"Nina be thinking about you all day," she said. She gazed around fearfully. "This house be filled with evil spirits crawling through every crack since Monsieur Dumas's death. Nina have this ready for you." She reached down to get a leg bone that was on the small table. "This be mojo, the leg bone of a black cat killed exactly at midnight. Strong gris-gris. Put this in your room."
"Thank you, Nina," I said, taking it.
"Someone must've burned a candle against poor Monsieur Dumas. The evil spirits snuck into the house when Nina be sleeping one night and they go and sink their teeth into him." She looked guilty.
"Oh Nina, it wasn't your fault. My father had too much on his mind and didn't watch his health. He would be the last to blame you, Nina."
"Nina tried. I pray to Virgin Mary. I go to cemetery and make the four corners, stopping at each corner to make wish for Monsieur Dumas to be healthy again. I say prayer before the statue of St. Expedite, but the bad gris-gris find a welcome mat," she said, making her eyes small. She nodded. "The door be left open."
"Daphne," I said.
"Nina speak no ill about the madame."
I smiled. "I missed you, Nina. I could have used some of your candles and powders at Greenwood."
She smiled back at me. "I cook all day to make food for the wake. You be sure you eat. You gonna need your strength," she said.
"Thank you, Nina." We hugged again, and then I went up to my room to call Beau and let him know I was home and needed him at my side, desperately.
"I'm sorry that this is the reason that brought you home," Beau said, "but I can't wait to see you."
"I can't wait to see you either," I echoed.
"My parents and I are coming to pay our respects. I'll be there soon," he told me.
After we spoke, I changed into something appropriate for the wake and went next door to see if Gisselle had done the same. She hadn't even started; she was still on the telephone, catching up on news with her old friends.
"Daphne wants us downstairs to greet the mourners," I told her. She grimaced and continued gossiping as if I weren't in the room. "Gisselle!"
"Oh, wait a minute, Collette." She put her hand over the mouthpiece and turned roughly toward me. "What do you want?"
"You've got to dress and come downstairs. People will be arriving."
"So? I don't know why I've got to rush about now. This is worse than . . than being at Greenwood," she said and turned back to her phone conversation. Whatever patience I had left evaporated. I pivoted and marched out of her room. Gisselle was Daphne's problem, I told myself. She was the one who'd brought her up, who'd given her these values and taught her how to be self-centered. They deserved each other.
People had begun to stream in: neighbors, business associates, employees, and, of course, Daphne's social acquaintances. Most went up to Daddy's coffin, knelt, and said a prayer, after which they joined Daphne, who was greeting people with a quiet elegance that indeed made her seem like someone with royal blood. I noticed that Bruce Bristow, Daddy's business manager, was constantly at Daphne's side, ready to do her every bidding. Occasionally I saw her lean over and whisper something to him. Sometimes he would smile, and sometimes he would nod and go off or approach one of the distinguished mourners, shake his hand, and bring him to Daphne.
Bruce wasn't much older than my daddy, if he was older at all. He was taller and a bit stouter, with dark brown hair and sideburns. I had met him only two or three times before, and I was always a little bothered by the way he drank me in with those hazel eyes, smiling coyly as he lowered his gaze down to my breasts, fixed his eyes there for a moment, and then lowered and lowered his gaze again until he was practically looking at my feet before lifting his eyes to travel upward ever so slowly. I always felt
uncomfortable in his presence, felt as if I had been undressed in his imagination and stood totally naked before him.
Also, he had a nickname for me from the very first time he set eyes on me. He called me La Ruby, as though I were the jewel I had been named after. And then, when he took my hand to kiss it, his lips would linger for a moment longer than they should, sending a nervous tingle up my arm.
During a moment when she had no one speaking to her, Daphne marched across the parlor to me.
"Where's your sister? Why isn't she down here already?" she demanded, her hands on her hips.
"I don't know, Mother," I said. "I told her to get dressed, but she won't get off the telephone."
"March yourself up there and get her down here this instant," she commanded.
"But . ."
"I know," she said with a crooked smile, "that you are just sitting here waiting for your precious boyfriend Beau to arrive with his parents." Her smile faded. "If you don't get Gisselle down here, I'll see to it you don't spend a moment alone with him. Not now, not ever."
"Why do I have to be responsible for Gisselle? She--"
"Because you're her dear twin sister, whole, with no handicap," she replied, smiling again. "And it's only an opportunity for you to do a good deed, perform a blessing. I'd like all these people to see how well you look after your more unfortunate sister. Now do it!" she ordered. Just as she did so, Beau and his parents entered the parlor. The sight of him lifted the crust of ice from my heart. "First things first," Daphne said, throwing a gaze Beau's way. "Go get Gisselle."