CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The moment I stepped off the Southern Belle onto the platform, I knew I was in a unique and mysterious city. The humid air had a sweet, unusual fragrance unlike anything I ever smelled.
Jazz notes flowed from inside the station where buskers entertained the travelers with a music style unfamiliar to me. It was something more than the blues and ragtime I had been exposed to in Franklin. My body instinctively kept time with the syncopated rhythms.
I noticed Hilda studying me, a broad grin of pleasure lighting her face. "Jazz," she smiled. "It's infectious, eh?"
After I hoisted my duffel over my shoulder, I accompanied Hilda while she gathered her bags. Several porters nodded to Hilda and called her by name.
"You must travel a lot," I observed. She answered only with a s
