"Well, it's not going to be mine. There are going to be some serious changes around here now, and it's best you two understand that immediately. I'm still a very young woman. I don't intend to let these events age and sicken me, and that's just what they would do if we continued the way things were."
"Events?" I said.
"Yes, events. Everything's an event." She turned her lips into a twisted smile. "Oh, don't start with your histrionics, Ruby. I know you better than you think." Her smile faded and was replaced by a look of firm anger. "You came here from the swamps and you won your place in your father's heart, conniving, reminding him of his great romance in the bayou, just so you would get your piece of inheritance. I'm sure that grandmother of yours put you up to it."
I felt the blood rush into my cheeks, but before I could respond, she continued.
"Don't worry, I don't blame you for it," she said. "I would probably have done the same thing if I had been in your moccasins. Well, what's done is done. You're in your father's will and you will get your piece. Both of you will," she added, turning to Gisselle. "And it will start when you're both twenty-one. Until then, everything you've inherited is in trust, with me as the executor. I will be the one to decide what you get now and what you don't. I will be the one who tells you where you will go and what you will do."
Gisselle smirked. "You always wanted to be the boss, Mother," she said, nodding.
"I always was, you little fool. Did you really believe it was your father who was running the business? He had no real business sense. He didn't have the heart for it. He could never make the tough decisions if it involved taking from someone or cutting someone out. He was too soft to be in business. If it weren't for me, we wouldn't have half what we have; and now you two are going to inherit a big piece of that. Too much of it, if you ask me, but that's the way it is.
"I don't expect you two to be grateful, but I do expect you to be obedient and cooperative," she continued. "The funeral will be over in two days," she said, pulling herself up even firmer in the seat. "After that, you are to return to Greenwood."
"Oh, but Mother," Gisselle moaned.
"Yes, you are," Daphne hammered. "I don't have the strength or the patience to deal with you two and your problems on a day-to-day basis right now. I want you to return, to do well, to obey all the rules and not get into a bit of trouble, you hear? I warn you: If you cause even an iota of aggravation, I'll have the two of you sent to an even stricter place. If you really annoy me, I will see about nullifying your inheritances, understand? Then they'll stick you into a home for crippled people and you'll really be sorry. And you," she said, focusing her anger at me, "you will be sent back to the bayou to live with whatever Cajun relatives are left."
Gisselle lowered her head and grimaced. I simply glared at Daphne. She had become the ice queen. Freezing water ran through her veins. I was sure that if I touched her, she'd feel colder than Daddy now felt. I should have realized she would be like this. Gisselle had been right: Daphne despised the sight of us more than she had loved Daddy.
"Take your sister upstairs now and prepare yourselves to greet the many mourners who will come here shortly to pay their respects. Make sure you both dress properly and act properly."
"Has Uncle Jean been told about Daddy?" I asked.
"Of course not," she replied. "What would be the point?"
"He has a right to know. It's his brother."
"Please, the man doesn't know what day it is, where he's at, or even his own name anymore."
"But . . ."
She rose, towering over us, her beauty hardened so that she looked statuesque, poured into a mold.
"Just do what I tell you to do and worry about yourselves. It seems to me," she added, looking at Gisselle and then back at me, "that there's enough there to worry about," She gave us her wintry smile before turning to leave.
Gisselle wagged her head and groaned.
"I told you so, didn't I? Didn't I?" she complained. "Now she's sending us back to Greenwood. I didn't even have a chance to tell her why she shouldn't. Maybe later, you can say something. She'll listen more to you. I just know it."
"I don't want to stay here," I said, furious. "As bad as Greenwood is, I'd rather be there than here with her."
"Oh, damn you for being so stupid. She won't bother us after a while. She'll do her own things and leave us alone. We'll be better off here, and you can be with Beau."
"I don't want to think about that right now. I just want to think about Daddy," I said, and began to push her out.
"Daddy's dead. He can't help us. He can't help himself!"
Edgar was waiting at the foot of the stairs to assist with Gisselle.
"Where's Nina?" I asked him.
"She's in her room. She spends most of her time there now," he said, and he shifted his eyes so I would understand that Nina had turned to her voodoo for solace and protection. We heard someone on the stairs and looked up to see the new maid, Martha Woods, a stout, elderly woman with gray hair chopped at her ears, dark brown eyes, and a rather large mouth with a thick lower lip. She had neglected to pluck some face hairs that were curled back on her chin.
"Oh, this is Mademoiselle Gisselle and Mademoiselle Ruby," she said, clapping her hands together. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you before, but I've been preparing your rooms. Everything's spick-and-span clean and organized," she declared. "And madame insists we all keep it that way."
"Oh no," Gisselle groaned. "Just take me to my room, Edgar."
"I'll help," Martha said.
"Edgar can do it himself," Gisselle snapped. "Just go wash a toilet someplace."
Martha gasped and looked at me.
"I'm going to see Nina," I muttered, and hurried away. I found her seated in her soft-cushioned chair, surrounded by lit blue candles. She wore her red tignon in her hair with the seven knots all pointing straight up. When she saw me, her eyes took on some of the light and she smiled. She rose to hug me.
"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.