"When I bought a set of these, she thought they were too sexy," she said, holding up the abbreviated light silks.
"I've never worn anything like it," I confessed.
"Well, I'm borrowing this pair of panties, this skirt, and this blouse for tonight," she informed me firmly.
"I don't mind," I said, "but—"
"But what?" Sisters share things with each other, don't they?"
I wanted to remind her of the nasty things she had said on the stairway in the morning when I came upon her returning from the ball, how she would never let me borrow her pretty red dress, but I realized that was before my father had had his conversation with her. It did bring about a change in her attitude toward me. Then I recalled something Daphne had said.
"Daphne disapproves of girls sharing things. Even sisters. She said so," I told her.
"You just let me worry about Mother. There are a lot of things she says and then goes and does the exact opposite," Gisselle replied as she went through the blouses to decide if there were any others she wanted to borrow.
And so for the first dinner we would have together as a family, Gisselle and I wore the same style skirt and blouse. She thought it would be amusing for us to brush and tie our hair into French knots as well. We dressed in my room and sat at my vanity table.
"Here," she said, taking a gold ring off her pinky and handing it to me. "You wear this tonight. wear no jewelry, since you have none."
"Why?" I asked. I saw the impish glint in her eyes. "Daddy wants you on his left, I imagine, and me, as usual on his right."
"So?"
"I'll sit on his left; you sit on his right. Let's see if he knows the difference," she said.
"Oh, he will. He knew I wasn't you the moment he set eyes on me," I told her.
Gisselle didn't know whether to take this as something good or bad. I saw the confusion in her face for a moment and then the decision.
"We'll see," she said. "I told Beau there were differences between us, differences maybe only I can see. I know what," she said, bouncing in her chair. "We'll tease Beau tonight. You'll pretend you're me and pretend I'm you."
"Oh, I couldn't do that," I said, my heart fluttering with the thought of being Beau's girlfriend, even for a few minutes.
"Of course you can. He thought you were me the first time he set eyes on you, didn't he?"
"That was different. He didn't know I existed," I explained.
"I'll tell you exactly how to act and what to say," she continued, ignoring my point. "Oh, this is going to be fun for a change. I mean, real fun, with it all starting at dinner," she decided.
However, just as I predicted, our father knew instantly that we had taken the wrong seats at the dining room table. Daphne, who raised her eyebrows as soon as she saw the two of us in my new clothes, sat down, for the moment confused. But my father threw his head back and roared with laughter.
"What is so funny, Pierre?" Daphne demanded. She had come to dinner dressed formally in a black dress with diamond teardrop earrings and a matching diamond necklace and bracelet. The dress had a V-neck collar that dipped low enough to show the start of her cleavage. I thought she was so beautiful and elegant.
"Your daughters have dressed alike and conspired to test me at their first meal together," he said. "This is Ruby wearing Gisselle's pinky ring and this is Gisselle in Ruby's seat."
Daphne looked from me to Gisselle and then back to me.
"Ridiculous," she said. "Did you think we wouldn't know the difference? Take your proper seats, please," she commanded.
Gisselle laughed and got up. Father's eyes twinkled with delight at me, but then he turned serious, his expression sober when he gazed across the table at Daphne and saw she wasn't amused.
"I hope this is the beginning and the end of such shenanigans," Daphne declared. She directed herself to Gisselle. "I'm trying to teach your sister the proper way to behave at dinner and in the company of others. It's not going to be easy. anyway. The last thing I need is for you to set a bad example, Gisselle."
"I'm sorry," she said, and looked down for a moment. Then her head snapped up. "How come you bought her all these short skirts and carried on so much when I wanted them last month?"
"It's what she liked," Daphne said.
I whipped my head around. What I liked? I never was given a chance to offer an opinion. Why did she say that? "Well, I want some new clothes then, too," Gisselle moaned.
"You can get a few new things, but there's no reason to throw out your entire wardrobe."
Gisselle sat back and looked at me with a smile of satisfaction.
Our meal service began. We ate on a floral pattern set of porcelain china, which Daphne pointed out was nineteenth century. She made everything, down to the napkin holders, sound so expensive and precious, my fingers trembled when I went to lift my fork. I hesitated when I saw there were two. Daphne explained how I was to use the silverware and even how I should sit and hold it.
I didn't know whether or not the meal was something done especially for the occasion of our first dinner together, but it seemed overwhelming.
We began with an appetizer of crabmeat ravigote served in scallop shells. That was followed with grilled cornish game hens with roasted shallots and browned garlic sauce, and Creole green beans. For dessert we were served vanilla ice cream smothered in hot bourbon whiskey sauce.
I saw how Edgar stood just behind Daphne after he served each course, waiting for her to take her first taste and signal approval. I couldn't imagine anyone not being satisfied with anything on the table. My father asked me to describe some of the meals I had in the bayou and I described the gumbos and the jambalayas, the homemade cakes and pastries.
"It doesn't sound like they starved you," Gisselle remarked. I couldn't help sounding enthusiastic over the meals Grandmère Catherine used to make.
"Gumbo is nothing more than a stew," Daphne said. "The food is plain and simple. It doesn't take much imagination. You can see that yourself, can't you, Ruby?" she asked me firmly. I glanced at my father, who waited for my response.
