eyebrows lifted. "Secretly you had Uncle Jean moved
/> from his private room into a ward."
She sat back and crossed her arms under her
bosom.
"Secretly?" She laughed a hollow, thin laugh
before looking at Bruce and then turning to me with a
frown. "I don't have to do anything secretly. I don't
need your or your sister's or anyone else's permission
to do anything that regards this family."
"Why did you do it?" I cried. "We can afford to
have him in his own room."
"A private room was a waste of money. I
always thought it so," she said. "Not that I have to
explain myself to you or your sister."
"But he's regressing now. The staff says so. He
no longer cares about himself the way he used to
and--"
"He wasn't making any real progress either
way. All Pierre was doing was soothing his own
troubled conscience by lavishing the extra money on
Jean. It was a ridiculous expenditure:"-
"It wasn't," I insisted. "I saw the difference; you
haven't."
"Since when did you get a degree in mental
illness?" she shot back. Then she smiled coldly again,
a smile that put chills into my spine. "Or have you
inherited some magical powers from your faithhealing grandmere?"
A heat came into my face. Daphne never
missed an opportunity to mock my grandmere's
memory. She loved ridiculing the Cajun world. I took