"I think we're going to become engaged," Jeanne revealed. I knew from the way she spoke that I was the first to learn of it.

"You think?"

"The thought of such a big yes terrifies me!" she exclaimed. I had to laugh. "It's not funny, Ruby. I lay awake nights just tormenting myself over it."

"No, it isn't funny. You're right. I shouldn't laugh."

"What made you finally decide to marry Paul?" she asked.

If she only knew the truth, she wouldn't be so sisterly, I feared.

"I mean, I don't know what love is, really is. I have had crushes on so many boys, and you remember I used to go with Danny Morgan."

"I remember."

"But he became such an . . . an idiot. James is different. James is . . ."

"What? Jeanne," I said.

"Caring and considerate, loving and gentle. We haven't done it yet, you know," she said, blushing. "He wanted to, of course, and so did I, but I just couldn't without being married. I told him that and he understood. He didn't get angry."

"Because he really does care for you and for what makes you happy," I concluded. "That's love or at least the most important part of it. The other things are important, of course, but there doesn't have to be an explosion of bells every time you kiss. What I have learned is that dependability is the soil in which a long and lasting love is planted, Jeanne."

"But surely there was an explosion of bells for you and Paul. The two of you have been in love for so long. I remember when he couldn't wait to finish dinner just so he could get on his motor scooter and ride out to see you, even if it was for just ten minutes. It was like . . . like the sun rose and fell on your face.

"I don't have that intense a feeling for James," she admitted, "so I'm afraid I'm going to make a tragic error if I say yes."

"Some people love too much," I said softly.

"Like Adam loved Eve," she replied, nodding. "He ate of the forbidden fruit after Eve had just so he wouldn't lose her. That's what Father Rush told me once."

"Yes, like Adam, then," I said, smiling.

"But that made the story so romantic for me. I want my marriage to be romantic, as romantic as yours is," she said. "And yours is, isn't it, Ruby?"

I stared at her. Was it only her youth that prevented her from seeing the truth in my eyes or was it my own ability to mask reality? I smiled softly.

"Yes, Jeanne, but it doesn't happen overnight, and from the way you speak of James and from what you tell me of him, it sounds like you will have happiness together."

"Oh, I'm so glad you said that!" she exclaimed. "For I value your opinion more than anyone's, even more than Mother's, and certainly more than Toby's."

"I wish you would speak to your mother first," I said. "I don't want to be the one who convinces you of doing something. You have to convince yourself."

In the back of my mind, I could see Gladys Tate hating me for giving intimate advice to her daughter.

"Don't worry, silly," she said. "I am convinced. I just needed to be sure. You were once just as insecure, weren't you?"

"Yes," I confessed.

"You never talk about your life in New Orleans. Did you have many boyfriends there or when you went to private school?"

"No, not many," I said, and looked away quickly. She was alert enough to catch the shifting of my gaze.

"But there was one?"

"There was . . . no one, really," I said, turning back with a smile. "You know how those rich Creole boys can be. . . . They make you promises just to tempt you to go to bed with them and then they rush off for another conquest."

"Did you?" she asked quickly.

"Did I what?"

"Go to bed with any of them?"

"Jeanne!"

"I'm sorry. I thought I could ask. I thought we could be sisters, better sisters than you and your twin were."

"That wouldn't be hard to do," I said, laughing. I stared at her a moment. "No," I said. "I didn't." I knew if I told her the truth, I would burst into tears myself and this whole wonderful world Paul had created for Pearl and me would come crumbling down around us.

She looked relieved. "Then I'm right to wait until we're married?"

"If it feels right, it's right," I told her. She seemed satisfied for the moment. I was troubled giving advice to anyone when it came to romance and marriage. Who was I to do so?

The next—day, Jeanne came over to announce her engagement to James Pitot. They had set a date. Once Paul heard that, he declared the wedding would be at Cypress Woods if she liked. She gazed at me with the expression of a coconspirator and cried her delight.

"Ruby will help me plan the wedding, won't you, Ruby?"

"Of course," I said.

"Oh, Paul," she said, "you did more than marry the woman you always loved and give us a beautiful little niece. You gave me a wonderful new sister."

We hugged and kissed and I hoped I had said the right things and Jeanne was destined for a good and happy marriage. In any case, we had a great family event to plan. It seemed Paul was right: Our lives would be full of excitement and never dull.

