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"Yes. I can't help thinking how devastated my father would have been had he been alive when this happened to her. He idolized her
. I saw that from the first moment I met them."
"Poor Ruby," Paul said, rising to embrace me. "Even after I've built this little Shangri-La away from everyone, sadness still finds its way to our doors."
"There is no such paradise on earth, Paul. You can pretend and ignore just so much, but the dark clouds won't disappear. I think that's something we both better realize," I warned. He nodded.
"When are you leaving?"
"In the morning," I said numbly. Through my mind flitted all kinds of gloomy thoughts.
"I hate to see any sadness in your face, Ruby." He kissed me on the forehead and hugged me to him, pressing his lips to my hair.
"I better go see to my packing," I whispered, and hurried away, my heart feeling as if it had shrunk in my chest and only tapped a tiny beat.
The following morning, after kissing Pearl good-bye and telling Mrs. Flemming I would call often, I went out to my car. Paul had carried out my things and put them in the trunk. He was waiting for me at the car, his face downcast and troubled. Neither of us had slept well the night before. I heard and saw him come to my door several times, but I didn't let him know I was awake. I was afraid that his
comforting kisses and embrace would slip into something else again.
"I really hate to let you go by yourself," he said. "I should accompany you."
"And then do what? Hold my hand? Pace back and forth thinking about all the things you could and should be doing? You would just make me nervous," I told him. He smiled.
"Just like you to always think about someone else's feelings, even at a time like this." He kissed me on the cheek and hugged me and I got into my car. "Drive carefully," he said. "I'll call you tonight."
"'Bye." With many trepidations, I headed for New Orleans.
I had the top down and wore a white silk kerchief. How much I had changed, I thought. All of the difficulties and troubles during the last year or so had aged and toughened me in ways I was just beginning to understand. A year ago, driving myself to New Orleans would have been the same as taking myself to the moon. Somewhere along this short but difficult journey I had undergone, I had left the little girl behind. I had a woman's work to do now and I had inherited the grit and the strength and the confidence from Grandmere Catherine to do it.
Despite my fears of it happening, I didn't get lost traveling the streets of New Orleans. When I pulled into the circular drive and saw Daddy's old Rolls-Royce parked by the garage, I gazed at the front door and hesitated. It had been years and years since I had entered this house. I took a deep breath and got out of my car. The new butler came to the door quickly. When he set his eyes on me, he blinked rapidly with confusion at first.
"Oh," he said. "You must be Mademoiselle's twin sister."
"That's right. I'm Ruby."
"My name is Stevens, madame," he said with a slight nod. "I'm sorry for your trouble."
"Thank you, Stevens."
"May I bring in your things?" he offered.
"Thank you," I said. I had expected to see many cars in the driveway when I pulled in and dozens of Daphne's friends gathered to console Gisselle and Bruce, but the house was quiet, empty. "Where is my sister?"
"Mademoiselle is upstairs in her suite," he said, stepping back. I entered the great foyer, and for a moment it was as if I had never left, as if all that had happened since had been a dream. I almost expected to see Daphne come out of the office to smirk a greeting at me and question what I was wearing or where I had been. But there was nothing but silence. All of the lights were either low or unlit. The chandeliers hung like drops of ice. The grand stairway was draped in shadows as if Death itself had traipsed through the house and left his tracks over the carpets and floors.
"I'll be staying in the room adjoining my sister's, Stevens," I told the butler.
"Very good, madame." He hurried out to get my suitcase and I started up the stairs. Before I reached the landing, I heard a peal of laughter coming from Gisselle's open doorway. She was on the telephone. When she turned and saw me standing there, her smile quickly faded and she immediately took on the dark look of a bereaved daughter.
"I can't talk anymore, Pauline. My sister has just arrived and we have to discuss all the funeral arrangements and things. Yes, it's just horrible," she said with a deep sigh. "Thank you for being so understanding. Good-bye." She cradled the receiver slowly and then rose to greet me. "I'm so glad you've come, Ruby," she said, and embraced me, kissing both my cheeks. "It's been terrible, a horrible emotional drain. I don't know what's keeping me standing."
"Hello, Gisselle," I said dryly, and gazed around the room. Her clothes were strewn about and there was a tray of empty dishes from breakfast on a nightstand with an opened movie fan magazine beside it.
"I haven't been able to see anyone or do anything," she immediately complained. "It's all fallen on my head."
"What about Bruce?" I inquired.
"Bruce?" She threw her head back with a thin laugh. "What a wet noodle he turned out to be. And don't I know why, too?" she said, her eyes mean and piercing. "He's lost his meal ticket. All he's been doing is going over legal papers, hoping to find a loophole, but I told him in no uncertain terms to forget it."
