All That Glitters

  "Yes, Your Honor. I would like to begin by

  calling Monsieur Beau Andreas to the stand." The judge nodded, and Beau squeezed my hand

  and stood up. Everyone's eyes were fixed on him as

  he strutted confidently to the witness seat. He was

  sworn in and sat quickly.

  "Monsieur Andreas, as a preamble to our

  presentation, would you tell the court in your own

  words why, how, and when you and Ruby Tate

  effected the switching of identities between Ruby and

  Gisselle Andreas, who was your wife at the time." "Objection, Your Honor," Monsieur Williams

  said. "Whether or not this woman is Ruby Tate is

  something for the court to decide."

  The judge grimaced. "Monsieur Williams.

  There isn't a jury to impress. I think I'm capable of

  understanding the question at hand without being

  influenced by innuendo. Please, sir. Let's make this as

  fast as possible."

  "Yes, Your Honor," Monsieur Williams said,

  and sat down.

  My eyes widened. Perhaps we would get a fair

  shake after all, I thought.

  Beau began our story. Not a sound was heard

  through his relating of it. No one so much as coughed

  or cleared his throat, and when he was finished, an

  even deeper hush came over the crowd. It was as if

  everyone had been stunned. Now, when I turned and

  looked around, I saw all eyes were on me. Beau had

  done such a good job of telling our story, many were

  beginning to wonder if it couldn't be so. I felt my

  hopes rise to the surface of my troubled thoughts. Monsieur Williams rose. "Just a few questions,

  if I may, Your Honor."

  "Go on," the judge said.

  "Monsieur Andreas. You said your wife was

  diagnosed with St. Louis encephalitis while you were

  at your country estate. A doctor made the diagnosis?" "Yes."

  "Didn't this doctor know he was diagnosing

  your wife, Gisselle?" Beau looked toward Monsieur

  Polk. "If so, why didn't you bring him here to testify

  that it was Gisselle and not Ruby?" Monsieur

  Williams hammered. Beau didn't respond.

  "Monsieur Andreas?" the judge said. "Your honor," Monsieur Polk said. "Since the

  twins are so identical, we didn't think the doctor

  would be able to testify beyond a doubt as to which twin he examined. I have researched the medical history of the twins, as much as could be researched, and we are willing to admit that identical twins share so many physiological characteristics, it is virtually

  impossible to use medical data to identify them." "You have no medical records to enter into the

  record?" Judge Barrow asked.

  "No, sir."

  "Then what hard evidence to you intend to

  enter into the record to substantiate this fantastic

  story, sir?" the judge asked, getting right to the point. "We are prepared at this time," Monsieur Polk

  said, approaching the judge, "to present handwriting

  samples that you will quickly be able to see

  distinguish one twin from the other. These come from

  school records and legal documents," Monsieur Polk

  said, and presented the exhibits.

  Judge Barrow gazed at them. "I'd have to have

  an expert analyze them, of course."

  "We would like to reserve the right to bring

  them to our experts, Your Honor," Monsieur Williams

  said.

  "Of course," the judge said. He put the exhibits

  aside. "Are there any more questions for Monsieur

  Andreas?"

  "Yes," Monsieur Williams said, and stood his

  ground between Beau and us. He smiled skeptically.

  "Sir, you claim Paul Tate, once hearing of this

  fantastic scheme, volunteered to take the sick twin

  into his home and pretend she was his wife?" "That's correct," Beau said.

  "Can you tell the court why he would do such a

  thing?"

  "Paul Tate was devoted to Ruby and wanted to

  see her happy. He knew Pearl was my child and he

  wanted to see us with our child," Beau added. Gladys Tate groaned so loud, everyone paused

  to see. She had closed her eyes and fallen back against

  Octavious's shoulder.

  "Monsieur?" the judge asked. Octavious

  whispered something in Gladys's ear and her eyelids

  fluttered open. With great effort, she sat up again.

