All That Glitters (12 page)

"But. . La Ruby, you know I always fancied you, and stuck up for you whenever Daphne was too harsh."
"When?" I snapped. "You never had the courage to oppose her, even when you saw her do mean things to me, to my uncle Jean, even to Gisselle. Don't look to me for favors, Bruce."
His eyes narrowed. "You two won't get away with this. I have lawyers also, you know, high-paid, important lawyers and business associates."
"Frankly, I don't care, Bruce. I'm going to leave those battles up to Gisselle."
He smiled wryly. "She stole your boyfriend, you know."
I felt the heat in my face and knew I had turned crimson. "I'm married, Bruce."
His smile widened. "We'll see who gets the last laugh here," he threatened, and returned to the desk.
I went to the dining room and told Gisselle about my conversation with him. She shrugged.
"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 standing 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."
"Where you gave birth to . . ."
"Pearl. She's a beautiful child, Beau."
"And where you got married?"
"Yes."
He lowered his eyes. "When I heard you had married, I decided to stay on in Europe. The truth was, I didn't want to ever come home again. But," he said with a sigh, "that wasn't realistic. Then Gisselle arrived." He smiled. "She's changed, hasn't she?" he asked, hoping for my agreement. "I think she's finally growing up, maturing. Terrible events like this drag you kicking and screaming out of childhood. She knows she's got to be a responsible person now. She has a fortune to oversee, business interests."
"I understand you've been a great help so far," I said. "I'm doing what I can. Have you seen Bruce?" he asked.
"Yes. Whatever happens to him is only just," I said. "Don't worry. I'll make sure he doesn't get a penny more than he's supposed to get," he promised.
"Money isn't that important to me anymore, eau. Actually, it never was as important to me as it was to Gisselle."
"I know. I saw the write-up on you in the paper. Do you have a studio like this?"
"Yes, but with magnificent views of the canals. It's in the attic of our house," I said.
"It sounds wonderful. Gisselle has kept me upto-date on everything, and from the way she describes. . . what do you call it, Cypress Woods?" I nodded. "From the way she describes it, it sounds like utopia."
"I was always happier in the bayou, surrounded by natural things. That was all too much a part of me, of who and what I was, for me to ever give them up."
"Even for me?" he asked softly. His eyes shone brilliantly with unused tears.
"Beau . ."
"It's all right. I'm being unfair. I have no right to ask or demand anything from you. You have a right to despise me for leaving you. Nothing that's happened to me or will happen is undeserved," he said.
"We were both at fault, Beau, and both victims of a cruel fate," I replied softly. We stared into each other's eyes, drawing each other closer.
"Ruby," he whispered. He started to reach for me when Gisselle burst into the studio.
"So here you are," she shrilled. "I should have known you would find her. Stevens told me you had come, and when I couldn't find you in the office or living room, I just asked myself, where would he go?"
"Hi, Gisselle," he said. She lunged at him and kissed him fully on the lips, her eyes opened and turned toward me as she did so. "I missed you this morning," she said after she pulled her mouth from his. "When did you leave?"
Beau blushed. "Early. You knew I had to meet with your attorneys."
"Oh. Right. My brain is like a bowl of scrambled eggs today. Well, you might as well tell us what you discussed and what we have to do," she said. "Let's all go to the office and talk." She took Beau's hand and, very full of herself, smiled at me. "All right, Ruby?"
"Fine," I said, and followed them out.
Back at the office, we listened as Beau reviewed what our attorneys believed. How Daphne had gotten Bruce to sign documents excluding himself from her fortune and ours before he married her was a puzzle, but sign them, he did, and the attorneys felt they were ironclad.
"Whatever legal maneuvering he tries will be an exercise in futility," Beau said. "Now, there is a short time left before you take control of everything, but with the attorneys acting as executors, you will have control immediately."
"Then we can spend whatever we want? Buy whatever we want?" Gisselle asked excitedly.
"Yes."
"No more restrictions! The first thing I want is my own sports car. Daphne wouldn't let me have it," she whined, and then turned to me. "You should go through the house and decide what you want to take back to the swamps with you now. I might just have someone come and auction things off," she threatened. "And there is the question of the ranch, our apartment buildings . ."
"Gisselle, must we discuss this now?"
"I don't care when we discuss it or if we never discuss it. If you want to, just send your attorney around one day to talk to our estate attorneys, right, Beau?"
He gazed at me. "If that's what she wants," he said.
"Let's leave it at that for now," I said. The emotional weight of returning to the house, reviving memories, and then meeting Beau again was overwhelming. I felt like I could sleep a week. "I'd like to just rest for a while," I said. "I think I'll go up to my room. I've got to call home and check on Pearl, too."
Beau shifted his eyes from me to Gisselle and then down to the documents.
"So go take a rest," she said. "I'm not the least bit tired now. In fact, I want to get out of here for a few hours. I feel like I'm suffocating under all this dreariness. Beau, take me down to Jackson Square for coffee and beignets," she commanded.
"If that's what you want to do," he said.
"I do. Thank you, Beau." She beamed a wide smile of self-satisfaction at me.
Beau looked very reluctant to leave, but he did so. phoned Mrs. Flemming and heard that everything was fine at home. Then I went up to what had once been my own room and lay down on the bed in which I had dreamed often of Beau and myself together, happy. I closed my eyes and in moments, I was asleep.
I woke up to the sound of laughter rising from the base of the stairway and listened.
"Come by in an hour to take us to the wake," I heard Gisselle call out, and then I heard her pound up the stairs. She stopped in my doorway and I sat up, grinding the drowsiness out of my eyes.
"Hi," she said. "We had such a nice time. There was a wonderful breeze at the Riverwalk and we sat and watched the tourists and the artists. You should have come along. Are you well rested? Because we have to go to the funeral parlor for the wake. I'm not having people at the house until after the funeral," she said.
"Yes."
"Then get dressed," she sang. "Beau's coming for us in an hour."
She hurried off and I wondered how even she could be in such a party mood on such a dark occasion. But at the wake she behaved properly, producing tears whenever she wanted them. Despite the role he had played in the little conspiracies against my father, I couldn't help but feel some pity for Bruce, who stood alone in a corner most of the time. Apparently the truth about his relationship with Daphne was no secret, and now that Daphne was gone, everyone understood Bruce had little power and relatively little wealth.
All of Daphne's social friends and many of her business associates stopped by to greet us. Our attorneys were there to introduce them. I sensed that Gisselle was becoming impatient and tired of the somber atmosphere. After an hour or so, she was ready to leave. But Beau was at her side imploring her to stay a little longer. Mourners were still arriving. When she gave in, I realized how strong and good an influence he was on her and smiled to myself.
Periodically I would shift my eyes toward him. He and I would gaze at each other and I would feel my heart start to pitter-patter. I was afraid that someone else would see in my face the warm feelings that still flowed through my body whenever I was close to him or he spoke to me, so I tried to avoid him. But it was like trying to avoid a tall glass of cold water after spending days in the dry desert. I couldn't keep my eyes from shifting in his direction, and every time I heard his voice, I stopped speaking and listening to anyone else. It was still music to my ears, but it was difficult for us to spend any time alone, and the next morning, Paul arrived early to accompany me to the funeral.
I knew we were a great curiosity to many people who had heard about my marriage and new life in the bayou. When Daphne's coffin was slid into the Dumas family vault, my thoughts went to Daddy. In my heart I believed he would have rather been laid to rest beside my real mother. I hoped that spiritually, wherever souls went to spend eternity, they had found each other again, and Daphne. . . would be delivered to another place.