Prologue
A cool, salty breeze blew across the bustling harbor. Constant rattling of carriages, constant clicking of horseshoes on pavement, constant screeching of gulls and sea birds alike, the drowning ocean crashing against the steamboats as they whistled their horns, the street performers attracting crowds with upbeat jazz music. The passionate blanket of sounds in the New Orleans harbor was something Abigail quickly warmed up to again, being able to comfortable flip through the pages of the book she bought this morning. The most pleasant sense to Abigail wasn’t a sound, but the smell of rich tobacco smoke stained in the air; signifying the expensive cigars and expensive outfits waddling stiffly through the street.
It pleased Abigail to have her prediction be proved correct; that there would be many rich potential customers strolling this New Orleans harbor street. She sat there quietly waiting for someone to take interest in the merchandise sprawled across her open caravan. Her dark purple dress fluttered in the gentle wind, the clouds shielded her pale skin from the sun, and the black coils in her hair elegantly accompanied the dark purple rose adorned on her hat of the same color. No one would guess she is not from New Orleans if they were to hear her classy, southern accent.
Abigail always saw it as uncouth to yell and probe to advertise your items, instead she would single people out to make a more tantalizing approach.
And it seems someone has piqued her interest.
