"Open the window," he cried.

I walked toward him slowly and undid the latch.

"Pauline told me you were back. Why didn't you call?" he asked, and started to crawl in through the window. I stepped back amazed, but too shocked and confused to speak. As soon as he was in, he reached out to take my shoulders and bring me to him to kiss me passionately on the lips, twisting and turning his head and jetting out his tongue. I gasped and pulled out of his grip.

"What's wrong?" he demanded. He smirked. "Did Pauline tell you something? Because if she did, it wasn't true. Helaine Delmarco was here for only a couple of days, and her parents and my parents are like relatives. I think of her the way you would think of your sister."

"Pauline didn't tell me anything," I said.

"Oh." He heard Pearl mumble some of her baby gibberish and looked around the corner of the settee to see her seated on the floor. "Who's that?"

"My sister's child. It's the reason we returned so quickly. My sister became very sick. She's in the hospital. I'm looking after her baby."

"No kidding? You? Volunteered?"

"I didn't exactly volunteer."

"No," he said, laughing. "I guess you wouldn't. So that's it. All right. I forgive you, then." He started toward me again. "What's wrong?" he asked when I retreated a step. He smiled. "I watched and waited to be sure Beau was gone for a while. Where did he go, to the office?"

"No, he's coming back soon," I said.

"Oh. Too bad," he muttered with disappointment. "I thought we'd make up for lost time, especially in here. We had a good time in here once, didn't we?" he said, gazing around with a lascivious smile washed across his face. "On this very sofa," he added. "I still don't know why it was so important we do it in here," he added. "In fact, as I recall, it was a little uncomfortable. Not that I'm complaining," he said.

His revelation so amazed me that the expression on my face intrigued him.

"What's the matter? You don't remember? You make love so often in so many places, you forgot?"

"I didn't forget anything," I said sullenly.

He nodded and gazed at Pearl again. "So when will I see you? Can you come up to my apartment later?"

"No," I said quickly, perhaps too quickly. He squinted and continued to study me curiously. My pounding heart brought a hot flush to my face. I knew my cheeks were crimson.

"You're not yourself, for some reason."

"Well, would you be if your twin sister came down with a fatal illness and you were left caring for her child because her husband was too overwhelmed?"

"Fatal? I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was that serious."

"Well, it is," I snapped.

"Why don't you just hire someone to watch her for you?" he asked after a moment.

"I intend to, but not right away. I've got to pretend I care at least," I said.

"She's a pretty little girl," he said, gazing at Pearl again. "But little kids are little kids." He stepped toward me again, his eyes soft, demanding, his lips folded into an impish smile. "I missed you. Didn't you miss me?"

"I miss my freedom," I replied.

He didn't like the response and grimaced. "You weren't so indifferent the night before you left. You were moaning so loud, I thought I'd have problems with my neighbors."

"Is that so?" I said indignantly. "Well, you don't have to worry about the neighbors anymore. I'll do my moaning at home," I added with my hands on my hips in Gisselle's way and my head wagging.

"What?"

"You heard me." My voice took on the steely edge of a razor. "Now, leave before Beau comes back and you have to explain your injuries to your parents."

"Huh?" He shook his head. "Looks like you're the one with the fatal illness, not your sister."

"Would you get out of here?" I demanded, and pointed to the window.

He stood there and then smiled at me. "You'll change your mind. You'll get bored and call. I know you will."

"Don't hold your breath."

My reaction confused him. I could see him struggling to understand. A theory flashed. "You're seeing someone else on the side, aren't you?" he accused. "Who is it? Kurt Peters? No, you wouldn't sleep with Kurt. He's not wild enough for you. I know, Henry Martin, right?

"It's Henry, isn't it?" He nodded, convincing himself. "I should have realized that would happen when you told me you thought he was cute. How is he? Is he as exciting in bed as I am?"

"I'm not sleeping with anyone but Beau," I said, and he threw his head back and laughed.

"You? Stay with only one man? Don't make me laugh. Oh well," he said, shrugging with an air of indifference. "We had a good fling. Carey Littlefield told me not to expect too much for too long. So, as you see, dear Gisselle, your reputation precedes you. The only one who seems oblivious about it is your darling Beau Andreas. Or maybe he's not as oblivious as you think. Maybe he, too, has found other distractions."