That evening Paul knocked on the adjoining door and came into my bedroom as I was sitting in front of my vanity mirror brushing out my hair. I was already in my nightgown. He was in his light blue silk pajamas, one of the birthday presents I had bought for him.

"I just got off the phone with Dad. He says his home now resembles an army command post. They have already drawn up long lists of guests and started to plan the preliminaries. He swears it's like preparing for battle."

I laughed.

"I wish we could have had a grand wedding," he said. "You deserved nothing less than to be treated like some Cajun princess."

"I am treated that way, Paul."

"Yes, but . . ." His eyes fixed on mine in the mirror. "How has it been for you? I mean . . . are you really happy, Ruby?"

"Yes, Paul. I am."

He nodded and then shifted from a deep, pensive look to a soft, gentle smile. "Anyway, thank you for taking my sisters to your heart so quickly and making them your family, too. They adore you, and Mother. . . Mother has learned to do more than simply accept. I know she respects you now."

I wondered how he could make such a statement. Was he blind to the cold, gray look in his mother's eyes whenever she set them on me or was he so determined to be happy that he ignored it and lived in an illusion himself?

"I hope so, Paul," I said, but not with much conviction.

"She does," he insisted. "Well, good night." He stepped up to me and kissed me softly on the neck. He hadn't kissed me like that since we had married. The warmth of his lips radiated in waves over my shoulders and down to my breasts. I closed my eyes and when I opened them again, I saw him still there, his lips inches from my face.

"Good night," I said in a broken whisper.

"Good night." He turned quickly and left my room.

For a moment I just stared after him. I took a deep breath and got ready for bed.

That night I tossed and turned for hours before finally falling into an exhaustion and sleep.

Three days later the happy bubble that had settled over Cypress Woods was shattered with the arrival of Gisselle. She and two of her boyfriends from her ritzy prep school came speeding up our driveway, the horn of their Cadillac convertible blaring. It brought all the servants and myself to the front window. We thought it was some emergency. James looked at me with surprise.

"It's only my twin sister," I said. "Don't bother yourself, James. I‟ll greet her and show her in."

“Very good, madame," he said, and happily retreated. I went out to the gallery to face them.

It had been some time since Gisselle and I had last set eyes on each other. The two boys she was with were handsome, slim young men, one with dark brown hair and the other quite blond with blue eyes and a very fair complexion. He was the driver. They both wore navy blue blazers with their fraternity emblems embossed in gold on their breast pockets. The dark-haired young man stepped out first and held the door for Gisselle, sweeping himself into a European bow as if she were royalty emerging. The laughter on the lips suggested they had been doing some drinking or maybe smoking pot. I had no reason to expect Gisselle had changed or grown up any since we last saw each other, but I had hoped for some miraculous metamorphosis.

"There she is," she cried as soon as she set her eyes on me. "My dear, darling twin, the mistress of Cypress Woods. I have to admit, sister dear," she said, nodding as she looked around, "you ain't done bad for a Cajun."

The two men laughed, the driver getting out to join them.

"Well, can't you say hello?" Gisselle demanded, her hands on her hips. "We haven't seen each other for a long time. You'd think you'd at least pretend to be pleased."

"Hello, Gisselle," I said dryly.

"What, no sisterly kiss and hug?" She stepped up to me. I shook my head and embraced her. "That's more like it. You should be impressed. We drove all the way up here to visit you and it's a terribly boring ride. Nothing to look at but those shacks on sticks and old shrimp boats rotting along the canals and poor dirty children playing with rusty old tools on their mangy front yards. Right, Darby?" she said, turning to the dark-haired young man. He nodded, his eyes on me.

"Why don't you introduce everyone properly, Gisselle," I said.

She smirked. "Of course, just the way we were taught to do it at Greenwood, huh?" She turned and imitated our etiquette teacher at Greenwood, speaking with nasality. "This is Darby Hennessey, of the filthy rich Hennesseys from the Bank of New Orleans." Darby laughed and bowed. "And this shy, fair-haired young man on my left is Henry Howard. His father is one of Louisiana's most famous and important architects. Either one of these young men wouldn't hesitate to spend his inheritance on me, would you, gentlemen?"