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"This is too much to be a coincidence, Gisselle.
I mean, just look at the two of you," Beau insisted. "There are differences. Her nose is longer and
her lips look thinner and. . . and her ears stick out
more than mine do."
Beau laughed and shook his head.
"Someone sent you here to steal from us, didn't
they? Didn't they?" Gisselle demanded, her fists on
her hips again and her legs spread apart.
"No. I came myself. It was a promise I made to
Grandmere Catherine."
"Who's Grandmere Catherine?" Gisselle asked,
grimacing as if she had swallowed sour milk.
"Someone from Storyville?"
"No, someone from Houma," I said.
"And a Traiteur," Beau added. I could see he
was enjoying Gisselle's discomfort. He enjoyed
teasing her. "Oh, this is just so ridiculous. I do not
intend to miss the best Mardi Gras all because some . .
. Cajun girl who looks a little like me has arrived and
claims to be my twin sister," she snapped.
"Looks a little. ." Beau shook his head. "When I
first saw her, I thought it was you."
"Me? How could you think that. . that," she
said, gesturing at me, "this . . . this person was me?
Look at how she's dressed. Look at her shoes!" "I thought it was your costume," he explained. I
wasn't happy hearing my clothes described as
someone's costume. "Beau, do you think I'd ever put
on something as plain as that, even as a costume?" "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I
asked, assuming an indignant tone myself.
"It looks homemade," Gisselle said after she
