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waste it on Jean, for all I care. Until then, I'm the only
one who makes the decisions about how to spend the
Dumas fortune. I have an expert in these matters," she
said, nodding toward Bruce, "so I don't need to hear
from you. Do you understand? Do you?" she
hammered when I didn't reply.
"No," I said, nailing my feet to the floor in
defiance. "I don't understand how you could do this to poor Uncle Jean, who has no life, who has nothing but
his own troubled mind."
"Good. So you don't understand." She sat back
again. "Whatever," she said, waving her hand. "But
for now, march yourself upstairs and close the door
behind you or I'll call Beau's parents and have them
bring him over here right now to hear what you and he
did," she threatened, "and then punish you twice as
severely."
My eyes burned with the hot tears of anger and
frustration.
"But I have to be at the wake. . . . I should be--
"
"You should listen to what you are told to do,"
she said firmly, punching out the words. She extended
her arm, her forefinger pointing toward the stairway.
"Now march!"
I lowered my head.
"Can't you find some other way to punish me?"
I begged, the tears running down my cheeks. "No. I don't have the time, nor do I have the
energy to sit here and dream up ways to reward you
for insubordination, especially when you are
disobedient under these circumstances. I have a
