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I changed my dress five times before deciding on the one I would wear to dinner with my new family. I couldn't decide whether I should pin up my hair or wear it long. Every little detail suddenly took on paramount importance. I wanted to make the best impression I could. In the end I decided to pin up my hair and went down to dinner just as the Tates arrived. Paul was already dressed and waiting in the entryway.
Toby and Jeanne entered first, Jeanne bubbling over with excitement and eager to describe how the community was reacting to our elopement. Octavious and Gladys Tate followed; she clung to his arm as if she were afraid she wouldn't be able to stand straight or keep from fainting if she were on her own. She kissed Paul on the cheek and then gazed up at me as I descended the stairway.
A tall woman, only an inch or so shorter than her husband, Gladys Tate usually projected a regal stature. I knew she had come from a wealthy Cajun family in Beaumont, Texas. She had attended a finishing school and college where she had met Octavious Tate. It often surprised me that more people didn't suspect Paul was not really her child. Her features were so much sharper, thinner. There was a hardness in her face, a look of superiority and arrogance, and aloofness, that set her apart from most of the women in our Cajun community, even the ones who were wealthy, too.
She usually kept her hair stylishly cut and wore the most up-to-date designs, but tonight she looked so dark and depressed that not even the most fashionable clothing or best hairstylist could change her sad appearance. She gave me the feeling she was attending a wake rather than a family dinner. Her eyes searched my face anxiously as I approached.
"Hi," I said, smiling nervously. I gazed at Paul and then said, "I guess I should start calling you two Mom and Dad."
Octavious smiled nervously, his eyes shifting to Gladys, who, only because Paul's sisters were present, let her lips slip into a quick grin. Immediately she returned to her more formal expression.
"Where's the baby?" she asked in a cold, hard voice, directing the question at Paul rather than me.
"Oh, we've just hired a nanny today, Mom. Her name is Mrs. Flemming. Both she and Pearl are upstairs in the nursery. She fed Pearl earlier, but she'll bring her down after we eat."
"A nanny?" Gladys said, nodding, impressed.
"She's very nice," I offered. Gladys Tate's lips softened slightly when she gazed at me. I felt we could slice the air between us, it was that thick.
"I'll go see about dinner," I said. "Why don't you show everyone into the dining room."
"I haven't really seen your house, Paul," Gladys complained.
"Oh. Right. Let me take my mother around first, Ruby."
"Fine," I said, happy for the chance to get away. This was going to be harder than I had imagined, I thought.
Letty, as though she knew the deepest, darkest secrets, prepared a meal that was even more special than the first she had prepared for us. Octavious kept saying how jealous he was that his son had a finer cook. For her part Gladys complimented everything properly, but every time she spoke, I sensed a control wound so tight that at any moment it could spring loose and become hysteria. It was as if she might burst out in shrill screams suddenly over the slightest thing. It kept Paul, his father, and me on pins and needles. I was relieved when we had gotten through the dessert, which was a chocolate rum souffle Paul's father said rivaled any he had ever had.
Just as Molly refilled everyone's coffee cup, Mrs. Flemming appeared with Pearl in her arms.
"Isn't she gorgeous, Mom?" Jeanne cried. "I think she has Paul's eyes, don't you?"
Gladys Tate stared at me a moment and then looked at Pearl. "She is a pretty child," she said in a very noncommittal tone of voice.
"Do you want to hold her, madame?" Mrs. Flemming offered. I held my breath. Mrs. Flemming was a grandmere who knew how much any grandmere would want to hold and kiss her own grandchild.
"Of course," Gladys said with a forced smile. Mrs. Flemming brought Pearl to her. She squirmed uncomfortably in her arms, but didn't cry. Gladys Tate stared into her face for a moment and then kissed her quickly on the forehead. She smiled up at Mrs. Flemming and nodded to indicate she wanted her to take her back. Mrs. Flemming's eyes narrowed for a moment and then she hurried forward.
"How does it feel to be a grandmere, Mom?" Jeanne asked.
Gladys Tate smiled coldly. "If you mean do I feel any older as a result, Jeanne, the answer is no." She turned and fixed her gaze on me across the table, and then Paul suggested we all go into the library.
"It's not much yet. Nothing is, but after Ruby and I return from New Orleans, this place is going to be a showcase."
"Why don't you two tell your mother some of your plans for the house decor," Octavious suggested. He turned to me. "Gladys did most of our decorating."
"Oh, I'd love to get some suggestions," I said, turning to her.
"I'm not a decorator," she snapped.
"Now, don't be modest, Gladys," Octavious said, undaunted. He nodded at me. "Your mother-inlaw knows her way around when it comes to furnishing and decorating expensive houses. Why, I bet she could just walk through this house with you and make suggestions off the top of her head."
"Octavious!"
"You could, Gladys," he insisted.
"You two go on," Paul suggested. "I'll entertain everyone else in the library."
