a spectacle. I had them imported from France, you know. And the pool is filled and running. Do you know the stained glass in the Palladian fan window comes from Spain? I paid a fortune for it,' he added without taking a breath.
'Hello Paul,' I said, laughing.
'What? Oh, I'm sorry.' He leaned forward to kiss my cheek. 'I guess I sound a little excited about our house, huh?'
I looked down. I couldn't keep my heart from fluttering every time he said
'Paul . . .'
'Don't say anything,' he said quickly. “Don't come to any conclusions or decisions. Let the house and the grounds speak for themselves.'
I shook my head at him. Would he ever take no for an answer? I imagined that even if I married someone else and lived to be a hundred, he would be coming to my door, waiting for me to change my mind.
We all got into his boat and Paul started the engine again. Pearl laughed as we spun around and into the breeze, some spray raining on our arms and faces. The early spring had brought the hibernating alligators out. They dozed on the mounds and in shallow water, their sleepy eyes barely showing any curiosity as we rushed past them. Here and there clumps of green snakes came apart and then entwined again like threads being woven together under the water. Bullfrogs hopped over lily pads, and nutrias scurried into the safety of shadows and small openings. The swamp, like some giant animal itself, seemed to stretch and yawn and take shape as spring arrived and marched its determined way toward the heat of summer.
'Number three well exploded this morning,' Paul shouted over the roar of the engine. 'It looks like it will produce four, maybe five times what was estimated.'
'That's wonderful, Paul.'
'The future couldn't look brighter, Ruby. We could have anything, do anything, go anywhere . . . Pearl would be a real princess.'
'I don't want her to be a princess, Paul. I want her to be a fine young lady who appreciates the value of important things,' I said curtly. 'I've seen too many people fooled by their own wealth into believing they were happy.'
'It won't be that way for us,' Paul assured me.
Paul's rich acres of oil land and the homesite was southwest of my shack. We wove our way along, passing through canals that were so narrow at times, we could thrust out our arms and touch the shore on either side of the boat. We cut through some brackish ponds and into an entire new web of canals before turning dead south into his property. I hadn't been here since I had left for New Orleans, so when I saw the roof of the great house rising above the sycamores and cypress before us, I was overwhelmed. I felt like Alice being swept off to her own private Wonderland.
Paul had already had a dock built and there was a gravel path from the swamp that led up to the beginning of the house property. I saw the pickup trucks and vehicles that belonged to the workmen who were still hard at their labor, for Paul had put a rush on things and was willing to pay everyone time and a half to get the house completed ahead of schedule. To the east we could see the oil rigs at work.
'I bet you never dreamed the Cajun boy who motored about on his little scooter would own all this,' Paul said proudly, his hands on his hips, his smile stretching from ear to ear. 'Imagine what your Grandmere Catherine would say.'
'Grandmere probably would have expected it,' I replied.
'Probably,' he said, and laughed. 'Whenever she looked at me, I felt she could not only see my thoughts, but my dreams.'
He helped Pearl and me out of the boat.
'I'll carry her,' he offered. Pearl was dazzled by the vastness of the house before us. 'I'd like to call it Cypress Woods,' he said. 'What do you think?'
'Yes, it's a wonderful name. It is overwhelming, Paul. The way it just pops up out of nowhere . . . it's magical.' He beamed a broad smile of pride.
'I told the architect I wanted a house that resembled a Greek temple. It makes the Dumas residence in the Garden District look like a bungalow.'
'Is that what you wanted to do, Paul . . . overshadow my father's home? I told you . . .'
'Don't take me to task just yet, Ruby. What good is anything I have if I can't use it to please and impress you?' he asked. His eyes hardened to rivet on me.
'Oh, Paul.' I wagged my head and took a deep breath.
What could I say to counter his enthusiasm and his dreams?
As we approached the house, it seemed to grow even bigger and bigger before us. Across the upstairs gallery ran a diamond-design iron railing. On both sides of the house, Paul had wings constructed to echo the predominant elements of the main house.
'That's where the servants will live,' he indicated. 'I think it gives everyone more privacy. Most of the walls in this place are twenty-four inches thick. Wait until you see how cool it is in there, even without fans and air- conditioning.'
A short slate stairway took us up to the portico and lower gallery. We walked between the great columns and into the Spanish-tile-floored entryway, a foyer designed to take away the breath of a visitor the moment he or she set foot in this mansion, for it wasn't only vast and long, but the ceiling was so high, our footsteps echoed.
'Think of all the wonderful art you could hang on these huge walls, Ruby,' Paul said.
We passed one spacious and airy room after another, all opening onto the central hallway. Above us hung the chandeliers about which Paul had expressed so much pride. They were dazzling, the teardrop bulbs looking like
