir, you must not have heard what I said. I have no money to buy that hat.” She then fixed a direct stare on him. “And as for my intent, it is not easily swayed---” She turned and placed the hat back on Miss Scarborough’s millinery stand.
    At that moment, Mrs. Scarborough appeared from the back. She had a cup of hot tea in one hand, a sugar cookie in the other and an amused expression on her face. Mrs. Scarborough ate the last bite of the cookie and pretended that she did not hear their conversation.
    She put down her teacup, and disappeared into the stock room. A moment later, she returned holding a shockingly beautiful scarlet silk hat. It was the most exquisite hat Isabella had ever seen; the rose velvet one paled in comparison.
    Isabella watched as Mrs. Scarborough showed the hat to the stranger.
    “Jules, I apologize that it took so long for the bonnet to arrive. As you know, I had it shipped from Paris , and well, you know sometimes we have no control over these things.”
    Jules smiled and nodded.
    “Box it, Mildred, please. Do not worry about the delay. I’m certain the bonnet will make my…” Jules glanced at Isabella, “niece, very happy.”
    Mrs. Scarborough raised one eyebrow and left to put the hat in the best box she had.
    When she was out of sight, Jules turned to Isabella. “Little lady, I don’t believe we’ve met.”
    Isabella walked past Jules. “No sir, I’m certain we have not.”
    “Where are you from? Can I assume that you’re visiting from Atlanta ?”
    “You can assume anything you want, but that don’t make it so.” Jules stood with his legs apart and a slow grin spread across his face. He liked her bold, sassy attitude.
    “Can I at least ask what your name is, little lady?”
    Isabella’s eyes flashed. “If you will quit calling me little lady, I just might tell you, but I ain’t gonna tell you anything as long as you stand there with your eyes fixed on me like a wolf.”
    Jules laughed. “Okay, it’s a deal. Now tell me your name?”
    “Isabella, Isabella Grace.”
    Jules narrowed his eyes and removed a cigar from the pocket of his vest. “Little lady, that’s about as pretty a name as I ever heard. What is your last name?”
    Isabella stared annoyingly at Jules. “I told you that if you called me little lady one more time, I was not going to answer another one of your questions. And I ain’t!” With that, she ran out of Mrs. Scarborough’s Millinery Shoppe.
    Jules stood at the window and laughed as he watched Isabella hurry down the dirt street. He shook his head. “That’s about as fiery a little gal as I ever seen. Some poor boy is sure gonna need help holding onto her.”

    Isabella ran so hard that she tore the hem of her dress, catching it on the brick