"With Heart and Soul." - •: A "Heartfelt" Fanfiction :•🥀📻🦌

Chapter 2: Dorothea's

Charlotte stood before the great structure she had been sent to, admiring its simplicity that was so significant. All the buildings in the residential areas had similar structure, and simple design, but that style was so profoundly original in her eyes.

There was more importance in those brightly colored houses and their porches and hanging baskets then any of the cement buildings in Chicago, at least according to Charlotte.

The city had something her own lacked; soul.

Well, at least the buildings did, there was no telling if it was the same for the citizens of New Orleans...

Dorothea's—the name of the building—was indeed a sight to behold, slightly run down compared to what she imagined, but what wasn't nowadays?

There was that charm she had such an adoration for nevertheless, and it seemed highly welcoming. That was good considering that it was in fact an inn.

Charlotte assumed that the owner of the facility was Dorothea herself, she just needed a face to put to the name.

She walked into the building, quiet on the inside but not empty, the room looking like a café on the left side of the parlor. The parlor itself--smelling of spices and burning butter most likely from the lunch rush, as well as a mix of spices associated with fall, giving a warm homely feel to the space--seemed as though it was previously a bar, converted to a café when prohibition was implemented. Her mother would appreciate those actions.

There was a lounge area as soon as you entered, equipped with tables for dining, the café bar, an area in the far right corner where a band could play on a large piano, and an empty floor space for dancing.

The inside had a cozy feel, a bit dim with lots of reds like burgundy, and dark wood trim and golds. Portraits lined the walls, exotic rugs strewn across the lounge floor. It had the same feel as a hole-in-the-wall club or parlor back in Chicago, only it lacked pool tables and cigar smoke.

There was also a massive staircase on the far side of the foyer, undoubtedly leading to the upstairs and guest rooms.

The only form of front desk seemed to be the bar counter; by summoning the courage, Charlotte walked across the room, hoping to be met by someone of authority.

She was greeted by an older woman, not elderly, but older than her own parents it seemed. Her curly hair tied up, skin a much darker shade then the girl of European decent.

It was a conflicting thought, that of race comparison; she truly admired women—and men—like her, seeing as how she had practically been raised by Maria and Horatio who were both African, born in America; it just made the girl question what view the woman might have had of her with her pail skin and blond hair. An image of what she may have been separated from or compared to.

Charlotte shook the thoughts away, there was no difference between them in her eyes, besides the years she had on the girl. There was no undoing what had been done, the actions of her forefathers—though they had an impact on the lineage—had absolutely no contribution to her own.

"Well who might you be, honey?" She brushed her hands off on her pale green apron, brushing a loose curl out of her eyes. "Can I help you in some way?" The woman had a fittingly deep southern accent.

"Yes actually, I'm looking for a place to stay, I can't exactly determine how long though... do you maybe have a room for me to rent an extended period of time...?"

Charlotte chuckled internally, thinking of how easy it was for her to switch on that business persona like tap water.

"Business isn't exactly booming...you may pick whatever room you'd like, suits your fancy."