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Good. Merry Christmas, Ruby, and may you have the healthiest and happiest new year of your life."
"You too, Louis." I kissed him on the cheek again.
That night, when I walked back to the dorm, I felt lightheaded. It was as though I had drunk two bottles of Grandmere Catherine's blackberry wine. All the way back, I was followed by a black-crowned night heron who called to me with its staccato quack.
"Merry Christmas yourself," I called up to it when it swung by to alight on the limb of an oak tree. Then I laughed and hurried into the dorm. From the open doorway of her room, Gisselle saw me enter the quad and wheeled herself out to block my path.
"Have another lovely dinner up at the mansion?" she teased.
"Yes, it was lovely."
"Humph," she said, and then she noticed the box I was carrying. Her eyes brightened with curiosity. "What do you have under your arm?" she demanded.
"A gift from Louis. A record," I said. "It's a symphony he composed and had recorded."
"Oh. Big deal," she said, smirking and starting to back away.
"It is a big deal. He composed it for me and it's called Ruby's Symphony."
She stared at me a moment, her face filling with envy.
"Do you want to hear it?" I asked her. "We'll play it on your phonograph."
"Of course not," she said quickly. "I hate that kind of music. It puts me to sleep." She started to turn when she spotted my ring. This time her eyes nearly popped out of her head.
"Did he give you that too?"
"Yes," I said.
"Beau's not going to like this," she declared after narrowing her eyes. She shook her head. "Another man giving you expensive gifts."
"Louis and I are just good friends. He understands that and accepts it," I said.
"Sure. He goes and spends all this money and time on you, and all you've been giving him is conversation," she replied with a twisted smile on her lips. "Who do you think you're talking to, some dumb Cajun girl who believes in tooth fairies?"
"It's true, and don't you tell anyone anything different," I warned her.
"Or?" she challenged.
"Or I'll ... break your neck," I threatened. I stepped toward her and she gazed at me with surprise. Then she backed away.
"Some sister," she moaned, loud enough for everyone in the quad to hear. "Threatening her crippled twin with violence. Merry Christmas," she screamed, spinning around in her chair to wheel herself back to her room.
I couldn't help laughing at her this time, which only infuriated her more. She slammed her door shut and I went into my room to pack for our trip home for the holidays.
The next day we had an abbreviated schedule, at the end of which we were all marched into the auditorium to hear Mrs. Ironwood's speech, which was supposed to be a short holiday talk, wishing us all a good vacation and a happy new year, but instead it turned into a heavy series of threats, warning us about failing to do our term papers and reminding us that shortly after our return we would be facing midyear exams.
But nothing she could do could diminish the excitement in the air. Parents were arriving to pick up their daughters, limousines were everywhere, and wherever I looked, girls were hugging each other and wishing each other happy holidays. Our teachers stood around to greet parents and wish students a good holiday too.
Our limousine was one of the last to arrive, which put Gisselle into a small rage. Mrs. Penny felt obligated to stay with her and comfort her, but that just gave Gisselle an ear to fill with her ranting. Shortly before our limousine did arrive, Miss Stevens appeared to say goodbye and to wish me a happy new year.
"I'm going to spend the holidays with one of the sisters from my old orphanage," she told me. "It's something of a tradition. We've spent dozens of Christmases together. She's the closest to being my mother."
Gisselle watched from the portico of the dorm as Miss Stevens and I hugged and kissed.
"I never thanked you enough for what you did for me at the hearing, Miss Stevens. It took courage."
"Sometimes doing the right thing does take more courage, but the feeling it gives you deep inside makes it worth it. That may be something only we artists understand," she said with a wink. "Do something with your spare time at home. Bring me back a picture of a setting in the Garden District," she said, getting into her jeep.
