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?"
"I'd save a little to keep myself in champagne," Darby quipped, and they all laughed.
"This house . . . I must confess, Ruby," Gisselle said, stepping back, "I had no idea. You are rich even before you inherit your share of our trust. Can you imagine how wealthy my twin sister is going to be, Henry?"
He nodded, gazing around.
"Wealthy," he admitted.
"Brilliant. Henry's working on his doctorate in brain surgery," she said, and Darby laughed. "Well, are you going to show us around or do we have to stand out here all day in the swamp heat?" she demanded.
"Of course, I'll show you around."
"Is it all right to leave the car right here?" Henry asked me.
"Why isn't it?" Gisselle snapped before I had a chance. "What do you think she has, valet parking?" She laughed and threaded her arm through Darby's. "The tour, madame," she said.
"You haven't changed one iota, Gisselle," I said, shaking my head.
"Why should I? I was always perfect. Right, Darby?" "Right," he said obediently.
I opened the door and led them into the house.
"Daphne would bust a gut if she saw how well you've done for yourself, dear sister," Gisselle said as she gazed at the grand entryway, my paintings and small statues, the long marble floors and grand stairway. She whistled at the elegant furnishings in the living room and den, but her sarcastic attitude dwindled to a quiet look of awe as I took them through the rest of the downstairs and they saw the large pictures, the expensive lamps and chandeliers, the enormous kitchen and dining room with a table that could seat twenty comfortably.
"This beats anything I've seen in the Garden District," Henry confessed.
"You haven't seen everything in the Garden District," Gisselle spit, and
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?"
"I'd save a little to keep myself in champagne," Darby quipped, and they all laughed.
"This house . . . I must confess, Ruby," Gisselle said, stepping back, "I had no idea. You are rich even before you inherit your share of our trust. Can you imagine how wealthy my twin sister is going to be, Henry?"
He nodded, gazing around.
"Wealthy," he admitted.
"Brilliant. Henry's working on his doctorate in brain surgery," she said, and Darby laughed. "Well, are you going to show us around or do we have to stand out here all day in the swamp heat?" she demanded.
"Of course, I'll show you around."
"Is it all right to leave the car right here?" Henry asked me.
"Why isn't it?" Gisselle snapped before I had a chance. "What do you think she has, valet parking?" She laughed and threaded her arm through Darby's. "The tour, madame," she said.
"You haven't changed one iota, Gisselle," I said, shaking my head.
"Why should I? I was always perfect. Right, Darby?" "Right," he said obediently.
I opened the door and led them into the house.
"Daphne would bust a gut if she saw how well you've done for yourself, dear sister," Gisselle said as she gazed at the grand entryway, my paintings and small statues, the long marble floors and grand stairway. She whistled at the elegant furnishings in the living room and den, but her sarcastic attitude dwindled to a quiet look of awe as I took them through the rest of the downstairs and they saw the large pictures, the expensive lamps and chandeliers, the enormous kitchen and dining room with a table that could seat twenty comfortably.
"This beats anything I've seen in the Garden District," Henry confessed.
"You haven't seen everything in the Garden District," Gisselle spit, and
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