'Oh. Don't you have a maid, too?'
'All of my servants will be at your beck and call,' I assured her. She smirked and started up the stairway.
'It is a beautiful house in a beautiful location,' Beau said.
We stared at each other for a moment, silence thicker than fog coming between us.
'Let me bring you to . . . Pearl,' I said softly. His eyes brightened with anticipation. I led him out to the patio, where Mrs. Flemming had Pearl playing in a playpen.
'Mrs. Flemming, this is my brother-in-law, Beau Andreas,' I said quickly.
'How do you do?' Beau extended his hand, his eyes really riveted on Pearl.
'Pleased to meet you,' Mrs. Flemming said.
'And this is Pearl,' I murmured. He was already moving toward her. He knelt down by the playpen, and she stopped fiddling with her toy to look into his face. Could one so tiny and young recognize her true father? Did she see something in his eyes, something of herself instantly? Unlike her curious look at other people that usually died in a flash, she studied Beau and formed a tiny smile on her diminutive lips, and when he reached over to lift her out of the playpen, she didn't cry. He kissed her cheek and hair, and she reached out to touch his hair and his face as if she wanted to be sure he wasn't a dream.
I couldn't keep the tears from filling my eyes, but I blinked them back before they could spill over my lids. Beau turned toward me, his face radiant.
'She's beautiful,' he whispered. I bit down on my lower lip and nodded. Then I gazed at Mrs. Flemming, who was staring with great interest, a faint smile in her face. Her age and her wisdom were giving her signals that confused and intrigued her, I was sure.
'She likes you a great deal, monsieur,' Mrs. Flemming said.
'I have a way with young women,' Beau teased, and put Pearl back into her playpen. She began to cry instantly, which brought a look of astonishment to Mrs. Flemming's face.
'Now, behave, Pearl,' I chastised gently. 'I want to show Uncle Beau the house.'
Without another word I led him toward the pool and the cabana.
'Ruby,' he said after we were sufficiently away. 'You did such a wonderful thing. She's more precious than I ever could have imagined. No wonder Paul is so taken with her. She looks just like you.'
'No, she has more of your features,' I insisted. 'Here, as you can see, is our pool. Paul wants to build a tennis court over there next month. We have a dock on the canal over there,' I said, pointing. Only by talking and concentrating on other things could I keep myself from bursting out in tears. But Beau wasn't listening.
'Why didn't I battle with my parents? Why didn't I run away, too? I should have fled to the bayou with you and started a new life.'
'Beau, don't talk foolishness. What would you have done? Sat on the roadside and sold handicrafts with me?'
'I would have gotten an honest man's work. Maybe I would have ended up working for Paul's family or a shrimp fisherman or . . .'
'When there is a baby, a real, live infant, you can't live in a fantasy world,' I said, perhaps too harshly and cruelly. Beau swallowed back his dream words and nodded.
'Yes, you're right. Of course.'
'Do you want to see my studio here?' I asked quickly. 'Very much. Please.'
I led him around to the stairway. As we ascended, I rattled on an on about Paul's businesses, the way some state politicians had been courting him, not only for contributions but for a possible political office someday.
'You're very proud of Paul, aren't you?' Beau said at the entrance to my studio.
'Yes, Beau. He was always a very mature young man, years ahead of others his age, and he is an astute businessman. Most importantly, he is devoted to Pearl and me and would do anything to make us happy,' I said as I opened the door to my studio.
'I've been buying some of your paintings, you know. I keep them in what is now my office,' he said. 'I start every day gazing at something of yours.'
'As you can see,' I said, ignoring his words, 'I have a wonderful view of the canals and the grounds from up here.'
He looked out the window and nodded. 'Now that I see what you look out on every day, I will be able to conjure you more vividly every morning.'
'This is my newest series of work,' I said, pretending I didn't hear these words either. 'My Confederate soldier series.'
Beau studied the pictures. 'They're magnificent,' he said. 'I must have them. The whole series. How much?'
I laughed. 'I'm not finished yet, Beau, and I have no idea what they're going to be worth. Probably a lot less than we imagine.'
'Probably a lot more. When will you take them to New Orleans?'
'Within the month,' I replied.
'Ruby,' he said with such force and emotion, I had to turn to look into his eyes this time. He seized my hands and held them in his. 'I must explain why I married Gisselle. I had to find a way to stay close to you although I had lost you. Despite the way she behaves, she has her quiet, intimate moments when she resembles you more than you can imagine. She's a very frightened and lonely girl who tries to cover it up by acting snobby and by being
