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"Every time you go out of the house and into society, you make a statement about yourself," she warned, "and that statement reflects on your family.
"I know that living in the bayou you were used to plain clothes, to practical clothes. Being feminine wasn't as important. Some of the Cajun women I've seen who work side by side with their men are barely distinguishable from them. If it weren't for their bosoms--"
"That's not so, Daphne," I said. "Women in the bayou can dress very pretty when they go to the dances and the parties. They may not have rich jewels, but they love beautiful clothes, too, even though they don't have these expensive stores. But they don't need them," I said, my Cajun pride unfurling like a flag. "My grandmere Catherine made many a gorgeous dress and--"
"You've got to stop doing that, Ruby, and especially remember not to do it in front of Gisselle," she snapped. A small flutter of panic stirred in my chest.
"Stop doing what?" "Talking about your grandmere Catherine as if she were some wonderful person," she explained.
"But she was!"
"Not according to what we've told Gisselle and what we are telling our friends and society. As far as everyone is to know, this old lady, Catherine, knew you were kidnapped and sold to her family. It's nice that she had remorse on her deathbed and told you the truth so you could return to your real family, but it would be better if you didn't show how much you loved her," she proclaimed.
"Not show how much I loved Grandmere? But--"
"You would only make us look like fools, especially your father," she said. She smiled. "If you can't say anything bad, don't say anything at all."
I sat back. This was too much of a price to pay, even though I knew Grandmere Catherine would tell me to do it. I bit down on my lower lip to keep from voicing any more protest.
"Lies are not deadly sins, you know," she continued. "Everyone tells little lies, Ruby. I'm sure you've done it before."
Little lies? Is that what she considered this story and all the stories that had to follow as a result? Little lies?
"We all have our illusions, our fantasies," she said, and threw me a quick glance of devilment. "Men, especially, expect it," she added.
What kind of men was she talking about? I wondered. Men who expected their women to lie, to fantasize? Could men be that different in the city world from what they were in the bayou?
"That's why we dress up and make up our faces to please them. Which reminds me, you have nothing for your vanity table," she said, and decided to take me to her cosmetic store next and buy me whatever she decided was appropriate for a teenager. When I explained I had never worn any makeup, even lipstick, she asked the saleswoman to give me a demonstration, finally revealing to someone that I wasn't Gisselle. Daphne abbreviated the story, relating it as if it were nothing extraordinary. Nevertheless, the tale flew through the large store and everyone fluttered about us.
They sat me before a mirror and showed me how to use the rouge, matched up shades of lipstick to my complexion, and taught me how to pluck my eyebrows.
"Gisselle sneaks on eyeliner," Daphne said. "But I don't think that's necessary."
We went through perfumes next, Daphne actually letting me make the final decision this time. I favored one that reminded me of the scent of the fields in the bayou after a summer rain; although I didn't tell Daphne that was the reason. She approved, bought me some talcum powders, some bubble bath, and fragrant shampoo, besides new hairbrushes and combs, bobby pins, ribbons, nail polish, and files. Then she bought a smart, red leather case for me to put all my toiletries in.
After that, she decided we must get my spring and summer coats, a raincoat, and some hats. I had to model a dozen of each in two different stores before she decided which suited me best. I wondered if she put Gisselle through all this every time she took her shopping. She appeared to anticipate my question when she saw me grimace after she had turned down six coats in a row.
"I'm trying to get you things that are similar but yet distinct enough to draw some differences between you and your twin. Of course, it would be nice for you to have some matching outfits, but I don't think Gisselle would approve."
So Gisselle had some say when it came to her own wardrobe, I concluded. How long would it be before I did, too?
I never thought shopping, especially a shopping spree like this in which everything purchased was purchased for me, would be exhausting; but when we left the last department store in which Daphne had bought me dozens of pairs of undergarments, slips, and a few bras, I was happy to hear her say we were finished for now.
"I'll pick up other things for you from time to time when I go shopping for myself," she promised. I looked back at the pile in the rear of the automobile. It was so high and so thick it was impossible to see through the back window. I couldn't imagine what the total cost had been, but I was sure it was an amount that would be staggering to Grandmere Catherine. Daphne caught me shaking my head.
"I hope you're happy with it all," she said.
"Oh, yes," I said. "I feel like . . like a princess.
She raised her eyebrows and looked at me with a small, tight smile.
"Well, you are your daddy's little princess, Ruby. You had better get used to being spoiled. Many men, especially rich Creole men, find it easier and more convenient to buy the love of the women around them, and many Creole women, especially women like me, make it easy for them to do so," she said smugly.
"But it's not really love if someone pays for it, is it?" I asked.
"Of course it is," she replied. "What do you think love is . . . bells ringing, music in the breeze, a handsome, gallant man sweeping you off your feet with poetic promises he can't possibly keep? I thought you Cajuns were more practical minded," she said with that same tight smile. I felt my face turn zed, both from anger and embarrassment. Whenever she had something negative to say, I was a Cajun, but whenever she had something nice to say, I was a Creole blue blood, and she made Cajuns sound like such clods, especially the women.
"Up until now, I bet you've only had poor boyfriends. The most expensive gift they could probably give you was a pound of shrimp. But the boys who will be coming around now will be driving expensive automobiles, wearing expensive clothing, and casually be giving you presents that will make your Cajun eyes bulge," she said, and laughed.
