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"I'm leaving all that to Beau and our attorneys," she said. "But I was thinking I would buy out your share of this house and the New Orleans properties. You have so much, why should you care?" she added before I could offer any resistance.
"That's fine with me," I said.
She smiled. "I just knew we would get along fine during this difficult time. We have to do what we can to comfort each other, don't we? What are you going to wear to the funeral? Did you bring something appropriate? I have a closet full of new clothing. You can borrow anything. Just look through my racks and racks of garments. You're a little wider than I am in the hips since you gave birth, but most everything should fit," she said.
"I brought something of my own, thank you," I said. We both turned when Bruce appeared in the doorway. He hugged a bundle of papers in his arms.
"I'm leaving for a while," he said. "Going to the offices of my attorneys."
"Don't think you can destroy any papers, Bruce," Gisselle said. "I know Mother kept copies of everything with Simons and Beauregard, who are now our attorneys."
He spun around angrily and, in doing so, dropped some of his documents. Gisselle laughed as he fumbled and knelt to gather them up. Then, fuming, he pounded his way down the corridor and out the door.
"Good riddance," Gisselle called after him. She smiled at me. "I was thinking of closing the house for a month and traveling. Maybe to London. Aren't these oysters and artichokes delicious? This large pastry shell is called vol-au-vent," she said pedantically.
The food was good, but I wasn't in the mood to enjoy anything. After lunch, Gisselle went to call some friends and I wandered through the house. Little had been changed or added. I sighed deeply and walked on through the house until I came to what was once my studio. Nothing had been taken out of it, but the room had obviously been kept closed. There were layers and layers of dust on everything, and even cobwebs around the windows and in the corners. Paints were dried and brushes hardened. I gazed at some of my aborted drawings and stood by the easel.
The memory of that day with Beau returned, the day he tempted me into drawing him nude. I looked at the sofa and envisioned him there again, that soft, impish smile on his lips and in his eyes. My heart had been pounding the whole time, but somehow, I had managed to get into my art and had drawn a picture so lifelike and realistic that later, when Daphne discovered it, she had no trouble realizing who it was and what had happened.
It was later that day, after I had worked on his picture, that Beau and I first made love. The memory of his kiss, his touch, our passionate embraces, swept over me and even now stole my breath away. Mesmerized by my own recollections, I approached the sofa slowly and gazed at it as if I could see us together again, a replay of those moments of ecstasy, the two of us joining in an act of love so complete, we lost ourselves in each other and pledged a love we thought could never die.
I sat quickly, feeling my legs soften and threaten to give out from under me. For a while I remained there, my eyes closed, my heart thumping against my chest. Then I took a deep breath and turned to gaze out the window at the sprawling oak trees and gardens, recalling how excited I was when I first set out to draw and paint in my own studio.
"Penny for your thoughts," I heard a soft voice say, and turned to see Beau stand
ing in the doorway. His shock of shiny golden hair still fell wildly over his smooth forehead, and his dark complexion still made his blue eyes glimmer that much more. He wore a dark blue blazer and khaki pants with his shirt opened at the collar. His handsome face was so familiar to me: his sensual and perfect mouth, his perfectly straight, Roman nose, and his strong chiseled-looking chin.
I was speechless for a moment, unable to move under the radiance of his warm and attractive smile, which quickly turned into a soft laugh.
"You look like you're gazing at a ghost," he said. He came to me quickly and took my hands, guiding me to my feet. We embraced and then he stepped back and held my hands up to look at me.
"You haven't changed, except to look more beautiful," he said. "Well?" he said. "Say something."
"Hello, Beau."
We laughed and then he gathered himself into a more serious demeanor, pulling his shoulders back and tightening his lips.
"I'm glad I've found you alone. I wanted to explain what happened, why I left so quickly when your pregnancy was discovered," he began.
"I don't demand explanations," I said, turning away.
"It wasn't the act of a southern gentleman. . . to leave the woman he loved in the lurch. I was a coward, short and simple. My parents were overwrought. My mother was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She thought everyone in New Orleans would learn of the scandal and their lives would be ruined. I never saw my father that low.
"Then they met with Daphne and she assured them she would take care of the problem if they would have me sent off immediately. I tried to call you before I left, but I couldn't get through. I was practically led off in shackles. In hours they arranged for the transportation, the air tickets, the school, my Paris apartment.
"I had nothing of my own at the time. I was completely dependent upon my parents. If I had defied them, they would have surely disowned me, and what could I have done for you, for us and a baby?
"I admit, I was afraid. Before I knew what I was doing and what was happening to me, I was over the Atlantic Ocean. My parents forbade me to have anything more to do with you, but I sent you letters in the beginning. Did you receive any?"
"No," I said, shooting a quick glance at him. "I was no longer here, and Daphne wouldn't have made any effort to save them or have them forwarded to me."
"I never ran out on any of my responsibilities before," he said. "Everyone, my parents, Daphne, everyone assured me that things would be all right with you."
I looked at him. "All right?" I almost laughed, remembering.
Pain flashed in his eyes. "What did happen?" he asked softly.
"Daphne sent me to have an abortion in some back-room clinic. Once I set eyes on the place, I realized what I was doing and ran off, back to the bayou."
