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father I had never known.
I opened my eyes and looked up into his and
saw the tears. His eyes were filled with sorrow and
pain, and it seemed he aged a little as he stared at me
with much regret.
"I'm glad I've finally found you," I said. In an
instant, that sorrow that washed over his beautiful
eyes disappeared and his face beamed.
"You must be very special. I don't know why I
should be this fortunate." He took my hand and led
me out of the living room, talking about some of the
other rooms, the paintings, the artworks as we
approached the winding stairway.
Just as we reached the upstairs landing, a door
was thrust open down right and Gisselle stepped out
with Beau Andreas right beside her.
"What are you doing with her?" she demanded. "Take it easy, Gisselle," our father said. "I'll be
explaining it all to you in a moment."
"You're putting her in the room next to mine?"
she asked, grimacing.
"Yes."
"This is horrible, horrible!" she screamed, and
stepped back into her room before slamming the door. Beau Andreas, who had come out, looked
embarrassed. "I think I'd better be going," he said. "Yes," my father told him.
Beau started away and Gisselle jerked open her
door again.
"Beau Andreas, how dare you leave this house
without me!" she cried.
"But . . ." He looked at my father. "You and
your family have things to discuss, to do and--" "It can wait until morning. It's Mardi Gras,"
