A Stitch in Time

By Evan Fleming

A Stitch in Time depicts the adventures of a titled family through four generations beginning in European aristocracy. Readers will be intrigued by the saga of the son of France's King Louis XIV who narrowly avoided death and made his way to America. The escapes from assassins, the pirates, the sword duels, and the tales of ancient powers fill this series with excitement. Throughout the stories, the characters enjoy the benefits of acquiring extreme wealth, discovering the mysteries from their pasts, and using their special skills to confront the challenges they face. With an imaginative perspective, the author offers his readers the chance to delve into European and American history.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781644622643

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Baron’s Return

Leaning back in his chair with the quiet drone of the engines felt, rather than heard, he mused on the past year. The Baron had been appointed an ambassador-at-large by Roosevelt six years previously with the concession the Baron would always use his own plane and pilot and only be reimbursed for fuel. Comfortable with his childhood friend Henri flying as pilot, he thought of his wife. He yearned to hold her and was glad the Countess had come to America eleven years ago, leaving her family. Even doing what he could to convince any members of the small family to leave before the war, he had been unsuccessful, and now Grace was the only one of her line.

His mind wandered over all he had done, and now drifted to what he had left undone. Grace was all he had ever dreamed of, and he was still amazed she had agreed to spend her life with him. On arriving home, there was much he had to tell her of his family. Initially, he had wanted to wait until they had a child, feeling the ties would be stronger. Her love had been unwavering even with her family urging them to move to her estate in Europe. He had worried needlessly that she would miss the balls and social circles. Grace had always been a tomboy, flying the larger peregrines while her friends preferred the smaller and lighter tercels.

They met at a prehunt party where he had gone to finalize a business deal. He overheard her brag she could bag more game than any man in the room, as she noticed his admiring gaze. Meeting his gaze had led to a bet he often thought of as the luckiest in his life. He had shown up for the hunt the following week with two silver-gray falcons, which were seldom seen so far inland. She had flown her two peregrines the day of the hunt, coming in second with her three ducks, two pheasants, and one red goose. The winner had been the Baron with three ducks, four pheasants, and four black grouse. Upon losing the bet, she had to visit the Baron in America for a week, which became three then four. They returned to Europe six weeks later and married within the month. He had never regretted a moment.

He had just finished the outlines of a treaty when the telegram from Charly had come. His nephew Rex, who was released from the service early to care for his ailing wife and daughter, had never arrived home. Grace should have been told of the family ties, but all the secrets weren’t his to tell, and the roles everyone maintained were second nature to him. The Baron had wanted to be home to find out more surrounding the death of his other nephew, Ren Purdee, as he was called, but got the telegram regarding the death two months after the fact. That had been a year and a half ago at least. His nephew, Ren, had written to the Baron telling him of meeting Parilee Wyckett of the New Hampshire Wyckett’s at school. Her father had insisted their family move back to New Hampshire on the death of her grandmother, who owned a large coffee business and insisted her mom sell it. He was a social climber and wanted to leave the heat and the Cajuns. Cajuns were frowned on in his father’s social circles, and they moved so he could join his father in the shipping business. Parilee had loved her grandmother and Louisiana and stayed to finish college, meeting Ren. The last letter he had from Ren had been to tell him Ren thought Parilee would fit into their family and he was hoping to surprise her with an introduction to the Baron and the rest of their family.

Now he was flying almost five thousand miles and would be in the air twenty-four hours and had no heir. His sister and her husband, Jean Dupree, had died in a plane crash in the 1920s, and the Baron had raised his two nephews who now were missing or dead, and only Nayla had a daughter with his missing nephew, Rex. He had spent his life buying and establishing businesses in America and Europe and was worth seven or eight hundred million. If anything happened to him, his father’s work and, especially, his grandfather’s legacy would never be known.

Relaxing in his chair, he tried to sleep, but figures, money, and family history kept circling in his mind. Nayla had almost twenty thousand acres, his nephew Ren the same, and the Baron over thirty thousand acres in East Texas and fifty thousand in West Texas. His sister’s husband, Jean, had bought an additional five thousand acres in two parcels of adjoining land, the east-west highway adjoining the southern boundaries of their land in 1914 and 1917 on the birth of each son. Jean was as paranoid about privacy as the Baron himself and, for ten years, had bought all oil and gas leases surrounding the land in Southern Louisiana. Many farmers used the General Store located on the highway fronting the north side of the five thousand acres and felt the mineral rights to their property were worthless. Actually, the Baron smiled in memory. Jean felt the same but acquired them to be sure no one would demand access if they ever built any gas pipelines. Jean helped many of the farmers before his death by giving them credit at the store in exchange for their mineral rights. The Baron was his nephew’s guardian, and he continued this practice though the Great Depression to present times.

