'I'll go see about dinner,' I said. 'Why don't you show everyone into the dining room.'
'I haven't really seen your house, Paul,' Gladys complained.
'Oh. Right. Let me take my mother around first, Ruby.'
'Fine,' I said, happy for the chance to get away. This was going to be harder than I had imagined, I thought.
Letty, as though she knew the deepest, darkest secrets, prepared a meal that was even more special than the first she had prepared for us. Octavious kept saying how jealous he was that his son had a finer cook. For her part Gladys complimented everything properly, but every time she spoke, I sensed a control wound so tight that at any moment it could spring loose and become hysteria. It was as if she might burst out in shrill screams suddenly over the slightest thing. It kept Paul, his father, and me on pins and needles. I was relieved when we had gotten through the dessert, which was a chocolate rum souffle Paul's father said rivaled any he had ever had.
Just as Molly refilled everyone's coffee cup, Mrs. Flemming appeared with Pearl in her arms.
'Isn't she gorgeous, Mom?' Jeanne cried. 'I think she has Paul's eyes, don't you?'
Gladys Tate stared at me a moment and then looked at Pearl. 'She is a pretty child,' she said in a very noncommittal tone of voice.
'Do you want to hold her, madame?' Mrs. Flemming offered. I held my breath. Mrs. Flemming was a Grandmere who knew how much any Grandmere would want to hold and kiss her own grandchild.
'Of course,' Gladys said with a forced smile. Mrs. Flemming brought Pearl to her. She squirmed uncomfortably in her arms, but didn't cry. Gladys Tate stared into her face for a moment and then kissed her quickly on the forehead. She smiled up at Mrs. Flemming and nodded to indicate she wanted her to take her back. Mrs. Flemming's eyes narrowed for a moment and then she hurried forward.
'How does it feel to be a Grandmere, Mom?' Jeanne asked.
Gladys Tate smiled coldly. 'If you mean do I feel any older as a result, Jeanne, the answer is no.' She turned and fixed her gaze on me across the table, and then Paul suggested we all go into the library.
'It's not much yet. Nothing is, but after Ruby and I return from New Orleans, this place is going to be a showcase.'
'Why don't you two tell your mother some of your plans for the house decor,' Octavious suggested. He turned to me. 'Gladys did most of our decorating.'
'Oh, I'd love to get some suggestions,' I said, turning to her.
'I'm not a decorator,' she snapped.
'Now, don't be modest, Gladys,' Octavious said, undaunted. He nodded at me. 'Your mother-in-law knows her way around when it comes to furnishing and decorating expensive houses. Why, I bet she could just walk through this house with you and make suggestions off the top of her head.'
'Octavious!'
'You could, Gladys,' he insisted.
'You two go on,' Paul suggested. 'I'll entertain everyone else in the library.'
Gladys looked enraged for a moment. Then she gazed at her two daughters, who looked puzzled by her reluctance.
'Of course, if Ruby would really like that,' she said reluctantly.
'Please,' I said, my lips trembling.
'Fine,' Paul said, and rose.
'What should we look at first?' I asked Gladys Tate. 'You should do your bedroom first,' Jeanne suggested.
'They have separate bedrooms with an adjoining door. Isn't that like a royal couple, Mother?'
There was a deep moment of silence. Then Gladys smiled and said, 'Yes, it is, dear. Very much so.'
As we walked upstairs and down the hallway, Gladys remained a few inches behind me. She said nothing. My heart was thumping as I searched frantically through my mind for small talk that wouldn't make me sound silly or nervous. I started to talk about the colors I was considering, babbling quickly about color coordination, furniture design, and accent pieces. When we paused in the doorway of my bedroom, she finally looked at me.
'Why did you do it?' she asked in a hoarse whisper. 'Why, when you knew the truth?'
'Paul and I have always been very close, Mother Tate. Once before, I was forced to break Paul's heart so that I could hide the truth from him. You know what it was like for him once he found out,' I said.
'And how do you think it was for me?' she demanded. 'We weren't even married that long before Octavious . . . before he was unfaithful. Of course, your mother wove a spell over him. Catherine Landry's daughter wasn't without mystical powers, I'm sure,' she said.
I swallowed hard. I wanted to defend the mother I had never known, but I saw how Paul's mother had developed this theory to accept her husband's infidelity, and I wasn't about to poke holes in her balloon.
'But what did I do?' she continued. 'I accepted and I covered things up and I made it possible for us to remain respectable and for Paul to grow up protected. Now the two of you . . . go off and . . . It's sinful,' she said, shaking her head, 'just sinful.'
'We're not living together that way, madame. That's why we have separate bedrooms.'
She shook her head, her flinty eyes unrelenting in their condemnation. Then she sighed deeply and took on an expression of self-pity.
'Now I must pretend again, swallow my pride once more and do what I must do so that my children are not
