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"This way," Beau said. He directed me through
the entryway, past one beautiful room after another,
each filled with antiques and expensive French
furniture and paintings. It looked more like a museum
to me than a home.
The kitchen was as large as I expected it would
be with long counters and tables, big sinks, and walls
of cabinets. Everything gleamed. It looked so
immaculate, even the older appliances appeared
brand-new. Wrapping leftovers in cellophane was a
short, plump black woman in a brown cotton dress
with a full white apron. She had her back to us. The strands of her ebony hair were pulled tightly into a thick bun behind her head, but she wore a white kerchief, too. As she worked, she hummed. Beau Andreas knocked on the doorjamb and she spun
around quickly.
"I didn't want to frighten you, Nina," he said. "That'll be the day when you can frighten Nina
Jackson, Monsieur Andreas," she said, nodding. She
had small dark eyes set close to her nose. Her mouth
was small and almost lost in her plump cheeks and
above her round jaw, but she had beautifully soft skin
that glowed under the kitchen fixtures. Ivory earrings
shaped like seashells clung to her small lobes. "Mademoiselle, you changed again?" she asked
incredulously.
Beau laughed. "This isn't Gisselle," he said. Nina tilted her head.
"Go on with you, monsieur. That t'aint enough
of a disguise to fool Nina Jackson."
"No, I'm serious, Nina. This isn't Gisselle,"
Beau insisted. "Her name is Ruby. Look closely," he
told her. "If anyone could tell the difference, it would
be you. You practically brought up Gisselle," he said. She smirked, wiped her hands on her apron, and
crossed the kitchen to get closer. I saw she wore a
small pouch around her neck on a black shoestring. For a moment she stared into my face. Her black eyes narrowed, burned into mine, and then widened. She stepped back and seized the small pouch between her right thumb and forefinger so she could hold it out