With the war, the land titles were held in several trusts, and only Nayla and he knew how the pieces should go back together. His father had been born when his grandfather had turned fifty, in 1835, and he also was born when his father was fifty, in 1885. He felt much younger but was becoming frightened by the smallness of what was left of his family and his age. He made a firm decision to talk with Nayla first and then tell his wife, Grace, everything. There was too much at stake now if anything were to happen to both him and Nayla.

Chapter 2

The Trouble with Pickett

When Parilee met Ren Purdee, he was a dashing young man with jet-black hair, an adventurous sense of humor, a leader in the college debate club, and just finishing law school. After a brief whirlwind romance, they decided to marry, and with no one from Parilee’s family coming to a wedding, they eloped.

Her family, mainly her dad, told her if she married a Cajun, she would no longer be a part of the family. Following her heart, she had not relented, only hoping her mom and brother would call or write. She was deeply hurt when they didn’t. Parilee worked hard and graduated a semester behind Purdee. She was glad tuition had already been paid, and Ren had worked to cover their apartment off campus and living expenses. Ren had told her he wanted to work in banking for awhile to get experience as he thought he might want to go into estate planning. They moved to a town near where he had grown up to take a job at a bank owned by a man named Pickett.

Pickett owned a sawmill, the bank, and was mayor of the town at the time they moved there. Ren was quite good at his work, and they were very happy. They hoped to have a large family, and then suddenly Ren started working longer and longer hours. Parilee thought initially it was normal starting a new job in order to move up. When he became more and more distant, she questioned him and was told he might have to quit as he had found things that might technically be legal in the bank practice but not moral. One day he came home and said he thought he was on to something and if he could find proof, it would bring Pickett down. Next week he was accused of embezzling, and the week after, he was fatally shot in Pickett’s home, supposedly for breaking into his safe.

Parilee took a job at the bank hoping to find what he was looking for. She was a month pregnant when her husband died. She wished he had known he was to be a father. After Amelia was born, Pickett started making advances and tried to talk her into coming into his home and being his housekeeper. He became more and more abusive and she stayed only because of Amelia and having no family support.

One day Charly, the Baron’s overseer of Swamp Home, as Dupree’s old home came to be called, was waiting to talk to him as he came out on the porch with his wife, Grace, whom he affectionately called Cherie. They normally came to the porch in the evening to watch the butterflies and hummingbirds in the cool of evening as they traveled from Rose of Sharon’s to Mimosas and to the other flowers under the huge oak and cypress trees.

Boss Man, Charly called out to get the Baron’s attention.

The Baron immediately called Charly to join them on the porch.

Thanks, Boss Man—Madame. Charly had come with the place. No one outside of Swamp Home knew of any last name. He was dark skinned with Oriental eyes, and he spoke at least three languages. Charly always knew what went on in the swamps and was the best land manager you could find. He was responsible for the orchards and vegetable plantings and for the main house as the farm was run to be independent of the outside world, like many of the homes were in the 1800s. Charly was simply family.

Cherie said, Charly, I really wish you would just call us by our first names—Tony and Cherie.

He replied, Madame, that just wouldn’t be right. It would be considered disrespectful. Not by you, but by those you be around. I don’t call you by last names because over at Swamp Home, you are known as Fredericks, and at the government house, Baron and Grace Rothschild. Now, that’s just too much for a simple old man like me. He practiced dialects so he could blend in when he went into towns, but Cherie was thinking that he liked to tease her husband.

Cherie laughed and said, You scoundrel. You are not a ‘simple old man.’ But have your way with what makes you comfortable. Now what brings you back here calling for Boss Man?

The Baron smiled and said, Go ahead—you know we have no secrets.

Charly thought a minute and said, You know the Larue boys from town? Oldest is ’bout fourteen, and there are three younger ones down to age four.