  Then, she nodded she was all right.

  "And so," Monsieur Williams continued, "you

  are telling the court that Paul Tate willingly took in

  his sister-in-law and then pretended she was his wife

  to the extent that when she died, he fell into a deep

  depression which caused his own untimely death? He

  did all this to make sure Ruby Tate was happy living

  with another man? Is that what you want this court to

  believe?"

  "It's true," Beau said.

  Monsieur Williams widened his smile. "No

  further questions, Your Honor," he said. The judge

  told Beau he was excused. He looked very dark and

  troubled as he returned to his seat beside me. "Ruby," Monsieur Polk said. I nodded and he

  called me to the stand. I took a deep breath and with

  my eyes nearly closed, walked to the witness chair.

  After I was sworn in, I took another deep breath and

  told myself to be strong for Pearl's sake.

  "Please state your real name," Monsieur Polk

  said.

  "My legal name is Ruby Tate."

  "You have heard Monsieur Andreas's story. Is

  there anything with which you wish to disagree?" "No. It's all true."

  "Did you discuss this switching of identities

  with your husband, Paul, and did he indeed agree to

  the plan?"

  "Yes. I didn't want him to be so involved," I

  added, "but he insisted."

  "Describe the birth of your child," he said, and

  stood back.

  I told the story, how Paul had been there during the storm to help with Pearl's birth. Monsieur Polk then took me through many of the highlights of my life, events at the Greenwood School, the people I had known and things I had accomplished. After I finished with that, he nodded toward the rear and an assistant brought in an easel, some drawing pencils, and a

  drawing pad.

  Monsieur Williams shot up out of his seat as

  soon as it was obvious what Monsieur Polk wanted to

  demonstrate. "I object to this, Your Honor," Monsieur

  Williams cried.

  "Monsieur Polk, what do you plan to enter into

  the record here?" the judge asked.

  "There were many differences between the

  twins, Your Honor, many we recognize will be hard to

  substantiate, but one is possible, and that is Ruby's

  ability to draw and paint. She has had paintings in

  galleries in New Orleans and--"

  "Your Honor," Monsieur Williams said,

  "whether this woman can draw a straight line or not is

  irrelevant. It was never established that Gisselle

  Andreas could not."

  "I'm afraid he has a point, Monsieur Polk. All

  you will show here is that this woman can perform

  artistically."

  "Monsieur Polk sighed with frustration. "But,

  Your Honor, never in Gisselle Andreas's history has

  there ever been any evidence. . ."

  The judge shook his head.
"It's a waste of the

  court's time, monsieur. Please continue with your

  witness or enter new exhibits or call another witness."

  Monsieur Polk shook his head. "Are you finished with

  this witness?"

  With deep disappointment, Monsieur Polk

  replied, "Yes, Your Honor."

  "Monsieur Williams?"

  "A few minor questions," he said, dripping with

  sarcasm. "Madame Andreas. You claim you were

  married to Paul Tate even though you were still in

  love with Beau Andreas. Why did you marry

  Monsieur Tate, then?"

  "I. . . was alone and he wanted to provide a

  home for me and my child."

  "Most husbands want to provide homes for

  their wives and children. Did he love you?"

  "Oh yes."

  "Did you love him?"

  "I .. ."

  "Well, did you?"

  "Yes, but . . ."

  "But what, madame?"

  "But it was a different sort of love, a friendship,

  a . . ." I wanted to say "sisterly," but when I looked at

  Gladys and Octavious, I couldn't do it. "A different

  sort of love."

  "You were man and wife, were you not? You

  were married in a church, you said."

  "Yes."

  He narrowed his eyes. "Did you see Monsieur

  Andreas romantically while you were married to

  Monsieur Tate?"

  "Yes," I said, and some in the audience gasped

  and shook their heads.

  "And according to your tale, your husband was

  aware of this?"

  ,,Yes."

