“Their guest house?”
“I gather it’s been used for that, but I think it was also a hobby room of sorts. I thought it would be a perfect workshop for you.”
It would be perfect. The room was a dream for any artist. It was light and airy and peaceful. She still shook her head. “Justin. . .”
“Don’t say anything. Give it some more thought, okay? The house has been here for a century. It’ll be here a few more weeks.”
“But you might be able to back out of the deal. You should try to while you still can.”
“Let me worry about that.” He glanced at his watch. “We’d better get back.”
They walked through the side yard under the magnolia. Bethany noticed without wanting to that a child’s tree house was built into the sturdy branches. “Are you sure they didn’t run a nursery school?”
“No, they just loved children, and this house was made to be loved by a child.”
“You’re choking me with guilt,” she said lightly.
“I’ll use what I have to “ He grimaced at the look she sent him. “All right, I’ll stop. . . for now.”
They seriously needed a change of subject as they drove back toward St. Charles. She chose the most obvious. “I wonder how Abby did with your mother?”
“They seemed to get along well. For that matter, you and my mother got along well, too.” A smile softened his face.
His obvious pleasure surprised her. Certainly it would make life easier for all of them if she and Mrs. Dumontier could be friends, but his feelings seemed to go deeper. She probed. “I really didn’t expect her to like me, Justin. After what I did, and. . .” She stopped, letting her words trail off.
“And?”
“Well, and because of how different I am.”
“And how different are you?” he asked, glancing at her.
“Well, I’ve never been the queen of carnival like your friend Danielle.”
“Don’t exaggerate. Danielle was never queen of carnival, either.”
“Whatever. I’ve never even been to a ball.”
“Do you want to go? I could take you.”
“No.” She shuddered lightly. “But that’s the point I’m trying to make. You could scratch my pedigree on the head of a pin and still have room for the Declaration of Independence.”
“You’re not a poodle, Bethany. Pedigree isn’t an issue.”
“I don’t think so either, but I thought it might be with your mother. I know your family’s socially prominent, and like I said before, I figured out a long time ago that the fact mine wasn’t was probably one of the things that came between us.”
Justin hit the brakes and pulled the car into a parking spot on the side of St. Charles. “Repeat what you just said.”
“I’m not ashamed of myself. But I have come to understand that sometimes these things matter to some people, especially people here.”
Hands gripping the steering wheel, he stared straight ahead. “How could you possibly have thought that?’’ he asked.
“It was one of many explanations that I came up with. And it seemed the most plausible. Besides it was the one that didn’t reflect on me as a human being. Since I didn’t have anything to do with my own background, then I couldn’t be blamed.”
“Bethany, I left New Orleans in the first place to get away from that mentality.” He propped his elbows on the steering wheel and massaged his temples. “Let me tell you a quick story. About thirteen years ago, when I was ready to go off to college, my parents tried hard to convince me I should either stay in New Orleans or at least come back for my graduate work. Even then I knew what a trap it would be. I went to Harvard then took the job in Chicago for only one reason. I didn’t want to be one of the privileged.”
“Really? Harvard isn’t exactly Poor Folk U.”
“But at Harvard being a Dumontier meant nothing. I’ve always hated the social structure here. I find it stifling and at its worst prejudicial. I grew up going to all the right schools, participating in activities of the right carnival organizations and clubs. I couldn’t wait to get out. I knew that wasn’t what I wanted from my life.”
Bethany sat very still, drinking in his words. “Well, I guess that’s one myth destroyed.” But his explanation didn’t make her feel any better. Now his disappearance could only be laid at her personal doorstep.
His hand came under her chin, turning her so he could look directly into her eyes. “And you’re still wondering why I lost touch, aren’t you? Here’s the truth. I needed time to think. I had to withdraw and piece my life back together after our time together in Florida. You didn’t fail me. I thought you were the finest person I had ever known.”
She thought he was telling the truth. There was no deception in his eyes. For a moment she couldn’t breathe.
“I still do,” he said, dropping his hand. “That’s never changed.”
She waited, hoping for more, but Justin pulled back into traffic and they traveled back to his mother’s talking of inconsequential things. There were too many emotions sealed in the Mercedes with them, and Justin clearly wasn’t ready to plunge any further into the charged atmosphere to sort out the complexities of their relationship.
* * *
MRS. DUMONTIER WAS in the drawing room, rearranging her collection of Imari porcelain, when Justin returned from delivering Bethany and Abby safely home. Standing in the doorway, he watched her moving the delicate earthenware from mantel to table and back again.
“What did you think of them?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
She graced him with a radiant smile. “Abby is every grandmother’s dream. I honestly couldn’t ask for a better mother for her, either, although of course I wish all this had come about in a different way.”
“It doesn’t hurt that Bethany shares your interest in antiques, does it?”
“It never hurts when two people have something in common.” As if she recognized Justin’s attempt to prolong the conversation, she obliged him. “But Bethany really is a lovely girl. I’ll confess, I spent a major portion of the afternoon wondering how you ever let her get away.”