Cherie questioned, Are those the ones whose mother is the maid for several of the families in town?

Charly replied, Yes, and takes in sewing as well. She’s proud, and she keeps those boys clean and won’t take any kind of handout. Their father was killed on a shrimp boat three years ago, and it’s been hard for her.

The Baron said, OK, what do you have in mind?

Charly said, I’m afraid those boys are about to get in trouble with Pickett at the bank, and you know he runs the town—the law included.

Tell me about it., said the Baron.

Charly said, Well, you know that young widow that works for the bank whose husband was shot by Pickett in his house last year?

The Baron said, Yes. I had been talking to her husband about working for me, but he said he had something to resolve first—called it a matter of conscience but wouldn’t say anything more.

Charly said, Yes, well—talk is that Pickett treats her like a girl from south of the tracks and she can’t quit ’cause her family cast her out because of a Cajun marriage and with a year-old baby and his control of the town.

The Baron said, "What has that to do with the Larue Boys?

Cherie said, I’ll bet I know. I heard from our cook Lettie that she is really nice as a person and always has time to talk to kids. She has helped some of the kids with schoolwork and shares whatever she has. Those Larues probably are some she’s helped and heard talk, and plan on ‘talking’ to Mr. Pickett if they can catch him by himself.

Charly just looked at her for a few seconds and spoke to the Baron, Boss man, I sometimes forget that nothing gets past y’all—if one doesn’t know, the other does. I shouldn’t be surprised—don’t know of anything you can do but sure would hate to see those boys come to harm for trying to do right.

The Baron and Cherie looked at each other and nodded to him slightly.

The Baron said, Thanks, Charly. I’ve been meaning to go to town to see that new tourist candy and souvenir shop, and then I’ll go by the bank while I’m there. I’d like you to get Sam and Alfred to bring the truck with a load of watermelons from that patch back of the old hanging tree to farmer’s co-op about ten o’clock. After you unload, give four or five to the boys on the dock, and y’all stay until you hear from me. Have our boys join ’em so as to look natural, and check with me before you leave.

Charly said, I didn’t know the co-op was expecting us.

Baron said, They will be. I’ll call Mr. Jeffries this evening.

After he stopped at the new candy and souvenir store, where he bought bags of their fudge, the Baron went to the bank. Any new business in town he always visited and would buy their products, which he gave away. When asked by Cherie once why he did it, he said, The new owners remember me favorably, and by giving away to people, if the product is any good, it helps their business, and it is good for the town and the community. Besides, we can afford it, and it makes me feel good. The Baron, or Mr. Frederick, as he was known here, made several stops at stores where he left a few boxes of fudge and walked into the bank with six boxes left.

He had just given a couple of boxes to the first two tellers and Parilee when Pickett stormed up from the back. What are you doing in my bank? We don’t do any business with swamp rats.

Just dropping off samples of fudge from Stacy’s new shop to some of the businesses. Would you like a box?

Pickett turned bright red and walked back toward his office. As he passed Parilee’s desk, he said loudly, Throw your box in the trash as you are getting too fat to work here! Parilee, a demure size three, said, I won’t eat it. I’m going to give it to some of the children who come by.

Pickett didn’t like kids at the house he rented to her as a bank repo. He had tried to come by and visit with her and been rebuffed, but could do nothing about it with six kids there. He reached across the desk, snatched the box away from her, and crunched it. Then he threw it in the trash. There. Don’t ever talk back, or you won’t work here or anywhere else in town.

Parilee was in tears as Mr. Frederick had walked up behind Pickett and said quietly, Mrs. Purdee, how much is Mr. Pickett paying you?

She looked up and said, Not nearly enough to put up with this, but I have a baby.

How much? he repeated quietly.

One hundred sixty dollars a week, she said.

Are you good with numbers? Mr. Frederick asked as Pickett was getting madder and madder and shouting at her to quit talking to him.

She answered quietly, as if Pickett wasn’t talking. I’m very good, she said, looking questioningly at him.

Will you come to work for me for two hundred fifty dollars a week? he asked.

Just for my numbers? she asked.

Yes, Mr. Frederick said.

Pickett was yelling, You can’t leave, or I’ll kick you out of that house you’re in! You’ll never work around here again.

Parilee looked at him, said, I quit! slapped him, and walked out.

Mr. Frederick caught up with her outside the bank.

