All That Glitters

7

The Ties That Bind

Paul looked up from his coffee as I slowly reentered the dining room, One gaze at my face told him I had received bad news.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Daphne . . . fell from her horse and struck her head. She's dead," I reported in a lifeless voice. The news had left me stunned.

"Mon Dieu. Who phoned?"

"Gisselle."

"How is she taking it?"

"From the tone of her voice and the things she said on the phone, not too well, but I think she's more frightened than anything else. I'll have to go to New Orleans," I said.

"Of course. I'll cancel my meetings in Baton Rouge and go with you," he offered.

"No, you don't have to go right away. The funeral isn't until Wednesday. There's no sense in your hanging around that dreary house all day."

"Are you sure?" he asked. I nodded. "All right. I'll meet you there," he said. "What about Pearl?"

"I think it's better for me to leave her here with Mrs. Flemming."

"Okay. Tragic," Paul said, nodding slowly.

"Yes. I can't help thinking how devastated my father would have been had he been alive when this happened to her. He idolized her. I saw that from the first moment I met them."

"Poor Ruby," Paul said, rising to embrace me. "Even after I've built this little Shangri-La away from everyone, sadness still finds its way to our doors."

"There is no such paradise on earth, Paul. You can pretend and ignore just so much, but the dark clouds won't disappear. I think that's something we both better realize," I warned. He nodded.

"When are you leaving?"

"In the morning," I said numbly. Through my mind flitted all kinds of gloomy thoughts.

"I hate to see any sadness in your face, Ruby." He kissed me on the forehead and hugged me to him, pressing his lips to my hair.

"I better go see to my packing," I whispered, and hurried away, my heart feeling as if it had shrunk in my chest and only tapped a tiny beat.

The following morning, after kissing Pearl good-bye and telling Mrs. Flemming I would call often, I went out to my car. Paul had carried out my things and put them in the trunk. He was waiting for me at the car, his face downcast and troubled. Neither of us had slept well the night before. I heard and saw him come to my door several times, but I didn't let him know I was awake. I was afraid that his comforting kisses and embrace would slip into something else again.

"I really hate to let you go by yourself," he said. "I should accompany you."

"And then do what? Hold my hand? Pace back and forth thinking about all the things you could and should be doing? You would just make me nervous," I told him. He smiled.

"Just like you to always think about someone else's feelings, even at a time like this." He kissed me on the cheek and hugged me and I got into my car. "Drive carefully," he said. "I'll call you tonight."

"'Bye." With many trepidations, I headed for New Orleans.

I had the top down and wore a white silk kerchief. How much I had changed, I thought. All of the difficulties and troubles during the last year or so had aged and toughened me in ways I was just beginning to understand. A year ago, driving myself to New Orleans would have been the same as taking myself to the moon. Somewhere along this short but difficult journey I had undergone, I had left the little girl behind. I had a woman's work to do now and I had inherited the grit and the strength and the confidence from Grandmère Catherine to do it.

Despite my fears of it happening, I didn't get lost traveling the streets of New Orleans. When I pulled into the circular drive and saw Daddy's old Rolls-Royce parked by the garage, I gazed at the front door and hesitated. It had been years and years since I had entered this house. I took a deep breath and got out of my car. The new butler came to the door quickly. When he set his eyes on me, he blinked rapidly with confusion at first.

"Oh," he said. "You must be Mademoiselle's twin sister."

"That's right. I'm Ruby."

"My name is Stevens, madame," he said with a slight nod. "I'm sorry for your trouble."

"Thank you, Stevens."

"May I bring in your things?" he offered.

"Thank you," I said. I had expected to see many cars in the driveway when I pulled in and dozens of Daphne's friends gathered to console Gisselle and Bruce, but the house was quiet, empty. "Where is my sister?"

"Mademoiselle is upstairs in her suite," he said, stepping back. I entered the great foyer, and for a moment it was as if I had never left, as if all that had happened since had been a dream. I almost expected to see Daphne come out of the office to smirk a greeting at me and question what I was wearing or where I had been. But there was nothing but silence. All of the lights were either low or unlit. The chandeliers hung like drops of ice. The grand stairway was draped in shadows as if Death itself had traipsed through the house and left his tracks over the carpets and floors.

"I'll be staying in the room adjoining my sister's, Stevens," I told the butler.

