In sterling silver frames, my father had pictures of Daphne and Gisselle. There was a picture of two people I assumed to be his parents, my grandparents. My grand-mother, Mrs. Dumas, looked like a small woman, pretty with diminutive features, but an overall sadness in her lips and eyes. Where, I wondered, was there a picture of my father's younger brother, Jean?
I left the office and found there was a separate study, a library with red leather sofas and high back chairs, gold leaf tables, and brass lamps. A curio case in the study was filled with valuable looking red, green, and purple hand blown goblets, and the walls, as were the walls in all the rooms, were covered with oil paintings. I went in and browsed through some of the books on the shelves.
"Here you are," I heard my father say, and I turned to see him and Gisselle standing in the doorway. Gisselle was in a pink silk robe and the softest looking pink slippers. Her hair had been hastily brushed and looked it. Pale and sleepy eyed, she stood with her arms folded under her breasts. "We were looking for you."
"I was just exploring. I hope it's all right," I said.
"Of course it's all right. This is your home. Go where you like. Well now, Gisselle understands what's happened and wants to greet you as if for the first time," he said, and smiled. I looked at Gisselle who sighed and stepped forward.
"I'm sorry for the way I behaved," she began. "I didn't know the story. No one ever told me anything like this before," she added, shifting her eyes toward our father, who looked sufficiently apologetic. "Anyway, this changes things a lot. Now that I know you really are my sister and you've gone through a terrible time."
"I'm glad," I said. "And you don't have to apologize for anything. I can understand why you'd be upset at me suddenly appearing on your doorstep."
She seemed pleased, gashed a look at father and then turned back to me.
"I want to welcome you to our family. I'm looking forward to getting to know you," she added. It had the resonance of something memorized, but I was happy to hear the words nevertheless. "And don't worry about school. Daddy told me you were concerned, 'But you don't have to be. No one is going to give my sister a hard time," she declared.
"Gisselle is the class bully," our father said, and smiled.
"I'm not a bully, but I'm not going to let those namby-pambies push us around," she swore. "Anyway, you can come into my room later and talk. We should really get to know each other."
"I'd like that."
"Maybe you want to go along with Ruby and Daphne to shop for Ruby's new wardrobe," our father suggested.
"I can't. Beau's coming over." She flashed a smile at me. "I mean, I'd call him and cancel, but he so looks forward to seeing me, and besides, by the time I get ready, you and Mother could be half finished. Come out to the pool as soon as you get back," she said.
"I will."
"Don't let Mother buy those horribly long skirts, the ones that go all the way down to your ankles. Everyone's wearing shorter skirts these days," she advised, but I couldn't imagine telling Daphne what or what not to buy me. I was grateful for anything. I nodded, but Gisselle saw my hesitation.
"Don't worry about it," Gisselle said. "If you don't get things that are in style, let you borrow something for your first day at school."
"That's very nice," our father said. "Thanks for being so understanding, honey."
"You're welcome, Daddy," she said, and kissed him on the cheek. He beamed and then rubbed his hands together.
"I have a set of twins!" he cried. "Both grown and beautiful. What man could be luckier!"
I hoped he was right. Gisselle excused herself to go up and get dressed and I walked out to the front of the house with my father to wait for Daphne.
"I'm sure you and Gisselle will get along marvelously," he said, "but there's bound to be a few hills and valleys in any relationship, especially an instant sister relationship. If you have any real problems, come see me. Don't bother Daphne about it," he said. "She's been a wonderful mother for Gisselle, despite the unusual circumstances, and I'm sure she will be wonderful for you, too; but I feel I should bear most of the responsibilities. I'm sure you understand. You seem very mature, more mature than Gisselle," he added,
What a strange predicament, I thought. Daphne wanted me to come to her and he wanted me to come to him, and each appeared to have good reason. Hopefully, I wouldn't have to trouble either.
I heard Daphne's footsteps on the stairway and gazed up. She wore a flowing black skirt, a white velvet blouse, low black heels and a string of real pearls. Her blue eyes glistened and her smile spread to show even white teeth. She carried herself so elegantly.
"There are few things I like to do better than shop," she declared. She kissed my father on the cheek.
"Nothing makes me happier than seeing you and Gisselle happy, Daphne," he told her. "And now, I can add Ruby."
"Go to work, darling. Earn money. I'm going to show your new daughter how to spend it," she retorted.
"And you won't find a better teacher when it comes to that," he quipped. He opened the door for us and we went out.
I still felt this was all too good to be true and that any moment I would wake up in my little room in the bayou. I pinched myself and was happy to feel the tiny sting that assured me it was all real.
13
I Can't Be You
I felt as if I were caught in a whirlwind because of the way my new stepmother went about taking me shopping. As soon as we were finished in one boutique, Daphne whisked me out the door to go to another or to a department store. Whenever she decided something looked nice on me or looked appropriate, she ordered it packed immediately, sometimes buying two, three, and four of the same blouse, the same skirt, even the same pair of shoes, but in different colors. The trunk and the backseat of the car quickly filled up. Each purchase took my breath away and she didn't seem at all concerned about the prices.
Everywhere we went, the salespeople appeared to know Daphne and respect her, We were treated like royalty, some clerks throwing aside anything they were doing the instant Daphne and I marched into their stores. Most assumed I was Gisselle and Daphne did not bother to explain.
"It's not important what these people do and don't know," she told me when a saleslady called me Gisselle. "When they call you Gisselle, just go along for now. The people who matter will be told everything quickly."
Although Daphne didn't have much respect for the sales people, I noticed how careful they were when they made suggestions, and how concerned they were that Daphne might not approve. As soon as Daphne settled on a color or a style, all of them nodded and agreed immediately, complimenting her in chorus on the choices she had made for me.
She did seem very informed. She knew the latest styles, the designers by name, and the garments that had been featured in fashion magazines, knowing things about clothes that even the salespeople and store owners didn't know yet themselves. Being chic and up-to-date was obviously a high priority for my stepmother, who became upset if the salesperson brought colors that didn't coordinate perfectly or if a sleeve or hem was wrongly cut. Most of the time between stores and traveling in the car, she lectured to me about style, the importance of appearance, and being sure everything I wore matched and coordinated.
"Every time you go out of the house and into society, you make a statement about yourself," she warned, "and that statement reflects on your family.