than I.
'Good morning,.' I said.
'Mornin'. You're the new girl who looks just like Gisselle?' she asked.
'Yes. My name's Ruby.'
'I'm Wendy Williams,' she said. She scooped up Gisselle's things, her eyes glued to me, and then walked away.
I started down the corridor to the kitchen, but when I reached the dining room, I saw my father already seated at the long table. He was sipping coffee and reading the business section of the newspaper. The moment he saw me, he looked up and smiled.
'Good morning. Come on in and sit down,' he called. It was a very big dining room, almost as big as a Cajun meeting hall, I thought. Above the long table hung a shoo-fly, a great, wide fan unfurled at dinnertime and pulled to and fro by a servant to provide a breeze and do what it was named for: shoo away flies . . . I imagined it was there just for decoration. I had seen them before in rich Cajun homes where they had electric fans.
'Here, sit down,' my father said, tapping the place on his left. 'From now on, this is your seat. Gisselle sits here on my right and Daphne sits at the other end.'
'She sits so far away,' I remarked, gazing down the length of the rich, cherry wood table, polished so much I could see my face reflected in its surface. My father laughed.
'Yes, but that's the way Daphne likes it. Or should I say, that's the proper seating arrangement. So, how did you sleep?' he asked as I took my seat.
'Wonderfully. It's the most comfortable bed I've ever been in. I felt like I was sleeping on a cloud!'
He smiled.
'Gisselle wants me to buy her a new mattress. She claims hers is too hard, but if I get one any softer, she'll sink to the floor,' he added, and we both laughed. I wondered if he had heard her come in and knew she had just returned from the ball. 'Hungry?'
'Yes,' I said. My stomach was rumbling. He hit a bell and Edgar appeared from the kitchen.
'You've met Edgar, correct?' he asked.
'Oh, yes. Good morning, Edgar,' I said. He bowed
'Good morning, mademoiselle.'
'Edgar, have Nina prepare some of her blueberry pancakes for Mademoiselle Ruby, please. You'd like that, I expect?'
'Yes, thank you,' I said. My father nodded toward Edgar. 'Very good, sir,' Edgar said, and smiled at me.
'Some orange juice? It's freshly squeezed,' my father said, reaching for the pitcher.
'Yes, thank you.'
'I don't think Daphne needs to worry about your manners. Grandmere Catherine did a fine job,' he complimented. I couldn't help but shift my eyes away for a moment at the mention of Grandmere. 'I bet you miss her a great deal.'
'Yes, I do.'
'No one can replace someone you love, but I hope I can fill some of the emptiness I know is in your heart,' he said. 'Well,' he continued, sitting back, 'Daphne is going to sleep late this morning, too.' He winked. 'And we know Gisselle will sleep away most of the day. Daphne says she'll take you shopping midafternoon. So that leaves just the two of us to spend the morning and lunch. How would you like me to show you around the city a bit?'
'I'd love it. Thank you,' I said.
After breakfast, we got into his Rolls Royce and drove down the long driveway. I had never been in so luxurious an automobile before and sat gaping stupidly at the wood trim, running the palm of my hand over the soft leather.
'Do you drive?' my father asked me.
'Oh, no. I haven't even ridden in cars all that much. In the bayou we get around by walking or by poling pirogues.'
'Yes, I remember,' he said, beaming a broad smile my way. 'Gisselle doesn't drive either. She doesn't want to be bothered learning. The truth is she likes being carted around. But if you would like to learn how to drive, I'd be glad to teach you,' he said.
'I would. Thank you.'
He drove on through the Garden District, past many fine homes with grounds just as beautiful as ours, some with oleander-lined pike fences. There were fewer clouds now which meant the streets and beautiful flowers had fewer shadows looming over them. Sidewalks and tiled patios glittered. Here and there the gutters were full of pink and white camellias from the previous night's rain.
'Some of these houses date back to the eighteen-forties,' my father told me and leaned over to point to a house on our right. 'Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederacy, died in that house in 1899. There's a lot of history here,' he said proudly.
We made a turn and paused as the olive green streetcar rattled past the palm trees on the esplanade. Then we followed St. Charles back toward the inner city.
'I'm glad we had this opportunity to be alone for a while,' he said. 'Besides my showing you the city, it gives me a chance to get to know you and you a chance to get to know me. It took a great deal of courage for you to come to me,' he said. The look on my face confirmed his suspicion. He cleared his throat and continued.
'It will be hard for me to talk about your mother when someone else is around, especially Daphne. I think you
