A Lasting Impression

something out.
    He held the object up close, blew against it, eyed it again, then grinned and stuffed it in his pants pocket, and started digging all over again. Claire watched, amused. Whatever he’d found and whatever he continued to search for, it had him spellbound, the little scavenger.
    She saw a door on the back of the mansion and tried it. Locked. She knocked. No answer. She tried a second door. Locked as well. She knocked on it too, but again, nobody answered.
    She turned back to the boy, certain he would know how to get inside. He didn’t hear her approach.
    “Excuse me, but—”
    The boy jumped up to his full height, his eyes wide as saucers. “Lawdy, ma’am, you done scare’t me good.”
    Claire tried not to laugh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
    He started giggling, which tickled her even more, because when he laughed, his ears wiggled. Actually wiggled. She couldn’t keep from laughing now.
    “You the Lady’s new helper, ma’am?”
    “I am. At least for now.” Claire extended her hand. “My name is Claire Laurent.”
    He looked at her hand good and long before giving it a quick shake. “I’m Ezekiel. But I go by Zeke.” His attention drifted upward. “That’s some right pretty hair you got, ma’am. My aunt done told me about it.”
    “Thank you, Zeke. ” She gave a little curtsy. “And who is your aunt?”
    “Aunt Cordina. She runs the kitchen for the Lady.” He gestured toward the mansion. “She and Uncle Eli been with the Lady long ’fore I was born.”
    Cordina? And Eli? “Your Aunt Cordina and Uncle Eli are married?”
    He grinned again. “Yes’um. They ain’t never had no kids, though.” He shrugged his shoulders. “So they do their dotin’ on me and my brothers and sisters.”
    “May I ask you something, Zeke?”
    “Yes’um.”
    “What were you digging for when I walked up?”
    He smiled and reached into his pocket. “I’s lookin’ for bullet shells this mornin’. But I found me a nickel too.” He held up the coin, proud as could be. “I dig around some.” He scuffed the toe of his shoe in the dirt. “I just like findin’ things, I guess.”
    “Well, how would you like to find something for me?”
    “What you lookin’ for, ma’am?”
    “A way back into this house without having to go all the way around front.”
    Those ears of his wriggled, and just as she’d thought, he knew precisely which door was unlocked.
    Zeke led her through the maze of rooms comprising the basement of the home. She’d had no idea how massive the space was from her brief visit to the kitchen, and how much storage it boasted. Shelves of food and supplies lined the plaster walls. Yet she hadn’t seen crops or fields anywhere on her walk. She asked Zeke about it.
    “Yes, ma’am. We got us a farm. Over back behind the fancy flower house.”
    Behind the conservatory, Claire thought, nodding.
    “We grow us all sort of things over there. Watch your head, Miss Laurent. It’s kinda low through here.”
    Claire ducked through a doorway.
    “The Lady, she gots her own plantations too. In Louisiana. They grow cotton, mostly. But I ain’t never seen those places.”
    Mrs. Acklen had cotton plantations in Louisiana? In addition to all of this? The sources of Mrs. Acklen’s wealth were becoming clearer by the minute. She wished she could ask Zeke a few more questions, but he’d led her into the kitchen, where she and Sutton had eaten that morning. The space was bustling with activity, and the aroma of baking bread made her mouth water.
    Women cooking at the stoves and stirring bowls at counters turned and looked. Claire smiled, noting that Cordina wasn’t among them.
    Zeke sidled up to one of the smaller women. “This here’s my mama, Maria. She cooks for the Lady and her family.” He said it proudly, hugging his mother’s waist.
    Claire curtsied, remembering having seen the woman serving dinner. “Maria, it’s nice to meet you. You have a delightful son.”
    “Thank you, Miss Laurent,” Maria said in a soft voice, cradling her son’s head.
    Claire didn’t wonder how Maria already knew her name. News traveled fast at Belmont.
    “And this here”—Zeke pointed, continuing on down the line—“is Rena and Harriet and Ive and MaryAnn. They work down here in the kitchen too, but sometimes upstairs with Mrs. Routh.”
    Claire nodded a greeting.
    “This here’s Amanda. She’s a cook too. And Miss Betsy, over there”—Zeke motioned to an older woman seated