Are you okay? he asked.

I’m better now than I have been in the last year. If you’ll tell me when I can start and where I’ll be working, I’m ready. I will have to find a place to stay and move immediately as I suspect I won’t have a home tonight.

Mrs. Purdee, I knew your husband and thought he was a fine man. I live outside town with my wife, and if you are willing, I have men in town dropping a load of watermelons at the farmers co-op who can come to your home and help you pack. My wife can find room for you and your daughter. Your belongings will be packed, and we will talk about your job.

Parilee replied, I have heard in town that you and your wife live in the swamp and are called swamp rats. Some people in town say you are a fine man. Most don’t know much about you. You have offered help, and I thank you, but I want to know why. Are you a farmer? And what does a farmer need with someone who is good with numbers? I need to know what I am getting myself and my baby into.

Mr. Frederick said, Fair enough. Yes, I farm. Yes, I’m a businessman as well, and I really do need someone I can trust who is a number person and completely loyal. I am doing nothing illegal. What do I need to do to make you comfortable?

After thinking a minute, Parilee said, I’ve learned to trust my own instincts, and better yet, the instincts of children, and strangely enough, the children in town think you are a good man. So have your men meet me at my home, 122 Adelaide Street. I’ll go get Amelia—she’s with a woman with whom I swap bookkeeping for child care. I do her husband’s books, and she keeps Amelia as she’s a stay-at-home mom. Thirty minutes, OK?

Tony called Charly on his small walkie-talkie. Charly said he would meet her in thirty minutes as he knew where the home was. When Parilee heard Frederick call Charly, she asked if that was the same Charly who walked Larue’s kids home at night. After checking with Charly over the walkie-talkie, he told her it was, and Parilee said she felt fine. Everyone knew Charly, so she wasn’t worried anymore since he worked for Mr. Frederick.

Tony called Cherie and explained events and was told all would be ready when he got home. He told her he would come by boat. He did some errands in town and headed over to the house after Charly called. They would finish up in twenty minutes. As he drove up in an old pickup, they were loading the last of the stuff on trucks just as Pickett showed up with men in trucks who were going to evict her.

What’s going on here? he shouted.

Parilee smiled and said, I’m moving, and you won’t see any more of me.

You can’t do that! Pickett shouted. I’ve come to take your stuff, and you owe me a week’s rent!

And you owe me a week’s pay, Parilee said. I’d say we are even!

Pickett stuttered and said, OK, leave, but you’ll be sorry. Look at your ride. I’m surprised that old truck still runs! You could still come back to my home and run the house. You don’t want to go with him into the swamps and live in dirt and squalor.

I’d rather go with a gentleman than stay here with you any day, even if I’m on dirt floors. Goodbye to you, Mr. Pickett.

She turned and, with Amelia, came to the front of the truck while Mr. Frederick hurriedly got out and opened the side door in the old Ford 150. She climbed in with Amelia, and Mr. Frederick closed the door and left the engine running, saying, I’ll be right back. I need to talk to Charly a moment.

Pickett looked at Mr. Frederick and said, I’ll get you. I’ll get you for stealing from me.

Mr. Frederick said, I stole nothing—all you had to do was treat your employees as people with respect, and you would earn their loyalty.

I don’t need to earn anything, said Pickett. I can buy what I need.

Parilee heard everything and saw Mr. Frederick talk to Charly a moment more and then come back to the truck. Mr. Frederick said, I’ve called my wife, Cherie, and all will be ready when we get home. Hey, why are you crying?

My husband always called me Cherie, she said. It was his pet name for me. I know now I’ve made the right decision, and I don’t care if we live on dirt floors. I’m ready to be a swamp rat too!

Tony smiled as he started the truck and said, We do live simply, but I think we can make you comfortable. After a quarter of a mile, they pulled up in front of the supermarket.

Why are we stopping? Parilee asked.

My wife told me to. She said we’d need diapers and any special food for Amelia.

Parilee started to cry again. I don’t have much money.

Tony shrugged and said, We’ll cover this part of relocation expense, which is an employer’s responsibility, not yours. Now let’s go in and get all you might need. There are no stores near the home place, and we grow most of what we need, so we need all foods, cosmetics, and anything else you might need for at least the next three or four weeks. Don’t worry about money—moving expense that you don’t have to pay back—no obligation—if the store doesn’t have all that you need, we can stop at the new Piggly Wiggly on the way. They’re located just before we have to get on the dirt road. Hope you don’t need anything that has to be kept cold—think about it, and if you do, I’ll call Charly, as I think he may have a couple of ice chests. And quit crying—you’ll forget stuff you need.