When he didn’t answer she plunked a piece of porcelain on the table with an audible clink. “When you do that, you’re so much like your father it’s like he’s in the room with me again.”
“When I do what?”
“When you straighten like that and wipe all the expression off your face. You learned that at your father’s knee. That and a few other irritating mannerisms.”
“That’s the second time in my life I remember hearing you sound even faintly critical of my father.”
“I should have let you know many years ago that I didn’t find everything about him endearing. It might have been helpful.” She bent to continue rearranging the porcelain pieces and probably to signal she was ready for a change of subject. “I know you prepared me, but I wasn’t ready to see the likeness of Marie walk through the door.”
“She is, isn’t she. But very different in personality. I remember Marie as being very quiet, ultra feminine and obedient.”
“Abby is very much like you were as a child. Dramatic, willful, as bright as a copper penny. Altogether charming.”
“Dramatic and willful?”
She came to stand in front of him. “Willful. You still are. The dramatic disappeared years ago, only to crop up again in that wonderful child.”
“No, she gets the willful part from her mother.”
Mrs. Dumontier searched his face, settling on the slight frown. “Has Bethany thwarted you somehow?”
“I bought her a house, and she refuses to move into it.”
“Just like that? You bought her a house?”
Ignoring her incredulity, he shook his head. “I think she wants to stay in the French Quarter. She says she can’t take anything from me, but I think she wants to stay because of a man there, a Cajun fiddler named Lamar. She seems very close to him.”
When she spoke she sounded almost pl
eased. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he answered.
Patting his hand as she moved past him, she said in a consoling tone, “No matter what your father taught you, Justin, by word or by deed, even a Dumontier is allowed to have feelings. Even a Dumontier.”
* * *
“I CAN’T BELIEVE it’s only three weeks to Mardi Gras,” Bethany said. She and Madeline were working side by side behind the display case at Life’s Illusions. Bethany was sitting on a high stool gluing feathers on a mask, and Madeline was catching up on paperwork she had set aside during Abby’s illness.
“How far behind are you on your orders, Beth?”
Bethany unconsciously began to glue faster. “So far behind I’m not sure I’m going to be done by next year’s Mardi Gras.”
“You always take too many commissions. I keep telling you. . .”
“I know, I know. Beth,” she said in a deep voice that was intended to mimic her friend, “Beth, you’re only human, child. You have to have more time to yourself.”
“It caught up to you this time, didn’t it?”
“It’s been crazy. But I think the worst is over. Now that Abby’s better, I think I’ll be able to catch up.”
“Valerie was invaluable while you were at the hospital.” As if she were waiting for her name to be called, the young woman entered the shop.
“Hi, you all.” She honored them with her stunning smile.
“I didn’t expect to see you today. I thought you were studying for a big test,” Madeline said.
“I stayed up late last night to do it. I thought I’d be able to finish the mask I was working on if Beth wasn’t using the workroom today.”
The three women chatted for a few minutes, until Bethany excused herself to wait on a customer. When she returned Valerie was gone.
“It’s a shame Valerie doesn’t have a place at home to work,” she said. Valerie lived in a small apartment with her parents and three younger sisters. The family was long on love and short on room.
Madeline dropped her eyes and busied herself with paperwork. Her tone couldn’t have been more unconcerned. “We could really use that studio we’re always fantasizing about. Not only could the three of us use it, but we could take on some extra people to help assemble the easier masks. I hate to hire them out as piece work without being there to supervise. What we need is a studio right on the premises.”
“Justin’s been talking to you, hasn’t he?”
Madeline’s frizzy head bobbed a scant inch.
“What is it between you two?” Bethany asked. “Yesterday he dropped hints about personal conversations when he was trying to move me lock, stock and barrel into that cozy little cottage he bought without consulting me.”
“He’s worried about Abby, Beth. And I’m afraid I agree with him.”
Another customer entered and, after long minutes of debate and indecision, left the shop carrying a papier-mâché mask of an alligator. Two more customers came in and departed with bundles.
“Why?” Bethany asked, as if there had been no interruptions.
“Look around.” Madeline gestured to the street in front of the window. “In some ways this is a wonderful place to live, but it’s not the best place to raise a child. Abby needs a neighborhood with other children. The apartment is fast becoming too small for you both, and even if we could afford to rent a studio and free up your workroom, there’s no decent place for her to play.”
Bethany knew better than to lash out at her friend. “Sounds like you’ve been giving it some thought.”
“I’ve been worried for a while. I’ve even looked at houses in my neighborhood, hoping I could find something that wasn’t too expensive for you. But unless you take Justin up on his offer, I’m afraid you’re going to be here forever.” Madeline faced her. “Maybe it’s time to bury your pride? For Abby’s sake.”
“Do you know he even bought me a car? A car, for God’s sake. I didn’t even have an opportunity to tell him I don’t have a Louisiana driver’s license.”
“Getting a license wouldn’t be a problem.”
“I’m not going to let him hand me a car or a house on a silver platter.”
“There’s nothing to be gained from putting yourself in his debt.” Madeline hesitated. “Except maybe it’s not that way. You’ve supported your daughter for four years without his help. Maybe now it’s his turn. I think that’s how he sees it.”