"Very good, madame." He hurried out to get my suitcase and I started up the stairs. Before I reached the landing, I heard a peal of laughter coming from Gisselle's open doorway. She was on the telephone. When she turned and saw me standing there, her smile quickly faded and she immediately took on the dark look of a bereaved daughter.

"I can't talk anymore, Pauline. My sister has just arrived and we have to discuss all the funeral arrangements and things. Yes, it's just horrible," she said with a deep sigh. "Thank you for being so understanding. Good-bye." She cradled the receiver slowly and then rose to greet me. "I'm so glad you've come, Ruby," she said, and embraced me, kissing both my cheeks. "It's been terrible, a horrible emotional drain. I don't know what's keeping me standing."

"Hello, Gisselle," I said dryly, and gazed around the room. Her clothes were strewn about and there was a tray of empty dishes from breakfast on a nightstand with an opened movie fan magazine beside it.

"I haven't been able to see anyone or do anything," she immediately complained. "It's all fallen on my head."

"What about Bruce?" I inquired.

"Bruce?" She threw her head back with a thin laugh. "What a wet noodle he turned out to be. And don't I know why, too?" she said, her eyes mean and piercing. "He's lost his meal ticket. All he's been doing is going over legal papers, hoping to find a loophole, but I told him in no uncertain terms to forget it."

"But he was her husband."

"I told you before. In name only, and only as a servant. Daphne locked him out of everything. He's going out of here with little more than he came in with. We'll see to that. Beau has spoken with our attorneys and—"

"Beau?"

"Yes, Beau. He's been the only thing keeping me going. He's been an absolute superman. Right from the start. You don't know how horrible it was. You weren't there," she snapped as though it were my fault I wasn't. "She and Bruce went riding and her horse bucked and threw her. Bruce came running back to the house screaming. Beau and I were still in bed," she inserted with a wry smile. "We both heard Bruce shouting and threw on some clothes. We found her sprawled on the ground, a nasty bruise on her temple. Beau, who's had some medical training, told Bruce not to move her, but to send for an ambulance. He checked her eyes and took her pulse and looked up at me and shook his head. 'It looks bad,' he told me.

"I went back to the house to dress in some warmer clothes. The ambulance arrived and they put her on the stretcher and took her to the hospital, but it was a waste of time. She was dead by the time they arrived.

"Bruce went berserk, blaming himself because he let her talk him into taking the more gentle horse. At least, that was what he claimed. My guess is he never volunteered to ride Fury. He wasn't man enough." She smirked.

"Where is Bruce now?"

"Downstairs in the office, drinking himself into a stupor, I imagine. I told him he could stay until after the funeral."

"You mean he doesn't even have any claim on the house?"

"No. It's all complicated, tied up in what is now our estate. According to Beau, our lawyers think they might be able to accelerate our taking more direct control. That was the word he used . . . 'accelerate.' There is a great deal of money, you know. Remember how stingy Daphne was with us after Daddy had died? Well, she can't be so stingy now, can she?

"Have you noticed how long my hair has grown?" she said, shifting topics without pausing to take a breath. "Beau likes it that way." It was nearly the same length as my own hair.

"How is . . . Beau?"

"Wonderful . . . and happy," she added quickly. "So don't say anything or do anything to ruin things for us or . . . or the world might just find out what a sinner you are," she said, shooting a hostile glance at me.

"How can you make threats at a time like this, Gisselle?" I asked, astounded.

"I'm not making threats. I'm just warning you not to spoil my happiness. You've made your decisions and you're happy with your choices. Good. Now I have a right to be happy, too. And so does Beau."

"I didn't come here to ruin anyone's happiness." "That's nice to hear." She smiled, tilting her head toward the door. "Paul isn't with you?"

"He will be here for the funeral."

"And the baby . . . what's her name?"

"Pearl," I said sharply. I knew she knew her name. "I thought it was better to leave her at home with Mrs. Flemming."

"Good. Then you and I can get right to business."

"Where's . . ."

"Daphne's body? At the funeral home. You don't think I would permit it in the house, do you? Ugh. It was bad enough we had Daddy here afterward. The only thing we'll have here is the wake, and it will be a nice wake, too. I've already called the caterers. Of course, we'll have tons of flowers. People are sending them like crazy, but I'm having them brought right to the funeral home. And I've prepared a list of people to ask."

"What are you talking about? List of people? This isn't supposed to be a party," I said.