"Nina Jackson is a wonderful cook. I never had such a meal," I admitted. That pleased Daphne and another little crisis seemed to pass. How hard it was for me to get used to belittling and criticizing my life with Grandmère, but realized that was the currency I would need to pay for the life I now had.
The conversation at the table moved from my description of foods in the bayou to questions Daphne had for Gisselle about the Mardi Gras Ball. She described the costumes and the music, referring to people they all knew. She and Daphne seemed to share opinions about certain families and their sons and daughters. Tired of hearing the gossip, my father began to talk about my artwork.
"I've already inquired about an instructor. Madam Henreid over at the Gallier House has recommended someone to me, an instructor at Tulane who takes pupils on the side. I've already spoken with him and he's agreed to meet Ruby and consider her work," he said.
"How come I never got my singing instructor," Gisselle whined.
"You never really showed that much interest, Gisselle. Every time I asked you to go to the teacher, you had some excuse not to," he explained.
"Well, she should have been brought here," Gisselle insisted.
"She would have come," he said, looking to Daphne.
"Of course she would have come. Do you want your father to call her again?" she asked.
"No," Gisselle said. "It's too late."
"Why?" he asked.
"It just is," she said, pouting.
When dinner was over, my father decided he would show me the room he had in mind for my art studio. He winked at Daphne and had a tight smile on his lips. Reluctantly, Gisselle tagged along. He took us toward the rear of the house and when he threw open the door, there it was—a full art studio, already in place with easels, paints, brushes, clays, everything I would ever need or dreamt of having. For a moment I was speechless.
"I had this all done while you were out shopping with Daphne," he revealed. "Do you like it?"
"Like it? I love it!" I whirled around the room inspecting everything. There was even a pile of art books, going from the most elementary things to the most elaborate and complicated. "It's . . . wonderful!"
"I thought we should waste no time, not with a talent like yours. What do you think, Gisselle?" I turned to see her smirking in the doorway.
"I hate art class in school," she remarked. Then she focused a conspiratorial look on me and added, "I'm going up to my room. Come up as soon as you can. We have some things to prepare for later."
"Later?" my father asked.
"Just girl talk, Daddy," Gisselle said, and left. He shrugged and joined me at the shelves of supplies.
"I told Emile at the art store to give me everything we would need to have a complete studio," he said. "Are you pleased?"
"Oh, yes. There are things here, materials and supplies I have never seen, much less used."
"That's why we need the instructor as soon as possible, too. I think once he sees this studio, he'll be encouraged to take you on as one of his pupils. Not that he shouldn't by just looking at your painting anyway." He beamed his smile down at me.
"Thank you . . . Daddy," I said. His smile widened.
"I like hearing that," he said. "I hoped you felt welcomed."
"Oh, yes, I do. Overwhelmed."
"And happy?"
"Very happy," I said. I stood on my toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. His eyes brightened even more.
"Well," he said. "Well . . ." His eyes watered. "I guess I'll go see what Daphne is up to. Enjoy your studio and paint wonderful pictures here," he added, and walked off.
I stood there in awe of it all for a few moments. The room had a nice view of the sprawling oak trees and garden. It faced west so I could paint the sun on the final leg of its journey. Twilight was always magnificent for me in the bayou. I had high hopes that it would be just as magnificent here as well, for I believed that the things I carried in my heart and in my soul would be with me no matter where I was, where I lived, and what I looked at through my windows. My pictures were inside me, just waiting to be brought out.
After what I thought was only a short while later, I left the studio and hurried up to Gisselle's room. I knocked on the door.
"Well, it's about time," she said, pulling me in quickly and closing the door. "We don't have all that much time to plan. The boys will be here in twenty minutes."
"I don't think I can do this, Gisselle," I moaned.
"Of course you can," she said. "We'll be sitting around the table at the pool when they arrive. We'll have bottles of Coke and glasses for everyone, with ice. As soon as they approach, you introduce me to Martin. Just say I want you to meet my sister, Ruby. Then, you'll take this out from under the table and pour globs of it into the Coke," she said, and plucked a bottle of rum out of a straw basket. "Make sure you pour at least this much into every glass," she added, holding up her thumb and forefinger a good two inches apart. "Once Beau sees you do that, he'll be convinced you're me," she quipped.
"Then what?"
"Then . . . whatever happens, happens. What's the matter?" she snapped, pulling herself back. "Don't you want to pretend you're me?"
"It's not that I don't want to," I said.
"So? What is it?"
"I just don't think I can be you," I said.
"Why not?" she demanded, her eyes darkening and her eyelids narrowing into slits of anger.
"I don't know enough," I replied. That pleased her and she relaxed her shoulders.
"Just don't talk much. Drink and whenever Beau says something, nod and smile. I know I can be you," she added. And then in a voice that was supposed to be imitative, she said, "I just can't believe I'm here. The food is sooo good, the house is sooo big and I'm sleepin' in a real bed without mosquitos and mud."
She laughed. Was I really like that in her eyes?
"Stop being so serious," she demanded when I didn't laugh at her mockery of me. She dropped the bottle of rum into the basket. "Come on," she said, picking it up and seizing my hand. "Let's go tease some stuck-up Creole boys until they beg for mercy."
Trailing along like a kite on a string, I followed my sister out and down the stairs, my heart thumping, my mind in a turmoil. I had never had a day packed with so much excitement. I couldn't begin to imagine what the night would bring.