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He stared at me, his mouth open, his eyes wide. "Start eating," Lyle said. "Pretend it's business

as usual."

I did as he advised and Uncle Jean did appear to

relax. He lifted his fork, but continued to stare at me

instead of continuing to eat. I smiled at him. "I lived with my grandmere Catherine all my

life," I told him. "My mother died shortly after I was

born. I never knew who my real father was until recently and I promised my grandmere Catherine I

would go to him after she died.

"You can't imagine how surprised everyone

was," I said. He started to smile.

"Terrific," Lyle whispered. "He likes you." "Does he?"

"I can tell. Keep talking," he commanded in a

whisper.

"I tried to adjust, to learn how to be a proper

young Creole lady, but Gisselle was very jealous of

me. She thought I stole her boyfriend and she plotted

against me."

"Did you?" Lyle asked.

"Did I what?"

"Steal her boyfriend?"

"No. At least I didn't set out to do anything like

that," I said.

"But he liked you more than he liked her?" Lyle

pursued.

"It was her own fault. I don't know how anyone

could like her. She lies; she likes to see people suffer,

and she'll deceive anyone, even herself."

"She sounds like she's the one who belongs in

here," he said.

I turned back to Uncle Jean.