"Of course it is," she replied. "It's a party to help us forget the tragedy. Now, don't go around here with a long face and pretend you're devastated. You hated her and she knew it, too. I can't say I cared for her, but I probably have more reason to be sad than you do. She was my stepmother much longer than she was yours."

I stared at her a moment. Maybe Daphne deserved such a daughter. She had certainly sowed the seeds and by example taught Gisselle to be this self-centered. I sighed, anxious now to get the funeral over with and any other arrangements completed and return to Cypress Woods, where life, at least for me, was far less complicated.

Stevens brought my things up to the room.

"Oh, how nice," Gisselle cried when she saw him carrying my suitcase. "We'll be next to each other again. It's times like this that I really appreciate having a sister," she declared, loud enough for Stevens to hear.

"Mrs. Gidot asked me to inform you that she has prepared some lunch, mademoiselle. Do you want it brought up or . . ."

"Oh no. Tell her my sister has arrived and we'll be dining in the dining room, tout de suite," Gisselle replied, and then beamed a smile of pride at me. "I learned quite a bit of French while I was in Paris with Beau," she added.

"Tres bien, mademoiselle," Stevens said, and left.

"What did he say?"

"He said very well. Who's Mrs. Gidot?"

"The Frenchwoman Daphne hired to replace Nina Jackson."

"Where is Nina?"

"How would I know where someone like that is? Really, Ruby. Anyway, I hope you're hungry. Mrs. Gidot is a very good cook and will have something delicious for us to eat, I'm sure."

"I'll just freshen up," I said.

"So will I. I've been crying and dragging myself around so much, I'm sure I look terrible. And Beau will be here in a little while," she added.

My heart started to run away with itself. Just the thought of being face-to-face with Beau again made me tremble. I tried not to let Gisselle see my apprehension.

"Fine," I said, and flashed a smile. Then I hurried out and into the room that had once been so new and wonderful to me, a room in which Beau had first kissed me and in which he had held me and comforted me during Daddy's wake. I smiled when I saw the picture of the little girl and the puppy still on the wall, and then I went to the window and looked out on the tennis courts and the flowers, recalling how I had felt like a princess the first time I had slept here. It had all looked so magical and precious, I could never have imagined the sadness and trouble that loomed above the great house, just waiting to rain down over us all.

I stopped to look into the office before I went to the dining room to join Gisselle for lunch. Just as she had said, Bruce was there thumbing through a stack of papers, an open bottle of bourbon beside them. He wore a jacket and a tie, but the tie was pulled loose. His hair was disheveled and he looked like he hadn't shaved in a week. When he glanced up at me, his first thought was that I was Gisselle, but after he focused, he realized it was I.

"Ruby!" he cried, rising quickly. He bumped into the corner of the desk in his eagerness to embrace me. The stench of whiskey reached me before he did. He hugged me quickly and stepped back. "It's horrible, horrible. I can't believe what's happened."

"Why?" I said sharply. "It happened to my father; it happened to my uncle Jean."

He blinked rapidly and then shook his head.

"Of course, those were terrible tragedies, too, but

Daphne . . . Daphne was at the prime of her life. She was more beautiful than ever. She was . . ."

"I know how wonderful you thought she was, Bruce. I am sorry this has happened. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. There is enough sadness in the world without our contributing to it."

"I knew you would think like that," he said, smiling. "Your sister . . ." He shook his head. "She's gone wild, and with that boyfriend of hers . . . they're conspiring against me. I need your help, Ruby."

"My help? You ask for my help?" I nearly laughed aloud.

"You were always the more reasonable one," he said. "And now that you are very well off yourself, you will understand. Daphne and I had certain arrangements," he continued. "Oh, we never put them in writing as such, but we did. She and I discussed what we would do should something happen to one of us, and we agreed that the other should be granted sole power of attorney. If you will have the estate lawyers draw up the papers . . ."

"For years you and Daphne were the conspirators, Bruce," I said with ice in my voice. "The two of you conspired against my father. You embezzled, you deceived. Only apparently you were partners in crime with a much smarter second half who wrote you out of most of your spoils," I said, gazing at the pile of documents. "I feel sorry for you, but I won't lift a finger to help you," I said. "Take what you've stolen successfully and leave," I advised him. His mouth dropped open.

"But . . . La Ruby, you know I always fancied you, and stuck up for you whenever Daphne was too harsh."

