'Oh. Big deal,' she said, smirking and starting to back away.
'It is a big deal. He composed it for me and it's called Ruby's Symphony.'
She stared at me a moment, her face filling with envy.
'Do you want to hear it?' I asked her. 'We'll play it on your phonograph.'
'Of course not,' she said quickly. 'I hate that kind of music. It puts me to sleep.' She started to turn when she spotted my ring. This time her eyes nearly popped out of her head.
'Did he give you that too?'
'Yes,' I said.
'Beau's not going to like this,' she declared after narrowing her eyes. She shook her head. 'Another man giving you expensive gifts.'
'Louis and I are just good friends. He understands that and accepts it,' I said.
'Sure. He goes and spends all this money and time on you, and all you've been giving him is conversation,' she replied with a twisted smile on her lips. 'Who do you think you're talking to, some dumb Cajun girl who believes in tooth fairies?'
'It's true, and don't you tell anyone anything different,' I warned her.
'Or?' she challenged.
'Or I'll . . . break your neck,' I threatened. I stepped toward her and she gazed at me with surprise. Then she backed away.
'Some sister,' she moaned, loud enough for everyone in the quad to hear. 'Threatening her crippled twin with violence. Merry Christmas,' she screamed, spinning around in her chair to wheel herself back to her room.
I couldn't help laughing at her this time, which only infuriated her more. She slammed her door shut and I went into my room to pack for our trip home for the holidays.
The next day we had an abbreviated schedule, at the end of which we were all marched into the auditorium to hear Mrs. Ironwood's speech, which was supposed to be a short holiday talk, wishing us all a good vacation and a happy new year, but instead it turned into a heavy series of threats, warning us about failing to do our term papers and reminding us that shortly after our return we would be facing midyear exams.
But nothing she could do could diminish the excitement in the air. Parents were arriving to pick up their daughters, limousines were everywhere, and wherever I looked, girls were hugging each other and wishing each other happy holidays. Our teachers stood around to greet parents and wish students a good holiday too.
Our limousine was one of the last to arrive, which put Gisselle into a small rage. Mrs. Penny felt obligated to stay with her and comfort her, but that just gave Gisselle an ear to fill with her ranting. Shortly before our limousine did arrive, Miss Stevens appeared to say goodbye and to wish me a happy new year.
'I'm going to spend the holidays with one of the sisters from my old orphanage,' she told me. 'It's something of a tradition. We've spent dozens of Christmases together. She's the closest to being my mother.'
Gisselle watched from the portico of the dorm as Miss Stevens and I hugged and kissed.
'I never thanked you enough for what you did for me at the hearing, Miss Stevens. It took courage.'
'Sometimes doing the right thing does take more courage, but the feeling it gives you deep inside makes it worth it. That may be something only we artists understand,' she said with a wink. 'Do something with your spare time at home. Bring me back a picture of a setting in the Garden District,' she said, getting into her jeep.
'I will.'
'Happy new year, Ruby.'
I watched her drive off and felt a sudden wave of sadness rush over me. I wished I could bring Miss Stevens back home with me. I wished I had a real home with parents who would welcome her happily and we could all enjoy the music, the food, the brightness and warmth of Christmas together.
Her jeep disappeared around the turn just as the limousine appeared. Gisselle cried out her joy, but when the driver pulled up to put our things in the trunk, she berated him unmercifully for being so late.
'I left when Madame Dumas told me to leave,' he protested. 'I'm not late.'
Gisselle's mumbling wore down like the gradually lowering thunder of a departing storm in the bayou as we drove away from the school and headed toward New Orleans. When familiar scenery appeared, she brightened with excitement and expectation. I knew she had made phone calls to some of her old girlfriends and they had begun making preliminary plans for parties over the holidays. I just wondered what sort of greeting Daphne would give us.
To my utter surprise, we didn't find the house dark and deserted. Daphne had had the Christmas decorations hung and there was a tree bigger than last year's in the main sitting room, under which was a pile of gifts. Moments after we had arrived and gazed in at the holiday splendor, the front door was thrust open and Daphne came bursting in with a peal of laughter. She wore a white fox jacket, riding pants, and a smart pair of leather boots. She had her hair pinned up under a matching fur hat. Her full carat diamond earrings glittered in her lobes, adding even more brightness to her undeniably vibrant and beautiful face. Her cheeks were flushed, and I had the feeling that she had been drinking. There was no question that whatever period of mourning she had undergone for Daddy's death was over. Bruce, laughing almost as hard, was at her side. The two stopped in the entryway and looked at Gisselle and me.
'Why here are the little dears,' Daphne said. 'Home for the holidays.' She pulled off her silk gloves and Bruce helped her off with her coat and then handed it to Martha, who waited obediently in the wings. 'And how are the precious Dumas twins?'
'We're fine,' I said sternly. Her buoyancy and happy demeanor annoyed me. This would be a Christmas without Daddy. His passing was still as painful as a raw wound, and yet Daphne behaved as if nothing had changed; if anything had, it was for the better.
