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"This way," Beau said. He directed me through

the entryway, past one beautiful room after another,

each filled with antiques and expensive French

furniture and paintings. It looked more like a museum

to me than a home.

The kitchen was as large as I expected it would

be with long counters and tables, big sinks, and walls

of cabinets. Everything gleamed. It looked so

immaculate, even the older appliances appeared

brand-new. Wrapping leftovers in cellophane was a

short, plump black woman in a brown cotton dress

with a full white apron. She had her back to us. The strands of her ebony hair were pulled tightly into a thick bun behind her head, but she wore a white kerchief, too. As she worked, she hummed. Beau Andreas knocked on the doorjamb and she spun

around quickly.

"I didn't want to frighten you, Nina," he said. "That'll be the day when you can frighten Nina

Jackson, Monsieur Andreas," she said, nodding. She

had small dark eyes set close to her nose. Her mouth

was small and almost lost in her plump cheeks and

above her round jaw, but she had beautifully soft skin

that glowed under the kitchen fixtures. Ivory earrings

shaped like seashells clung to her small lobes. "Mademoiselle, you changed again?" she asked

incredulously.

Beau laughed. "This isn't Gisselle," he said. Nina tilted her head.

"Go on with you, monsieur. That t'aint enough

of a disguise to fool Nina Jackson."

"No, I'm serious, Nina. This isn't Gisselle,"

Beau insisted. "Her name is Ruby. Look closely," he

told her. "If anyone could tell the difference, it would

be you. You practically brought up Gisselle," he said. She smirked, wiped her hands on her apron, and

crossed the kitchen to get closer. I saw she wore a

small pouch around her neck on a black shoestring. For a moment she stared into my face. Her black eyes narrowed, burned into mine, and then widened. She stepped back and seized the small pouch between her right thumb and forefinger so she could hold it out