"When?" I snapped. "You never had the courage to oppose her, even when you saw her do mean things to me, to my uncle Jean, even to Gisselle. Don't look to me for favors, Bruce."

His eyes narrowed. "You two won't get away with this. I have lawyers also, you know, high-paid, important lawyers and business associates."

"Frankly, I don't care, Bruce. I'm going to leave those battles up to Gisselle."

He smiled wryly. "She stole your boyfriend, you know."

I felt the heat in my face and knew I had turned crimson. "I'm married, Bruce."

His smile widened. "We'll see who gets the last laugh here," he threatened, and returned to the desk.

I went to the dining room and told Gisselle about my conversation with him. She shrugged.

"I'm leaving all that to Beau and our attorneys," she said. "But I was thinking I would buy out your share of this house and the New Orleans properties. You have so much, why should you care?" she added before I could offer any resistance.

"That's fine with me," I said.

She smiled. "I just knew we would get along fine during this difficult time. We have to do what we can to comfort each other, don't we? What are you going to wear to the funeral? Did you bring something appropriate? I have a closet full of new clothing. You can borrow anything. Just look through my racks and racks of garments. You're a little wider than I am in the hips since you gave birth, but most everything should fit," she said.

"I brought something of my own, thank you," I said. We both turned when Bruce appeared in the doorway. He hugged a bundle of papers in his arms.

"I'm leaving for a while," he said. "Going to the offices of my attorneys."

"Don't think you can destroy any papers, Bruce," Gisselle said. "I know Mother kept copies of everything with Simons and Beauregard, who are now our attorneys."

He spun around angrily and, in doing so, dropped some of his documents. Gisselle laughed as he fumbled and knelt to gather them up. Then, fuming, he pounded his way down the corridor and out the door.

"Good riddance," Gisselle called after him. She smiled at me. "I was thinking of closing the house for a month and traveling. Maybe to London. Aren't these oysters and artichokes delicious? This large pastry shell is called vol-au-vent," she said pedantically.

The food was good, but I wasn't in the mood to enjoy anything. After lunch, Gisselle went to call some friends and I wandered through the house. Little had been changed or added. I sighed deeply and walked on through the house until I came to what was once my studio. Nothing had been taken out of it, but the room had obviously been kept closed. There were layers and layers of dust on everything, and even cobwebs around the windows and in the corners. Paints were dried and brushes hardened. I gazed at some of my aborted drawings and stood by the easel.

The memory of that day with Beau returned, the day he tempted me into drawing him nude. I looked at the sofa and envisioned him there again, that soft, impish smile on his lips and in his eyes. My heart had been pounding the whole time, but somehow, I had managed to get into my art and had drawn a picture so lifelike and realistic that later, when Daphne discovered it, she had no trouble realizing who it was and what had happened.

It was later that day, after I had worked on his picture, that Beau and I first made love. The memory of his kiss, his touch, our passionate embraces, swept over me and even now stole my breath away. Mesmerized by my own recollections, I approached the sofa slowly and gazed at it as if I could see us together again, a replay of those moments of ecstasy, the two of us joining in an act of love so complete, we lost ourselves in each other and pledged a love we thought could never die.

I sat quickly, feeling my legs soften and threaten to give out from under me. For a while I remained there, my eyes closed, my heart thumping against my chest. Then I took a deep breath and turned to gaze out the window at the sprawling oak trees and gardens, recalling how excited I was when I first set out to draw and paint in my own studio.

"Penny for your thoughts," I heard a soft voice say, and turned to see Beau standing in the doorway. His shock of shiny golden hair still fell wildly over his smooth forehead, and his dark complexion still made his blue eyes glimmer that much more. He wore a dark blue blazer and khaki pants with his shirt opened at the collar. His handsome face was so familiar to me: his sensual and perfect mouth, his perfectly straight, Roman nose, and his strong chiseled-looking chin.

I was speechless for a moment, unable to move under the radiance of his warm and attractive smile, which quickly turned into a soft laugh.

"You look like you're gazing at a ghost," he said. He came to me quickly and took my hands, guiding me to my feet. We embraced and then he stepped back and held my hands up to look at me.

"You haven't changed, except to look more beautiful," he said. "Well?" he said. "Say something."

"Hello, Beau."

We laughed and then he gathered himself into a more serious demeanor, pulling his shoulders back and tightening his lips.

