I gazed at Gisselle again. She hadn't left out a detail. Wickedly, she grinned.
"Yes, but--"
"Don't you ever so much as nod at this woman if you should see her someplace, much less accept any letters from her or phone calls, understand?"
"Yes, ma'am." I looked down, the tears so cold they made me shiver on their journey down my cheeks.
"You should have told us about this so we could be prepared should it come up. Are there any other sordid secrets?"
I shook my head quickly.
"Very well." She looked at Gisselle. "Both of you go to bed," she commanded.
I rose slowly and without waiting for Gisselle, started toward the stairway. I walked ponderously up the steps, my head down, my heart feeling so heavy in my chest, it was like I was carrying a chunk of lead up with me.
Gisselle came prancing by, her face molded in a smile of self-satisfaction.
"I hope you and Beau had a good time," she quipped as she passed me.
What possible part of my mother and what possible part of my father combined to create someone so hateful and mean? I wondered.
18
A Curse
.
Gisselle and I didn't speak to each other very
much the next day. I finished breakfast before she came down, and soon after she did, she went off with Martin and two of her girlfriends. Daddy left, saying he had to catch up on some work in his office, and I saw Daphne only for a moment before she hurried out to meet some friends for shopping and lunch. I spent the remainder of the morning in my studio, painting. I was still uncomfortable living in such a big house. Despite the many beautiful antiques and works of art, the expensive French furniture and elaborate tapestries and carpets, for me the house remained as empty and as cold as a museum. It was easy to be lonely here, I thought as I wandered back through the long corridors afterward to have my lunch alone.
And so I was glad when Beau arrived in the early afternoon and we went into my art studio to practice our play lines. First, he looked at the pictures I had drawn and painted under Professor Ashbury's tutelage.
"Well?" I said when he went from one to the other without comment.
"How about doing a picture of me?" he suggested, looking up from a watercolor of a bowl of fruit.
"Of you?" The idea startled me. A slow grin appeared on his handsome face.
"Sure. I hope it would be a lot more interesting than something like this." His grin quickly
evaporated. Suddenly, those smiling sapphire eyes looked at me as I had never been looked at before. They darkened so with pure desire. "I'd even pose nude, if you like," he said.
I know my cheeks turned crimson.
"Nude! Beau!"
"It's only for the sake of art, right?" he followed quickly. "And an artist has to practice drawing and pain
ting the human body, doesn't she? Even I know that much," he said. "I'm sure your teacher will be taking you to his studio soon and have you do nudes. I hear there are college guys and girls who do it for the money. Or have you already drawn and painted someone in the nude?" he asked with a wry smile.
"Of course not. I'm not ready for that sort of work yet, Beau," I said, my voice nearly failing. He took a few steps toward me.
"You don't think I'm good-looking enough? You think the college guys will look better?"
"No, I don't. It's not that. It's just . . ."
"Just what?"