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waste it on Jean, for all I care. Until then, I'm the only

one who makes the decisions about how to spend the

Dumas fortune. I have an expert in these matters," she

said, nodding toward Bruce, "so I don't need to hear

from you. Do you understand? Do you?" she

hammered when I didn't reply.

"No," I said, nailing my feet to the floor in

defiance. "I don't understand how you could do this to poor Uncle Jean, who has no life, who has nothing but

his own troubled mind."

"Good. So you don't understand." She sat back

again. "Whatever," she said, waving her hand. "But

for now, march yourself upstairs and close the door

behind you or I'll call Beau's parents and have them

bring him over here right now to hear what you and he

did," she threatened, "and then punish you twice as

severely."

My eyes burned with the hot tears of anger and

frustration.

"But I have to be at the wake. . . . I should be--

"

"You should listen to what you are told to do,"

she said firmly, punching out the words. She extended

her arm, her forefinger pointing toward the stairway.

"Now march!"

I lowered my head.

"Can't you find some other way to punish me?"

I begged, the tears running down my cheeks. "No. I don't have the time, nor do I have the

energy to sit here and dream up ways to reward you

for insubordination, especially when you are

disobedient under these circumstances. I have a