"I'm glad I've found you alone. I wanted to explain what happened, why I left so quickly when your pregnancy was discovered," he began.

"I don't demand explanations," I said, turning away.

"It wasn't the act of a southern gentleman . . . to leave the woman he loved in the lurch. I was a coward, short and simple. My parents were overwrought. My mother was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She thought everyone in New Orleans would learn of the scandal and their lives would be ruined. I never saw my father that low.

"Then they met with Daphne and she assured them she would take care of the problem if they would have me sent off immediately. I tried to call you before I left, but I couldn't get through. I was practically led off in shackles. In hours they arranged for the transportation, the air tickets, the school, my Paris apartment.

"I had nothing of my own at the time. I was completely dependent upon my parents. If I had defied them, they would have surely disowned me, and what could I have done for you, for us and a baby?

"I admit, I was afraid. Before I knew what I was doing and what was happening to me, I was over the Atlantic Ocean. My parents forbade me to have anything more to do with you, but I sent you letters in the beginning. Did you receive any?"

"No," I said, shooting a quick glance at him. "I was no longer here, and Daphne wouldn't have made any effort to save them or have them forwarded to me."

"I never ran out on any of my responsibilities before," he said. "Everyone, my parents, Daphne, everyone assured me that things would be all right with you."

I looked at him. "All right?" I almost laughed, remembering.

Pain flashed in his eyes. "What did happen?" he asked softly.

"Daphne sent me to have an abortion in some back-room clinic. Once I set eyes on the place, I realized what I was doing and ran off, back to the bayou."

"Where you gave birth to . . ."

"Pearl. She's a beautiful child, Beau."

"And where you got married?"

"Yes."

He lowered his eyes. "When I heard you had married, I decided to stay on in Europe. The truth was, I didn't want to ever come home again. But," he said with a sigh, "that wasn't realistic. Then Gisselle arrived." He smiled. "She's changed, hasn't she?" he asked, hoping for my agreement. "I think she's finally growing up, maturing. Terrible events like this drag you kicking and screaming out of childhood. She knows she's got to be a responsible person now. She has a fortune to oversee, business interests."

"I understand you've been a great help so far," I said. "I'm doing what I can. Have you seen Bruce?" he asked.

"Yes. Whatever happens to him is only just," I said. "Don't worry. I'll make sure he doesn't get a penny more than he's supposed to get," he promised.

"Money isn't that important to me anymore, eau. Actually, it never was as important to me as it was to Gisselle."

"I know. I saw the write-up on you in the paper. Do you have a studio like this?"

"Yes, but with magnificent views of the canals. It's in the attic of our house," I said.

"It sounds wonderful. Gisselle has kept me up-to-date on everything, and from the way she describes . . . what do you call it, Cypress Woods?" I nodded. "From the way she describes it, it sounds like utopia."

"I was always happier in the bayou, surrounded by natural things. That was all too much a part of me, of who and what I was, for me to ever give them up."

"Even for me?" he asked softly. His eyes shone brilliantly with unused tears.

"Beau . . ."

"It's all right. I'm being unfair. I have no right to ask or demand anything from you. You have a right to despise me for leaving you. Nothing that's happened to me or will happen is undeserved," he said.

"We were both at fault, Beau, and both victims of a cruel fate," I replied softly. We stared into each other's eyes, drawing each other closer.

"Ruby," he whispered. He started to reach for me when Gisselle burst into the studio.

"So here you are," she shrilled. "I should have known you would find her. Stevens told me you had come, and when I couldn't find you in the office or living room, I just asked myself, where would he go?"

"Hi, Gisselle," he said. She lunged at him and kissed him fully on the lips, her eyes opened and turned toward me as she did so. "I missed you this morning," she said after she pulled her mouth from his. "When did you leave?"

Beau blushed. "Early. You knew I had to meet with your attorneys."

"Oh. Right. My brain is like a bowl of scrambled eggs today. Well, you might as well tell us what you discussed and what we have to do," she said. "Let's all go to the office and talk." She took Beau's hand and, very full of herself, smiled at me. "All right, Ruby?"

"Fine," I said, and followed them out.

Back at the office, we listened as Beau reviewed what our attorneys believed. How Daphne had gotten Bruce to sign documents excluding himself from her fortune and ours before he married her was a puzzle, but sign them, he did, and the attorneys felt they were ironclad.