"Get out!" I shouted, and pointed to the window.

"I'm going. Don't worry." He looked at Pearl again. She was staring up with confusion and some fear in her face because I had raised my voice. "You better get someone to take care of that child soon, before you ruin her," he said, and headed for the window. "Au revoir, Gisselle. I shall never forget the way you squealed when I kissed that little beauty mark under your breast," he added, and laughed as he crawled out the window. He waved and was off as quickly as he had appeared. Only then did I release the air I had been holding in my lungs. I reached back to find the settee and sat hard.

My sister had been having affairs with other men after she had married Beau. Apparently he didn't know, because he hadn't said anything to me. How many more men would come sneaking around the house or calling? I had been lucky this time, but the next man might be more perceptive.

I should have realized Gisselle would have been involved with other men, I thought. She married Beau only as a way to get at me, to flaunt him. Even when she was going with him in high school, she was seeing other boys on the side. Whoever that man was who had just been here, he was right. One man was never enough for Gisselle. She was always thinking about what she was missing.

I could never be like that, I thought. Her friends would soon be chattering about how different she had suddenly become. I hoped they weren't smart enough to figure out why.

I regained my composure and continued to work on my studio. A little more than an hour later, Beau called to say he would be returning for lunch after all.

"Good," I said. He heard the tension in my voice. "Anything wrong?"

"I had a visitor."

"Oh? Who?"

"One of Gisselle's secret lovers," I revealed. He was silent a moment.

"I should have prepared you for that," he admitted.

"You knew?"

"Let's say I had some strong suspicions."

"Then why didn't you tell me, prepare me?" I demanded. His silence reconfirmed my theory. "You were worried I wouldn't go through with doing this, weren't you?"

"A little."

"You should have told me, Beau. It could have been a big problem."

"I know. I'm sorry. What did you do? How did it go? You didn't . . ."

"Of course not. I acted annoyed about everything and drove him off. He accused me of sleeping with someone else. I don't even know his name."

"What did he look like?"

I described him quickly and Beau laughed.

"George Denning. No wonder he was so nice to me all the time." He laughed again. "I would have thought she would have chosen someone better-looking."

"Doesn't it bother you to learn this now, Beau, and confirm your suspicions?"

"No," he said. "Because now that I have you, there is no longer any past. There is only the present and the future," he said.

"Beau," I asked before he could end the conversation, "were you seeing other women, too?"

"Yes," he admitted. "You. Remember?"

"I meant . . . other women."

"No. My mind, my eyes, my soul, were fixed only on you, Ruby."

"Come home, Beau. I'm a bit shaken."

"All right. I'll hurry," he said, and hung up.

We had met all the challenges and tests so far, I thought, but I was sure they would continue to come at me hard and heavy. I threw myself back into my work and kept busy so as not to worry, but at lunch Beau revealed we had to prepare for the biggest challenge of all.

"My parents," he announced. "They're returning from their European holiday trip in two days. We'll have to go there for dinner."

"Oh, Beau, they'll surely see the differences and know, and you remember how much they disliked me, thanks to Daphne," I reminded him.

"They won't be any more perceptive than anyone else," he assured me. "The fact is, they didn't see much of us after we were married. Gisselle wasn't very fond of my mother, and my father was too serious and too proper for her. They made her uncomfortable. I could count on my fingers how many times we were together. Whenever we were together, Gisselle was usually sullen and quiet. And we won't have to see them that often," he added, but I was still quite nervous about meeting them as Gisselle.

That afternoon we met with the candidates for butler, maid, and cook. The butler was a proper Englishman, about five feet seven with thin, gray hair and hazel eyes. He wore thick-rimmed glasses, which kept falling down the bridge of his bony nose, but he was a pleasant man who had obviously worked for many fine families. His name was Aubrey Renner and he had a warm, friendly smile.

The maid's name was Sally Petersen. She was a tall, thin woman in her mid-forties with a long face that had eyes as big as half dollars and a thin nose that dipped over her pencil-thin mouth. I saw that being a maid was a profession to her, not a job. She appeared to me to be a very responsible person, a bit hard, but efficient.