door. I knocked gently.
'Louis?'
I heard no response but tried the handle anyway. The door opened, and I looked in on a beautiful, spacious bedroom with a grand canopy bed, the mosquito netting draped around it. The room had a damp, fecund odor, and I saw that the flowers in the vases were all dead. Two small lamps that looked like antique oil lamps were lit. They were on the night stands and threw just enough illumination to outline what looked like someone lying in the bed, but on closer inspection, I saw it was just a woman's nightgown laid out for someone's use.
I was about to close the door when suddenly, an adjoining door on the right was thrust open and Louis appeared. I wanted to call to him but he groaned deeply and slammed his fists into his eyes, falling to his knees at the same time. The act took away my breath. I stood trembling in the doorway. He wrapped his arms around himself and swayed for a moment, then he clawed at the door jamb and pulled himself into a standing position. Head down, he turned and closed the door. I waited a moment, looked over the bedroom once again, and then stepped back and closed the door softly.
Practically tiptoeing, I made my way back to the center of the house and finally to the sitting room in which we had had our tea. Mrs. Clairborne was in her chair, staring up at the portrait of her husband.
'Excuse me,' I said. She turned slowly. I thought I saw tears winding down her pale cheeks. 'Louis said he was tired and went to his room.'
'Oh. Fine,' she said, rising. 'Your driver is waiting outside to take you back to your dorm.'
'Thank you again for dinner,' I said.
Otis appeared at the door as if he'd popped out of thin air and opened it for me.
'Good night, mademoiselle,' he said, bowing.
'Good night.'
I hurried out and down the steps to the car. Buck hopped out quickly and opened the door.
'Have a good time?' he asked.
I didn't respond. I got in and he closed the door. As we drove off, I looked back at the mansion. Louis and his grandmother were about as rich and as powerful as any family I had known or would know, I thought, but that didn't mean that unhappiness stopped outside their door.
How I wished Grandmere Catherine were still alive. I would bring her up here secretly one night, and she would touch Louis and he would see again and put aside all his sadness. Years later, I would attend a concert in some magnificent hall to listen to him play. Before it was over, he would stand up and announce that the next piece was something he had written for someone special.
'It's called 'Ruby,'' he would say, and then he would begin and I would feel like someone who walked in the spotlights.
Grandmere would say it was all wishful thinking, dreams as thin as soap bubbles. But then she would shake her head sadly and add, 'At least you can have dreams. That boy . . . he lives in a house without any dreams at all. He truly lives in darkness.'
7
So Many Rules
As she had promised, Mrs. Penny was waiting for me in the lobby of the dorm when I arrived. She jumped out of her chair and came rushing to greet me, her eyes full of excitement and expectation.
'How was your dinner?' she cried.
'It was very nice, Mrs. Penny,' I said, looking over her shoulder at the girls from the A and B quads who were watching television. Most had turned my way curiously.
'Just nice?' she asked, with disappointment. She looked like a little girl who had been told she couldn't have any ice cream. I knew she wanted a list of superlatives from me, a flood of adjectives, but I wasn't in the mood. She lit up again with a new question: 'What did Mrs. Clairborne serve?'
'A shrimp dish,' I replied, without mentioning the Cajun recipe. 'Oh, and an orange creme brulee for dessert,' I added. That pleased her.
'I was hoping she would do something special. What did you do afterward? Did you sit and talk in the same sitting room in which we had tea, or did you go on to one of the glass-domed patios?'
'I listened to Louis play the piano. He grew tired and I came back,' I summarized.
She nodded. 'It was an honor,' she said, still nodding 'a very high honor. You should be proud of yourself.'
For being invited to a dinner? Why wasn't it more of an honor to paint a beautiful picture or get high marks on a school test? I wanted to ask, but I simply smiled back instead and excused myself.
Gisselle, surrounded by Samantha, Kate, and Jacki, was holding court in the lounge when I arrived. From the pink flush in all the girls' faces, I imagined Gisselle had been describing one of her sexual exploits back in New Orleans. They all turned with some disappointment at my interruption, but I had no intention of joining them.
'Well, look who's back,' Gisselle quipped, 'the princess of Greenwood.'
Everyone laughed.
'How was your evening, princess?'
'Why don't you stop making an ass of yourself, Gisselle,' I retorted.
'Oh. I'm sorry, princess. I didn't mean to offend your royal bosom,' she continued, the laughter of her r club