"Whatever legal maneuvering he tries will be an exercise in futility," Beau said. "Now, there is a short time left before you take control of everything, but with the attorneys acting as executors, you will have control immediately."

"Then we can spend whatever we want? Buy whatever we want?" Gisselle asked excitedly.

"Yes."

"No more restrictions! The first thing I want is my own sports car. Daphne wouldn't let me have it," she whined, and then turned to me. "You should go through the house and decide what you want to take back to the swamps with you now. I might just have someone come and auction things off," she threatened. "And there is the question of the ranch, our apartment buildings . . ."

"Gisselle, must we discuss this now?"

"I don't care when we discuss it or if we never discuss it. If you want to, just send your attorney around one day to talk to our estate attorneys, right, Beau?"

He gazed at me. "If that's what she wants," he said.

"Let's leave it at that for now," I said. The emotional weight of returning to the house, reviving memories, and then meeting Beau again was overwhelming. I felt like I could sleep a week. "I'd like to just rest for a while," I said. "I think I'll go up to my room. I've got to call home and check on Pearl, too."

Beau shifted his eyes from me to Gisselle and then down to the documents.

"So go take a rest," she said. "I'm not the least bit tired now. In fact, I want to get out of here for a few hours. I feel like I'm suffocating under all this dreariness. Beau, take me down to Jackson Square for coffee and beignets," she commanded.

"If that's what you want to do," he said.

"I do. Thank you, Beau." She beamed a wide smile of self-satisfaction at me.

Beau looked very reluctant to leave, but he did so. phoned Mrs. Flemming and heard that everything was fine at home. Then I went up to what had once been my own room and lay down on the bed in which I had dreamed often of Beau and myself together, happy. I closed my eyes and in moments, I was asleep.

I woke up to the sound of laughter rising from the base of the stairway and listened.

"Come by in an hour to take us to the wake," I heard Gisselle call out, and then I heard her pound up the stairs. She stopped in my doorway and I sat up, grinding the drowsiness out of my eyes.

"Hi," she said. "We had such a nice time. There was a wonderful breeze at the Riverwalk and we sat and watched the tourists and the artists. You should have come along. Are you well rested? Because we have to go to the funeral parlor for the wake. I'm not having people at the house until after the funeral," she said.

"Yes."

"Then get dressed," she sang. "Beau's coming for us in an hour."

She hurried off and I wondered how even she could be in such a party mood on such a dark occasion. But at the wake she behaved properly, producing tears whenever she wanted them. Despite the role he had played in the little conspiracies against my father, I couldn't help but feel some pity for Bruce, who stood alone in a corner most of the time. Apparently the truth about his relationship with Daphne was no secret, and now that Daphne was gone, everyone understood Bruce had little power and relatively little wealth.

All of Daphne's social friends and many of her business associates stopped by to greet us. Our attorneys were there to introduce them. I sensed that Gisselle was becoming impatient and tired of the somber atmosphere. After an hour or so, she was ready to leave. But Beau was at her side imploring her to stay a little longer. Mourners were still arriving. When she gave in, I realized how strong and good an influence he was on her and smiled to myself.

Periodically I would shift my eyes toward him. He and I would gaze at each other and I would feel my heart start to pitter-patter. I was afraid that someone else would see in my face the warm feelings that still flowed through my body whenever I was close to him or he spoke to me, so I tried to avoid him. But it was like trying to avoid a tall glass of cold water after spending days in the dry desert. I couldn't keep my eyes from shifting in his direction, and every time I heard his voice, I stopped speaking and listening to anyone else. It was still music to my ears, but it was difficult for us to spend any time alone, and the next morning, Paul arrived early to accompany me to the funeral.

I knew we were a great curiosity to many people who had heard about my marriage and new life in the bayou. When Daphne's coffin was slid into the Dumas family vault, my thoughts went to Daddy. In my heart I believed he would have rather been laid to rest beside my real mother. I hoped that spiritually, wherever souls went to spend eternity, they had found each other again, and Daphne . . . would be delivered to another place.

After the funeral most of Gisselle's old friends returned with us to the house. The first hour was quiet, but I saw how heavily Bruce was drinking and how angrily he was muttering to his few friends while he eyed Gisselle and me with a growing fury. I had explained the reason to Paul.

Suddenly Bruce dropped the glass in his hand and it shattered on the floor. The crowd of mourners stopped talking. He smiled and wobbled forward.