  "He was aware of this and he tolerated it? Not

  only did he tolerate it, but he was willing to take in

  your dying sister and pretend it was you so you would

  be happy." He spun around as he continued, directing

  himself to the audience as much as he directed himself

  to the judge. "And then he became so depressed over

  her death that he drowned in the swamp? This is the

  story you and Monsieur Andreas want everyone to

  accept?"

  "Yes," I cried. "It's true. All of it."

  Monsieur Williams gazed at the judge and

  twisted the corner of his mouth until it cut into his

  cheek.

  "No further questions, Your Honor."

  The judge nodded. "You may step down,

  madame," he said, but I couldn't stand. My legs were

  like wet straw and my back felt as if it had turned to

  jelly. I closed my eyes.

  "Ruby," Beau called.

  "Are you all right, madame?" the judge asked. I shook my head. My heart was pounding so

  hard, I couldn't catch my breath. I felt the blood drain

  from my face. When I opened my eyes, Beau was

  holding my hand. Someone had brought up a wet

  cloth for my forehead and I realized I had fainted. "Can you walk, Ruby?" Beau asked.

  I nodded.

  "We'll have a short recess," the judge said, and

  slammed his gavel down. I felt as if he had slammed it

  down on my heart.

  17

  Thicker Than Water

  .

  During the recess Beau and I were shown to a

  waiting room in which there was a small sofa. Beau had me lie down and keep the wet cloth on my forehead while Monsieur Polk went to make a phone call to his office. He looked glum and disturbed. In fact, I thought he seemed angry at us for bringing him into the situation.

  "Beau, we looked foolish in there, didn't we?" I asked mournfully. "After we told our story, the Tates' attorney made us look like liars."

  "No," Beau encouraged. "People believed us. I saw it in their faces. And besides, once your handwriting is compared to Gisselle's and analyzed . . ."

  "They will find an expert to discount it, You know they will. She's so determined to hurt us, Beau. She won't spare any cost. She would use Paul's entire fortune to defeat us!"

  "Take it easy, Ruby. Please. We have to go back and--"

  We both turned when the door opened and Jeanne entered. For a moment no one spoke. She held the door partially opened behind her as if she might change her mind and bolt out of the room any moment.

  "Jeanne," I said, sitting up. "Please, come in."

  She stared at me, her eyes watery. "I don't know what to believe anymore," she said, shaking her head. "Mother swears you and Beau are just good liars."

  "No, Jeanne. We're not lying. Remember when you came to me and we had that nice talk before you got married? Remember how you weren't sure you should marry James?"

  Her eyes widened and then narrowed. "Ruby could have told you."

  I shook my head. "No. Listen. . ."

  "But even if you are Ruby, I don't know how you could have hurt my brother like you did."

  "Jeanne, you don't understand everything. I never meant to hurt Paul, never. I did love him."

  "How can you say that with him right here?" she asked, nodding at Beau.

  "Paul and I had a different sort of love, Jeanne."

  She studied me with such intensity, I felt her eyes inside me, don't know. I just don't know what to believe," she said. And then her eyes turned crystalhard. "But I came here to tell you that if you are Ruby and you did all this, I feel sorry for you."

  "Jeanne!"

  She turned and left quickly.

  "You see," Beau said, smiling. "She has doubts now. She knows in her heart you are Ruby."

  "I hope so," I said. "But I feel so terrible. I should have realized how many people I would hurt."

  Beau held me tightly and I took a deep breath. He got me a glass of water, and as I was drinking it, Monsieur Polk returned, looking even more despondent.

  "What is it?" Beau asked.

  "I've just gotten some bad news," he said. "They have a surprise witness."

  "What? Who?" I asked, my mind searching through the possibilities.

  "I don't know who it is yet," he said. "But I was told he could nail it down for them. Is there anything else you two haven't told me?"

  "No, Monsieur," Beau said. "Absolutely nothing has been deliberately withheld. And everything we've told you is the truth."

