Page 31

My eyes filled with tears as I thought about Uncle Jean lost and alone.

"And who do we have here?" we heard, and turned to see Paul come out of the house.

"Well, if it isn't my wealthy brother, or is it brother-in-law?" Gisselle quipped.

Paul turned crimson and shifted his eyes to me. "What's wrong, Ruby?" he asked instantly.

"I just learned that my uncle Jean committed suicide in the institution."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't I get a kiss hello?" Gisselle asked.

"Sure." He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, only she turned her face quickly so his lips met hers. Surprised, he stood back. Gisselle laughed.

"When did this suicide happen?" Paul asked.

"Forget about that. I don't want to dwell on bad news," Gisselle said, and twisted her shoulder. "Ruby was just explaining your special marriage

arrangement," she teased. Her licentious smile made both Paul and me feel guilty.

"Gisselle, stop it."

"Oh, don't be so sensitive. Besides, what do I care what you two do?" She looked out toward the fields. "Did you see two young, wealthy Creoles wandering about your oil wells?"

"Who?"

"Gisselle's boyfriends," I said dryly.

"Oh. No."

"Maybe they fell into some swamp," she said, and laughed. Then she got up and put her arm through Paul's. "Why don't you show me around your grounds and your oil fields," she said.

"Of course."

"Are you staying for dinner, Gisselle?" I asked.

"How do I know? If I'm bored, leave. If not, I'll stay," she said, winking. "Come along, Mr. Oil Baron."

Paul looked at me helplessly. "You know what I think you would really enjoy, Gisselle, a ride through the swamps. She can get a better view of things that way anyway, can't she, Ruby?"

"What? Oh yes," I said in an empty voice. My mind was still fixed on poor Uncle Jean.

"Not me. I'm not going into the swamps. Where are those idiots?" she said, gazing over the grounds. We saw them walking back from the pool. "Darby, Henry," she shouted. "Get back here."

They broke out in a jog as if she held them on a long, invisible leash. When they arrived, she introduced them to Paul and the three of them started to talk about the oil wells, Paul explaining how one is drilled and capped. Gisselle grew bored quickly.

"Aren't there any places to go around here . . . you know, for dancing or something?"

"There's a lounge nearby that has a great zydeco band," Paul said. "Ruby and I go often to listen."

"I don't think that's for us," Gisselle

complained.

"How about a clean restaurant?"

"We have a wonderful cook. You're all welcome to stay for dinner," Paul said.