Ruby

bartered with cotton growers and farmers who harvested the palmetto leaves with which we made the hats and fans. She traded some of her gumbo for split oak so we could make the baskets. Whenever it appeared we were bone-dry and had nothing to offer in return for craft materials, Grandmere reached deeper into her sacred chest and came up with something of value she had either been given as payment for a traiteur mission years before, or something she had been saving just for such a time.

Just at one of these hard periods, the second thing occurred to put vim and vigor into her steps and words. The postman delivered a fancy light blue envelope with a lace design on its edges addressed to me. It came from New Orleans, the return address simply Dominique's.

'Grandmere, I've got a letter from the gallery in New Orleans,' I shouted running into the house. She nodded, holding her breath, her eyes bright with excitement.

'Go on, open it,' she said, slipping into a chair. I sat at the kitchen table while I tore it open and plucked out a cashier's check for two hundred and fifty dollars. There was a note with it.

Congratulations on the sale of one of your pictures. I have some interest in the others and will be contacting you in the near future to see what else you have done since my visit.

Sincerely, Dominique

Grandmere Catherine and I just looked at each other for a moment and then her face lit up with the brightest, broadest smile I had seen her wear for months. She closed her eyes and offered a quick prayer of thanks. I continued to stare incredulously at the cashier's check.

'Grandmere, can this be true? Two hundred and fifty dollars! For one of my paintings!'

'I told you it would happen. I told you,' she said. 'I wonder who bought it. He doesn't say?'

I looked again and shook my head.

'It doesn't matter,' she said. 'Many people will see it now and other well-to-do Creoles will come to Dominique's to look for your work and he will tell them who you are; he will tell them the artist is Ruby Landry,' she added, nodding.

'Now you listen to me, Grandmere,' I said firmly, 'we are going to use this money to live on and not bury in your chest for some future thing for me.'

'Maybe just some of it,' she accepted, 'but most of it has to be put away for you. Some day you will need nicer clothing and shoes and other things, and you will need traveling money, too,' she said with certainty.

'Where am I going, Grandmere?' I asked.

'Away from here. Away from here,' she muttered. 'But for now, let us celebrate. Let's make a shrimp gumbo and a special dessert. I know,' she said, 'we'll make a Kings Cake.' It was one of my favorites: a yeast cake ring with colorful sugar glazes. 'I'll invite Mrs. Thibodeau and Mrs. Livaudis for dinner so I can brag about my granddaughter until they burst with envy. But first we'll go to the bank and cash your check,' she said.

Grandmere's excitement and happiness filled me with joy I hadn't felt in months. I wished that I had someone special with whom to celebrate and thought about Paul. I had seen him only one other time beside church the whole summer and that was when I was in town shopping for some groceries. When I came out of the store, I caught sight of him sitting in his father's car, waiting for him to come out of the bank. He looked my way and I thought he smiled, but at that moment his father appeared and he snapped his head around to face front. Disappointed, I watched him drive off, not looking back once.

Grandmere and I walked to town to cash my check. On the way we stopped at Mrs. Thibodeau's and Mrs. Livaudis's homes to invite them to our dinner of celebration. Then Grandniece began to cook and bake like she hadn't done for months. I helped her prepare and then set the table. She decided to stack the crisp twenty dollar bills at the center of the table with a rubber band around them just to impress her old friends. When they set eyes on it and heard how I had received it, they were astonished. Some people in the bayou worked a whole month for this much money.

'Well, I'm not surprised,' Grandmere said. 'I always knew she would become a famous artist someday.'

'Oh, Grandmere,' I said, embarrassed with all the attention, 'I'm far from a famous artist.'

'Right now you are, but one day you will be famous. Just wait and see,' Grandmere predicted. We served the gumbo and the women got into a discussion about varieties of recipes. There were as many gumbo recipes in the bayou as there were Cajuns, I thought. Listening to Grandmere Catherine and her friends argue over what combination of ingredients was the best and what accounted for the best roux amused me. Their spirited talk became even more so when Grandmere decided to bring out her homemade wine, something she saved for only very special occasions. One glass of it went right to my head. I felt my face turn crimson, but Grandmere and her two friends poured themselves glass after glass as if it were water.

The good food, the wine, and the laughter reminded me of happier times when Grandmere and I would go to community celebrations and gatherings. One of my favorites had always been Flocking the Bride. Each of the women would bring a chicken to start the flock for a newlywed, and there was always lots to eat and drink, and lots of music and dancing. Grandmere Catherine, being a traiteur, was always an honored guest.

After we served the cake and cups of rich, thick Cajun coffee, I told Grandmere to take Mrs. Thibodeau and Mrs. Livaudis out to the galerie. I would clear the table and do the dishes.

'We shouldn't leave the one in whose honor we're celebrating with all the work,' Mrs. Thibodeau said, but I insisted. After I cleaned up, I realized we still had the stack of money on the table. I went out to ask Grandmere where she thought I should put it.

'Just run up and put it in my chest, Ruby dear,' she said. I was surprised. Grandmere Catherine never let me open her chest or rifle through it before. Occasionally, when she opened it, I looked over her shoulder and gazed in at the finely woven linen napkins and handkerchiefs, the silver goblets, and ropes of pearls. I remembered wanting to sift through all the memorabilia, but Grandmere Catherine always kept her chest sacred. I wouldn't dare touch it without her permission.

I hurried away to hide my new fortune. But when I opened the chest, I saw how empty it had become. Gone were the beautiful linens and all but one silver goblet. Grandmere had bartered and pawned much more than I imagined. It broke my heart to see how much of her personal treasure was gone. I knew that every item had had some special value beyond its money value. I knelt down and gazed at what remained: a single string of beads, a bracelet, a few embroidered scarfs, and a pile of documents and pictures, wrapped in rubber bands. The documents included inoculation certificates for me, as well as Grandmere Catherine's grade school diploma, and some old