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"He's become a vegetable," I said. "Won't you reconsider and put him back in his own room?"

She sat back and stared at me a moment. "I'll make you a trade," she said.

"Trade?" What could I possibly have that she wanted? I wondered.

"I'll move Jean back into private quarters if you convince Gisselle to return to Greenwood. I don't want her in my hair during this particularly difficult period."

"She won't listen to me," I moaned. "She hates the restrictions and the rules."

Daphne gazed down at her paperwork again.

"That's my offer," she said coldly. "Find a way."

I stood there for a moment. Why should Uncle Jean's welfare be tied to Gisselle's selfish wishes? How could anything be more unfair? More pessimistic than a nutria locked in the jaws of an alligator, I lowered my head and left her, never missing Daddy more.

I spent the remainder of Christmas Day in my art studio, working on the drawing and painting for Miss Stevens. The studio and my artistic work was the only refuge in this house of deceit. I had chosen to draw the view from my studio, to capture the sprawling oak tree and the gardens. I decided to have a red-winged blackbird strutting proudly on the wall in the background. It was good to lose myself in my work. While I painted I played Louis's symphony, and I didn't hear Bruce come in behind me.

"Ah, so here is where La Ruby hides herself," he said. I spun around. He stood there with his hands on his hips, looking over the studio and nodding. He had changed into a pair of dark gray wool slacks and a shirt made of the softest white Egyptian cotton. "Very nice. And that looks like it's going to be a pretty picture," he said, gazing at my easel.

"It's too soon to tell," I replied modestly.

"Well, I'm no art critic, but I know the value of good art on the market, of course." He focused his gaze intently on me for a moment and then smiled and stepped closer. "I was hoping to have a short tete-atete with both you and Gisselle today. I've already spoken to your sister, who has begged me to use my influence with Daphne to permit her to remain and return to public school here in New Orleans. Apparently, if I win her that favor, she will accept me into the family with open arms.

"And now," he said, inching toward me, "what can I do to win the same acceptance from you?"

"I have no requests for anything for myself, but if you want to do something to please me, get Daphne to move Uncle Jean back into his private room."

"Ah ha, a selfless demand. You are what you seem to be after all, aren't you, La Ruby? . . . A spotless jewel, genuine, virtuous. Are you as innocent as you appear, as innocent as the flowers and animals in your pictures?"

"I'm no angel, Bruce, but I don't like to see anyone in unnecessary pain, and that's what Uncle Jean is in right now. If you want to do something good, help him."

He smiled and reached out to touch my hair. I cringed and started to step back, but he put his hand on my arm just above the elbow.

"You and Gisselle are twins," he said in a voice barely above a whisper, "but a man would have to be blind not to see the differences. I'd like to be someone you can love and trust. You know, I've always admired you, La Ruby. But you've been tossed from one world to another, and just when you needed a true guardian, you lost him. Will you let me be your guardian, your protector and champion? I'm a man of great taste. I can make you into the princess you deserve to be. Trust me," he said, raising his hand to my shoulder. He was so close I could see the tiny beads of sweat over his upper lip and smell the aroma of the last cigar he smoked. He held me firmly in his grasp and then brought his lips to my forehead. I heard him inhale as he took in the scent of my hair. I let him embrace me, but I didn't return his affection.

"That's all right," he said, feeling my stiffness and stepping back. "I don't blame you for being cautious. I'm the new man in your life and you don't really know all that much about me. But I intend to spend as much time with you as you will permit so we can get to know each other as intimately as possible. Will that be all right?"

"You're my stepmother's new husband-to-be," I said, as if that were enough of an answer.

He nodded. "I'll speak to Daphne. Maybe I can find a sensible financial arrangement and get her to do what you want. I can't make promises, but I'll try for you."

"Thank you."

"La Ruby," he said with that deep, licentious smile on his lips. He looked around again. "You have a nice hideaway. After I've married Daphne, perhaps you will let me share it with you from time to time, n'est-ce pas?"

I nodded, even though I detested the thought.

"Good," he said. "We're going to be a wonderful family, even more highly respected than we are now, and you and your sister will be the creme de la creme of New Orleans. That's a promise," he said. "I'll let you go back to your wonderful work. We'll speak later."

I watched him leave and then sat down because my heart was still thumping so hard, I thought I might faint.

Despite Bruce's promise, nothing more was said about Uncle Jean during the days between Christmas and New Year's Eve. Feeling trapped by Daphne's offer, I tried on a number of occasions to get Gisselle to reconsider her demand to remain in New Orleans.

"You've made new friends, and they all look up to you and depend on you now," I told her just before we were about to go to sleep. It was the night before New Year's Eve. "You're their leader."

"You can have that honor," she replied.

"But think of what you can do now that you'll be walking. And there's the Valentine's dance coming up too."