much," I cried, bursting into happy tears. Here was the grand house with our servants awaiting us, our beautiful grounds, our oil fields in the background, and my new studio waiting. Had we defied Fate, blown smoke in the face of Destiny? Would Paul's newfound wealth be enough to keep the howling winds and cold rains of misery outside our doors? For the moment, at least, I couldn't help but be as optimistic and as happy as he was.
Maybe I was Alice in Wonderland, I thought. Maybe this was what was meant to be all along and I had had no business in the rich Creole world of New Orleans, and that was why all the terrible things had happened there, things to drive me back to the bayou where I belonged. Paul took Pearl into his arms.
"Instead of carrying you over the threshold,Ill carry Pearl," he said. "After all, she will be the princess."
I noticed the white powder sprinkled on the front steps. Paul noticed too.
"Letty's work, I imagine," he said.
The large, tall door was opened by our butler, James Humble. He was at least six feet two inches tall, a lean man with curly brown hair, caramel skin, and bright hazel eyes. He looked like the proper butler with his perfect posture, awaiting our beck and call.
"This is James," Paul said. "James, Madame Tate."
"Welcome, madame," he said with a small nod and bow. He had a deep voice with a cultured French pronunciation.
"Thank you, James."
When I entered the hallway, I found Holly Mixon standing to the side, waiting for us. She was a large-boned woman with stout arms and shoulders.
"And this is Holly," Paul said. "Holly, Madame Tate." She curtsied.
"Hello, Holly."
"How'd ja do, ma'am," she said.
"Where's Letty?" Paul asked.
"She's in the kitchen, monsieur, preparing for tonight's dinner. She don't want none of us in there when she works," she added.
"I see," Paul said, winking at me. "Why don't you take Pearl up to the nursery first then, Ruby. I want to go over to my parents and inform them myself. That's probably best. If you agree, that is."
"Yes, Paul," I said. The thought of their reactions put something hard and heavy in my chest.
"As soon as I return, we'll see about getting your things, okay?"
"Yes," I said, taking Pearl into my arms.
He leaned over, kissed me quickly on the cheek, and then hurried out.
"Now then," I said, turning to Holly. "Why don't you lead the way to the nursery and we'll see what has to be done."
"Yes, ma'am," she said.
If I hadn't lived in the House of Dumas with its servants around me, I would have felt uncomfortable having a maid and a butler and a cook. I was hardly one to put on airs and act like some grand lady, but Paul had really built a mansion and it required household help. There was nothing to do now but assume my place and become the mistress of Cypress Woods.
Letty did remind me of Nina Jackson. She wore the same sort of red kerchief with seven knots whose points all stood straight up, a tignon; but she was much taller and much thinner, surprisingly thin for a cook, with long hands ribbed with veins against her chocolate skin. She had a narrow face with a slender mouth and a thin nose. She told me her eyes were too close together because her mother had been surprised by a rattlesnake the day she became pregnant. I saw she wore a camphor lump around her neck, which I knew was to keep germs away.
Letty was a more formal cook who had learned from educated chefs. The first meal she was preparing for us proved it. We were to begin with oysters Bienville for an appetizer, followed by turtle soup. The main dish was filet de boeuf aux champignons with yellow, squash with peas. For dessert she had prepared an orange creme brulee.
"I noticed you put white powder on our front steps," I told her after we were introduced and had spoken awhile. Her small dark eyes grew smaller.
"I be not workin' in a house without it," she replied firmly.
"I don't mind, Letty. My grandmere Catherine was a traiteur woman," I said, and she brightened, impressed.
"You be holy
Maybe I was Alice in Wonderland, I thought. Maybe this was what was meant to be all along and I had had no business in the rich Creole world of New Orleans, and that was why all the terrible things had happened there, things to drive me back to the bayou where I belonged. Paul took Pearl into his arms.
"Instead of carrying you over the threshold,Ill carry Pearl," he said. "After all, she will be the princess."
I noticed the white powder sprinkled on the front steps. Paul noticed too.
"Letty's work, I imagine," he said.
The large, tall door was opened by our butler, James Humble. He was at least six feet two inches tall, a lean man with curly brown hair, caramel skin, and bright hazel eyes. He looked like the proper butler with his perfect posture, awaiting our beck and call.
"This is James," Paul said. "James, Madame Tate."
"Welcome, madame," he said with a small nod and bow. He had a deep voice with a cultured French pronunciation.
"Thank you, James."
When I entered the hallway, I found Holly Mixon standing to the side, waiting for us. She was a large-boned woman with stout arms and shoulders.
"And this is Holly," Paul said. "Holly, Madame Tate." She curtsied.
"Hello, Holly."
"How'd ja do, ma'am," she said.
"Where's Letty?" Paul asked.
"She's in the kitchen, monsieur, preparing for tonight's dinner. She don't want none of us in there when she works," she added.
"I see," Paul said, winking at me. "Why don't you take Pearl up to the nursery first then, Ruby. I want to go over to my parents and inform them myself. That's probably best. If you agree, that is."
"Yes, Paul," I said. The thought of their reactions put something hard and heavy in my chest.
"As soon as I return, we'll see about getting your things, okay?"
"Yes," I said, taking Pearl into my arms.
He leaned over, kissed me quickly on the cheek, and then hurried out.
"Now then," I said, turning to Holly. "Why don't you lead the way to the nursery and we'll see what has to be done."
"Yes, ma'am," she said.
If I hadn't lived in the House of Dumas with its servants around me, I would have felt uncomfortable having a maid and a butler and a cook. I was hardly one to put on airs and act like some grand lady, but Paul had really built a mansion and it required household help. There was nothing to do now but assume my place and become the mistress of Cypress Woods.
Letty did remind me of Nina Jackson. She wore the same sort of red kerchief with seven knots whose points all stood straight up, a tignon; but she was much taller and much thinner, surprisingly thin for a cook, with long hands ribbed with veins against her chocolate skin. She had a narrow face with a slender mouth and a thin nose. She told me her eyes were too close together because her mother had been surprised by a rattlesnake the day she became pregnant. I saw she wore a camphor lump around her neck, which I knew was to keep germs away.
Letty was a more formal cook who had learned from educated chefs. The first meal she was preparing for us proved it. We were to begin with oysters Bienville for an appetizer, followed by turtle soup. The main dish was filet de boeuf aux champignons with yellow, squash with peas. For dessert she had prepared an orange creme brulee.
"I noticed you put white powder on our front steps," I told her after we were introduced and had spoken awhile. Her small dark eyes grew smaller.
"I be not workin' in a house without it," she replied firmly.
"I don't mind, Letty. My grandmere Catherine was a traiteur woman," I said, and she brightened, impressed.
"You be holy
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