“A house and a car hardly equal four years of a little girl’s expenses. Even if I added up all the diapers and peanut butter and garage sale Legos, he’d still come out way ahead.”
“Don’t nickel and dime this. The house is for Abby. For that matter, the car is, too, but I suppose you could pay him back for the car to remind him you’re an independent woman.” Madeline smiled before she said, “As if he’s likely to forget.”
“Well, it’s not going to happen. Besides, if I changed my mind in less than twenty-four hours, he would think I’m a pushover.”
“No, he would think you’ve got good common sense.”
“Where he’s concerned, that’s probably the last thing I have, good common sense. . .” She decided to add the rest. “Or self-control.”
“He’s a charmer, Beth.” Madeline began to pile up the papers she had been working on. “I think if someone like Justin Dumontier showed as much interest in me as he does in you, my common sense and self-control would be put to the test, too.”
“His interest got me into trouble once before,” Bethany said. “It won’t again.”
“But that’s because you’re much more mature and much more secure. You don’t have to be afraid of your feelings. I’m certain you’ll do the right thing when the time comes to make a decision about Justin.”
Bethany watched as Madeline shrugged into an old beat-up cardigan she used when she was making masks and gathered up her purse. “I’m going to see if Valerie needs any help upstairs. Call us if it gets too busy down here.”
The homey wisdom could have come directly from the mouth of one of Bethany’s television mothers. Not for the first time, she realized just how much she had gained by having the older woman as her friend. Over the years Madeline had become the real-life mother she had never had. If Bethany was more mature, more secure now than she had been at age twenty-one, it was because of the warm nurturing and personal attention she had received from Madeline. Madeline’s love was a gift freely given, a gift to treasure.
* * *
“JUSTIN, JUSTIN, JUSTIN. . .” Abby stood at the front door of Life’s Illusions a week later, waiting for her father and chanting his name as if repeating those syllables would make him magically appear.
“He’ll be here in about five minutes, Abby. Can you please do that quietly?” Bethany rubbed her temples with her fingertips, trying to dispel the headache that had moved in to stay until her Mardi Gras orders reached a manageable level. The last week had flown by, and each day seemed to have fewer and fewer hours in it. Between working in the shop and spending every spare minute completing masks, Bethany was exhausted.
Her schedule had been so hectic she had gratefully allowed Justin and his mother to spend large portions of each day with Abby. As a consequence of their rapt attention, Abby had abandoned almost all the suspicious reserve she had shown when she was with her father. The little girl now treated him to displays of the same exuberant affection she gave Lamar. Justin, for all his reticence, had no trouble expressing his feelings for his daughter, sending back a quiet unwavering love that wrapped her in a cocoon of security.
“Will the white tiger be there?”
Bethany nodded, absorbed in gluing sequins on a mask she was just completing. In the past week and out of necessity, she had developed a new pattern to her work, and she was finishing more masks. At night, after Abby fell asleep, she worked on the plaster forms she used to mold the bases. Then, during the day when she was behind the shop counter, she glued feathers, sequins an
d other adornments on the bases. Customers liked seeing the masks take shape before their eyes, and she was selling more.
“Mommy, can’t you come?”
Bethany shook her head, continuing to concentrate on her work.
“Mommy, talk to me!”
Flicking the button on the hot-glue machine, Bethany sighed. “No, I can’t come, kiddo. You and your daddy will have to go alone. I have to finish these masks before Mardi Gras.”
“Madeline said Mardi Gras starts this weekend.”
“Not Mardi Gras. The parades start then. Mardi Gras is just one day. The carnival season really starts twelve days after Christmas. Remember the first night we had king cake?”
Abby brightened at the mention of the seasonal sweetbread decorated with gold, green and purple-colored sugars. Every year the cake was served from Twelfth Night through Fat Tuesday—or Mardi Gras—the day before the beginning of Lent. Each king cake had a tiny plastic baby hidden inside, a symbol of the baby Jesus. The person finding the baby in his piece of cake was obligated to buy the next king cake.
“I had king cake at grandma’s house. Mrs. Waters made it herself.”
“Let me guess. I’ll bet you found the baby, too.” Bethany smiled at the little girl’s astonished expression.
“How did you know?”
Bethany pictured Mrs. Dumontier guiding Abby’s hand as she cut the cake. An unspoken part of the tradition was to be sure that as often as possible, children found the baby. “A lucky guess.”
“Justin wanted you to come to the zoo with us.”
“I wish I could.” In the past week, Bethany had seen Justin only long enough to nod and exchange a word with him. When he had called, inviting her to go to the zoo today, the subject of the house hadn’t come up, for which she was grateful.
The shop bell tinkled and Justin walked through the glass door, grabbing Abby and swinging her high over his head. Right behind him was Danielle de Bessonet. The young woman was wearing skin-tight designer jeans topped by a fluffy angora pullover in a becoming shade of coral.
“Why Beth, what a charming little shop,” she said, following Justin into the store. “I’ve spent hours in the Quarter, and I’ve never noticed this place.”
The Unmasking Page 16