"What are you all looking at?" he demanded. "You don't have to whisper behind my back anymore. I know what you're thinking. I served my purpose and now I'm to be discarded, is that it?"

"Bruce," I said, stepping forward. "This isn't the time."

"No, La Ruby, this isn't the time. But if you and your sister have your way, there'll never be the time, will there? Well, all right. Enjoy what you've got now, because you won't have it forever. I've got my rights. I know I do, no matter what your high-paid attorneys say," he assured us. Everyone was speechless. Then he smiled and bowed.

"I will take my leave of this fine, upper-class gathering, for I have been informed that I am persona non grata. In short, my presence is no longer appreciated. Not that it ever was. So be it," he said, "for now." He pivoted so sharply, he almost toppled, and then started for the door, followed by two of his associates who took his arms quickly.

The chatter started again. I looked at Gisselle.

"Good riddance to him," she flared, her face red and very angry. "I don't know what he's complaining about. He got more than he deserves anyway. Beau," she suddenly cried weakly. He rushed to her side. "Wasn't that just awful?"

"Yes," he said. "He's just drunk."

"This on top of everything else. I can't stand a moment more. Please, Beau. Help me to my room," she pleaded, and he guided her out, her head on his shoulder as she muttered her apologizes to the people who had stopped by. After that, people began to leave.

"I want to go home tonight, Paul," I declared suddenly.

"Really? But I thought . . ."

"I don't care about any financial arrangements, anything. I just want to go home."

He nodded. He had flown into New Orleans from Baton Rouge, so we would drive back in my car. I went up to my room to pack my suitcase. While I was doing so, I heard a gentle knock on the partially opened door.

"Yes?"

Beau stepped in. "You're going home tonight?"

"Yes, Beau. I can't stay here any longer. It's the longest I've been away from Pearl," I added.

"I'm sorry that I haven't asked you more about her. I just felt . . . like I had no right to ask," he said.

"She is your daughter," I reminded him.

He nodded. "I know. Paul seems to have accepted everything completely. I mean, from the short conversations we've been able to have, I think so."

"He loves Pearl, yes."

"And he loves you," Beau said.

I looked down at my suitcase without replying for a moment. "Gisselle tries to be different when she's with you. I can see that," I said. "Maybe you are good for her."

"Ruby," he said, coming closer. "The only reason I started with her again was that when I looked at her, I could pretend, imagine, I was looking at you. I have this dream that I can make her into you, but it's a foolish dream. There can't be another you and I can't stand the thought that I've lost you and the life we might have had together."

Tears came to my eyes, but I didn't turn around so he could see them. I swallowed down the throat lump and completed my packing, only muttering, "Don't, Beau. Please."

"I can't help it, Ruby. I'll never stop loving you, and if it means I have to live forever with an illusion, then that's what do."

"Beau, illusions die quickly and leave us far worse off than if we had faced reality," I warned.

"I can't face a reality without you, Ruby. I know that now."

We heard footsteps on the stairway. I snapped my suitcase closed just as Paul came to the door.

"The car's ready," he said, looking suspiciously from Beau to me.

"Good. Good-bye, Beau. You must try to come to the bayou soon."

"Yes, I will."

"I'll just say good-bye to Gisselle, Paul."

"Fine," he said, and took my suitcase.

"I'll go down with you, Paul," Beau said. As the two of them headed for the stairway, I went to Gisselle's room. She was lying on the bed with a damp washcloth over her forehead.

"I'm leaving now, Gisselle," I said.

Her eyes fluttered open as if she weren't sure she had heard a real voice. "What? Is that you, Ruby?"

"Yes. I'm leaving for Cypress Woods tonight."

"Why?" she asked sitting up, suddenly rejuvenated. "We'll have a big breakfast tomorrow and maybe the four of us will do something that's fun for a change."

"I've got to get back to Pearl, and Paul has a lot of business to tend to," I said.

"Oh, pooh on all that. You just want to run away from all this sadness and ugliness with Bruce," she accused.

"Yes, that, too," I admitted.

Her expression softened and then her lips quivered. "What will become of me?" she cried.

"You have Beau now," I said. "You will do just fine."

"Yes," she said, pulling her face into a full, gleeful smile. "I guess I will."

I turned and hurried away, my heart pounding. How she enjoyed reminding me I had lost Beau again.