'No, Jeanne. We're not lying. Remember when you came to me and we had that nice talk before you got married? Remember how you weren't sure you should marry James?'
Her eyes widened and then narrowed. 'Ruby could have told you.'
I shook my head. 'No. Listen. . .'
'But even if you are Ruby, I don't know how you could have hurt my brother like you did.'
'Jeanne, you don't understand everything. I never meant to hurt Paul, never. I did love him.'
'How can you say that with him right here?' she asked, nodding at Beau.
'Paul and I had a different sort of love, Jeanne.'
She studied me with such intensity, I felt her eyes inside me, don't know. I just don't know what to believe,' she said. And then her eyes turned crystal-hard. 'But I came here to tell you that if you are Ruby and you did all this, I feel sorry for you.'
'Jeanne!'
She turned and left quickly.
'You see,' Beau said, smiling. 'She has doubts now. She knows in her heart you are Ruby.'
'I hope so,' I said. 'But I feel so terrible. I should have realized how many people I would hurt.'
Beau held me tightly and I took a deep breath. He got me a glass of water, and as I was drinking it, Monsieur Polk returned, looking even more despondent.
'What is it?' Beau asked.
'I've just gotten some bad news,' he said. 'They have a surprise witness.'
'What? Who?' I asked, my mind searching through the possibilities.
'I don't know who it is yet,' he said. 'But I was told he could nail it down for them. Is there anything else you two haven't told me?'
'No, Monsieur,' Beau said. 'Absolutely nothing has been deliberately withheld. And everything we've told you is the truth.'
He nodded, skeptically. 'It's time to return,' he said.
It was even more difficult to return to the courtroom than it was to first enter it. I felt like a specimen under a microscope. Everyone's gaze followed me down to the front of the courtroom, and people near us covered their mouths to whisper. It made me flush with a wave of heat that rose up my legs and over my face. Every old friend of Grandmere Catherine's was studying my every move, searching gestures for evidence to confirm my identity. The air was thick with their questions. Were Beau and I trying to pull off some scam? Or was our tale the truth?
We took our seats. Gladys Tate was already seated, steely-faced. Octavious sat staring blankly ahead. Jeanne whispered something to Toby, and Paul's sisters gazed at me angrily. A few moments later, Judge Barrow returned and the courtroom grew still.
'Monsieur Polk,' he said. 'Are you ready to continue?'
'Yes, Your Honor.' Our attorney rose with the documents he had prepared for us to sign concerning the inheritance.
'Your Honor. My clients recognize that their motives for trying to regain custody of Pearl Tate might be misinterpreted. In order to alleviate such misinterpretations, we are prepared to offer the surrender of any and all rights to any spousal inheritance concerning the estate of Paul Marcus Tate.' He stepped forward and brought the documents to the judge, who gazed down at them and then nodded at Monsieur Williams to come forward, too. He looked at the papers.
'We'd have to study these, of course, Your Honor, but,' he said with the confidence of someone who had anticipated our move, 'even if these do prove satisfactory, this doesn't eliminate the possibility of these two impostors getting their clutches on the Tate fortune. The child whom they are trying to get custody of would inherit, and they would naturally be the trustees of that enormous inheritance.'
The judge turned to Monsieur Tate.
'Your Honor, it is the contention of my clients that Pearl Tate's natural father is Beau Andreas. She would have no claims to Monsieur Tate's estate.'
The judge nodded. It was like watching a game of chess being played with real people on the board instead of figurines of knights and queens, pawns and kings. We were the pawns, and to the victor went my darling Pearl.
'Do you have any further exhibits to enter, Monsieur Polk, or any further witnesses?'
'No, Your Honor.'
'Monsieur Williams?'
'We do, Your Honor.'
The judge sat back. Monsieur Polk returned to his seat beside us, and Monsieur Williams went to his desk to confer with his associate for a moment before turning and calling out his witness's name.
'We would like to call Monsieur Bruce Bristow to the stand.'
'Bruce!' I exclaimed. Beau shook his head in astonishment.
'Is this not your stepmother's husband?' Monsieur Polk asked.
'Yes, but . . . we have nothing to do with him anymore,' Beau explained.
The doors opened in the rear and Bruce came sauntering down the aisle, a Cheshire cat's grin on his lips when
