Page 9 of Keller

"Your cousin? Is Senator Mercer your cousin?"

She laughs. "I'll never get used to him being referred to as that. Yes, Nate Mercer is my cousin. He talked me into coming tonight with him."

"He's a lucky guy. I could give you an unofficial tour of the building if you want. Not trying to be weird, but I actually know my way around here."

"That sounds more fun than talking to potential donors, so I'll take you up on it. This was the old port building? I know it's old, but is that right? It almost seems too fancy for that."

“No, you're correct. This was one of the most important port buildings in the country for most of the nineteenth century.” I stop short of telling her that my family is one of the biggest in the business.

"Cotton, sugar, spices. New Orleans was, and still is in many respects, the gateway to the Gulf. This building controlled who got what back in the day."

Her eyes sharpen, interest replacing the awkward playfulness. "And now it's just for elegant parties?"

"That's one of its functions. They use it for all kinds of things, now. My mother was instrumental in the restoration of this place. She would tell me stories about the smugglers who'd bribe port officials in the basement."

Quinn raises an eyebrow. "Just as I suspected. You're a history buff."

"I wouldn't go that far, but I love knowing what things were before, thinking about how stuff worked before there were so many laws and regulations and guardrails."

The room grows louder around us, more bodies pressing toward the bar and dance floor. Quinn shifts her weight, angling slightly away from the crowd.

"So, how about that tour? I'm intrigued now." Her eyes narrow, playful suspicion written across her face.

"Let's go. The original port office is upstairs. It still has the ledgers from the eighteen hundreds, and a huge floor-to-ceiling window that opens onto the small balcony where the shipping director would wave in big ships like the Queen of England."

"You have access to that?"

"I happen to know how to get in."

She studies me for a long beat, weighing the offer. "Lead the way, mystery man."

I catch West's gaze across the room. He's leaning against a column near the bar, arms crossed, talking to my brother, Rhodes. I nod to him, and he goes back to whatever Rhodes is saying without acknowledging me, but I know he saw me.

I lead Quinn toward the east wall, past the clusters of guests who don't notice us leaving. I open a heavy door and indicate for her to lead, following as the door closes behind us, sealing us in.

The ballroom noise follows for a few yards, then slowly fades as we cross through an archway into a secondary corridor and head up the stairs.

The walls here are exposed brick, older than the polished marble out front. Gas sconces line the passage, casting amber light across mortar that's held for two centuries. The temperature drops a few degrees, and the smell of champagne fades, replaced by aged wood and stone.

"They kept the original support beams." I gesture upward where thick timbers cross overhead. "Everything else got renovated, but these stayed."

I pull off my white gloves and fold them, placing them in my pocket.

Quinn's heels click against the stone floor as she trails her fingers along the brick, feeling the texture. "Do you have any idea how much of the original structure stayed intact?"

"I want to say more than half. The foundation is the same, most of the lower walls, and the façade. They reinforced it in the nineties, updated the electrical and plumbing, slapped up some sheetrock, but for the most part, they just restored it."

"That's rare. I like that."

"The Krewe has a thing about preservation, too." I glance back at her. "Legacy. All that."

We turn left into a narrower hallway. The corridor contracts around us, shoulders nearly brushing now. The music from the ballroom becomes a distant hum, barely audible beneath the sound of our footsteps.

Quinn stops at an arched doorway, peering into what used to be a storage room. It's empty now, except for old shelving built into the walls. "What did they keep here?"

"Textiles mostly. Silk from Lyon. Cotton from Carolina. Anything that needed to stay dry."

"You know a lot about this place."