  He nodded, skeptically. "It's time to return," he said.

  It was even more difficult to return to the courtroom than it was to first enter it. I felt like a specimen under a microscope. Everyone's gaze followed me down to the front of the courtroom, and people near us covered their mouths to whisper. It made me flush with a wave of heat that rose up my legs and over my face. Every old friend of Grandmere Catherine's was studying my every move, searching gestures for evidence to confirm my identity. The air was thick with their questions. Were Beau and I trying to pull off some scam? Or was our tale the truth?

  We took our seats. Gladys Tate was already seated, steely-faced. Octavious sat staring blankly ahead. Jeanne whispered something to Toby, and Paul's sisters gazed at me angrily. A few moments later, Judge Barrow returned and the courtroom grew still.

  "Monsieur Polk," he said. "Are you ready to continue?"

  "Yes, Your Honor." Our attorney rose with the documents he had prepared for us to sign concerning the inheritance.

  "Your Honor. My clients recognize that their motives for trying to regain custody of Pearl Tate might be misinterpreted. In order to alleviate such misinterpretations, we are prepared to offer the surrender of any and all rights to any spousal inheritance concerning the estate of Paul Marcus Tate." He stepped forward and brought the documents to the judge, who gazed down at them and then nodded at Monsieur Williams to come forward, too. He looked at the papers.

  "We'd have to study these, of course, Your Honor, but," he said with the confidence of someone who had anticipated our move, "even if these do prove satisfa
ctory, this doesn't eliminate the possibility of these two impostors getting their clutches on the Tate fortune. The child whom they are trying to get custody of would inherit, and they would naturally be the trustees of that enormous inheritance."

  The judge turned to Monsieur Tate.

  "Your Honor, it is the contention of my clients that Pearl Tate's natural father is Beau Andreas. She would have no claims to Monsieur Tate's estate."

  The judge nodded. It was like watching a game of chess being played with real people on the board instead of figurines of knights and queens, pawns and kings. We were the pawns, and to the victor went my darling Pearl.

  "Do you have any further exhibits to enter, Monsieur Polk, or any further witnesses?"

  "No, Your Honor."

  "Monsieur Williams?"

  "We do, Your Honor."

  The judge sat back. Monsieur Polk returned to his seat beside us, and Monsieur Williams went to his desk to confer with his associate for a moment before turning and calling out his witness's name.

  "We would like to call Monsieur Bruce Bristow to the stand."

  "Bruce!" I exclaimed. Beau shook his head in astonishment.

  "Is this not your stepmother's husband?" Monsieur Polk asked.

  "Yes, but . . we have nothing to do with him anymore," Beau explained.

  The doors opened in the rear and Bruce came sauntering down the aisle, a Cheshire cat's grin on his lips when he gazed our way.

  "She must have made him an offer, bought his testimony," I told Monsieur Polk.

  "What sort of testimony can this man give?" he wondered aloud.

  "He'll say anything, even under oath," Beau said, eyeing Bruce angrily.

  Bruce was sworn in and sat in the witness chair. Monsieur Williams approached him.

  "Please state your name, sir."

  "I'm Bruce Bristow."

  "And were you married to the now-deceased stepmother of Ruby and Gisselle Dumas?"

  "I was."

  "How long have you known the twins?"

  "Quite a long time," he said, gazing at me and smiling. "Years. I was employed by Monsieur and Madame Dumas for about eight years before Monsieur Dumas's death."

  "After which you married Daphne Dumas and became, for all practical purposes, the stepfather to the twins Gisselle and Ruby?"

  "Yes, that's true."

  "So you knew them well?"

  "Very well. Intimately," he added.

  "As the only living parent of the twins, can you assure the court you can distinguish between them?"

  "Of course. Gisselle," he said, looking at me again, "has a completely different personality, a more, shall we say, sophisticated awareness. Ruby was more of an innocent, shy, soft-spoken."