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.