Parilee took a deep breath, smiled, and said, No one, since my husband, has been so kind to me. I don’t know what to say.

I take care of all my employees, Tony said, and you can show your gratitude by not trying to just get by on the minimum. Money is not a problem, so make me happy, and get all you need. I will feel badly if you don’t have things you both need through some misguided sense of being frugal. If you’re willing to live as swamp rats in an old house, you can at least have some conveniences. Please don’t make me feel badly.

Parilee started crying again, and then asked Mr. Frederick to hold Amelia who slept through it all while she went in and shopped. Tony promptly got his wallet out and gave her $300 with a reminder that if that’s not enough come back and I’ll give you more.

Parilee smiled. This will be more than enough, I think, and thanks, thank you very much Mr. Frederick. You have rescued me from a very bad situation and I’ll always be grateful.

Get inside and get shopping then, he said smiling. Parilee came back with the shopping cart after about twenty minutes and walked to the driver’s side window, which Tony rolled down.

Is Amelia still sleeping?

Like a baby. I can’t believe she’s so quiet. Is she OK?

She was up the whole time we packed this afternoon and I fed her just before we left and I know she can be quite noisy at times. Oh, I hope that won’t be a problem for you and your wife.

No—we’ve been thinking of having one ourselves, he said.

Don’t you have children—I thought maybe grown ones?

My wife is thirty-four and I am fifty and this is the only marriage for each of us. We’ve been married for ten years and in the past my work has kept me moving but that is about to end now so we are hopeful. Don’t be bashful about questions—I rate them as a sign of intelligence. Remember your first lesson is just to learn to ask the right questions and never make assumptions.

A farmer or swamp rat that is on the move a lot. Are you sure that your activities are all legal?

Tony smiled. Yes, they are. At least for this country.

Parilee frowned, and then said, I think I’ll wait on more questions until I’ve met Mrs. Frederick. Then after I see what my duties are to be, I hope I’ll have better questions.

Tony smiled and said, I hope so too, and if all works out you’re sure to be with us a long time. Parilee sat quietly holding Amelia until they were on a dirt road which had some potholes after the last rain. After hitting a large one Amelia woke up, made few baby noises and then Parilee quietly began looking at the road through the headlights. They saw lots of bugs, a few deer they had to slow down for, and even a fox. After about one mile, Parilee said, I hope I have better questions. Are we getting close and will the truck be able to find a way over the road with my stuff, okay?

Tony grinned and said, I wondered how long you would keep from asking me. I won’t tease you. We are taking a short cut. We have about a half mile to go to get to the bayou. The truck with Charly will go by highway. It’s about thirty-five miles the way he’ll go.

What happens when we get to the bayou? she asked.

We’ll get on an airboat and be home in ten minutes. There is a small house where I keep a boat with a caretaker and his wife who live there. Many of the townspeople think we live there and I let them believe it for various reasons.

So you leave your truck there? Oh, I guess the caretaker watches it.

Yes, said Tony. Actually I gave it to him and just use it when I go to town this way.

I saw we were on Swampland Corp land by the signs as we came through the gate at the highway. Do you have an easement to your boat?

Not needed, he said. We’ve been on my land since we left the highway. Swampland Corp is one of my holdings. The land the Piggly Wiggly is on I sold them as I thought we needed extra jobs in the community and some people don’t like to shop at Pickett’s store in town. Parilee was quiet as they came to a small house on the side of the bayou. It looked like they were expected as the outside was well lit with vapor lights and the house lights were on.

Francis, called out Tony, as a short slim man came out of the house. Good to see you. Is the boat ready?

Oui, he grunted in French.

I’ll pull up next to the dock. We’ve got passengers for the trip with some supplies in the back of the truck. They made short work of unloading the truck, leaving Parilee and Amelia in the truck with the windows down while they unloaded the truck and transferred everything to the airboat. Francis got Parilee buckled up with a seatbelt and holding Amelia. Tony sat in front with a bright light to sight the banks. They drove slowly as it was