“It will be strange,” Mother had told Judith and Elisha. “If you come with me, I don’t want to hear about that, do you understand? And I definitely don’t want to hear about any hurt feelings from either of you. You know what your great-grandmother is like.”

They did. They were used to Great-Grandmere ignoring them. But they still wanted to see the Castle. It had been finished for more than a month, and Judy’s friends kept asking her about it, if she’d seen the inside, what was it like. Everyone knew what the outside was like.

From a distance, anyway.

As the car pulled close to the bridge to Pity-Me Island, Elisha leaned forward from the back seat and said, “It doesn’t look like a castle. Why does everyone call it a castle?”

“I think they’re being sarcastic,” Judy said.

“Oh. Sar-ca-stic,” he said, sitting back. “It still doesn’t look like a castle. Last summer in New York, that was a castle.” While they were visiting Mainland last year, Dad had booked them for a week into a hotel in New York called The Castle, complete with turrets, a moat, and suits of armor guarding the halls. Elisha had adored it.

“The Chrysler’s here,” Mother said as they pulled up. “Leon and Marion must have arrived.”

Uncle Leon let them in, and Judy had the chance to look around while he and Mother exchanged the usual adult ritual after he and Mother pecked each other’s cheeks. Judy always thought of the calls and responses at Mass when she heard it. How was his flight from New Orleans, Mother asked.

Fine, and how was Bill doing?

Fine. He had work to do at home. How was Marion?

The room was modern. Very modern. Lots of glass, lots of light, even a television set. Everyone knew Great-Grandmere liked things to be up to date and shiny.

Fine, Leon was saying. Marion was feeding little Gwen and would be out later.

He didn’t bother to say where Great Grandmere was.

Now it was Judith’s turn to respond and Mother’s turn to look around. Leon remarked to Judith on how much she’d grown and asked how she liked High School.

Fine.

Was she really a junior now?

She said yes she was.

Leon did that adult thing of looking surprised and saying that time as sure passing quickly, he could remember when she was just so high.

Elisha, after doing a quick circuit of the room had returned to stand nearby and stare intently at Leon.

“And… how is Elisha?” Leon asked, looking a little nervously at his nephew.

Elisha responded by doing what he always did on those rare occasions when he was in the same room with his uncle. He stepped forward, opened his mouth to as if to answer, and then just stared at Uncle Leon with an expression of stunned disbelief.

The answer, obviously, was that Elisha was still Elisha, but nobody said so.

“Yes,” Leon said vaguely into the little patch of silence.

Then Uncle Leon flashed his white grin. “Let me show you around the outside,” he said. “The view is incomparable.”

Leon loved the house. Judy could tell from the way he spoke and gestured, pointing out the tall windows that would “maximize natural light” and talking about how it was built from “local materials.” “Pity-Me Island has a truly rich history,” he said, as they walked around to the back.

“You wouldn’t believe the things the workers found here while they were digging. Native fishing hooks going back centuries, arrow-heads, a whaler’s harpoon, even an old cutlass.”

“And look,” he said. They walked to the edge of the back yard.

“Isn’t it magnificent?”

“It’s lovely” Mother said. Then she turned and walked away. Judy caught Leon’s eyes and smiled. “It’s really great, Uncle Leon,” she said.

“Isn’t it Judy? Isn’t it great?”

Elisha stepped towards his uncle and fixed him with his intent stare.

Judy had once read a description of what Elisha was doing in a book assigned in school. Nicholas Nickelby, that’s what it was. Elisha was staring Uncle Leon “out of countenance,” and it was rude, but once Elisha started doing this it was impossible to get him to stop short of actually cold cocking him with a bottle. Judy just hoped Uncle Leon understood about Elisha.

“Your mother is looking at the pool,” Leon said, turning away.

It was huge. It was beautiful and clear and inviting, and Mother let out a faint snort as they approached.

“Leon,” Mother said, “What, in the name of the Twelve Apostles, is this for?”

“It’s beautiful, Brigitte,” said Leon.

“And Grand-mere is going to use it? Or no, wait, she’ll invite all her many great-grandchildren over to splash around? Right? Can you even imagine that?”

“I just think it’s beautiful, okay?” he said irritably.

Mother sighed. “It’s getting late,” she said. “Let’s go in and get this over with.”

They stepped in, then moved aside for Leon and Elisha because Leon was in a hurry too, walking quickly in his long, graceful strides, with Elisha behind him.

Elisha’s fascination with Leon was unusual. He rarely cared much about people. But when he was interested in something, he tended to be really, really interested, and for some reason Leon was something that really, really, interested him. Once, Judy had asked him why.

Elisha had looked around, then leaned forward and whispered loudly, “Because he is ab-so-lu-tely insane.”

“A-llo,” said Grandpa sang from his chair as Leon disappeared into the kitchen. “Did everybody have a nice stroll?”

“Yes Papa,” said Mother, bending to kiss him on the cheek, “It was all very educational.”

“I think it’s a beautiful house,” said Grandma. They must have arrived while Leon was showing them around, and Judy looked at Grandpa’s lined, pale face a little anxiously. He’d already been slowed down by the stroke three years ago, and his heart attack last spring left him so quiet, so easily tired. As always, he took one of Judy’s hands in both of his and gave it an affectionate squeeze. She noted how cool his palms were and felt a brief stab of worry.

“My pretty, bright little Judy,” he said. “And your brother is here too! How nice.”

Elisha was standing at one of the large windows and staring, his brow furrowed, not at the view, but at the glass. His breath left a pale, smudgy circle on it.

“Il commence,” Great-grandmere said in her rich, strong voice.

She seemed to have not so much come into the room as materialized.

Mother let out a long sigh through her nose and said nothing. They had come to the true purpose of the gathering.

And yes, Mother was right. It was strange.

A door opened and Uncle Leon entered with Aunt Marion carrying little Gwennoelle.

Judy often wished she knew that branch of the family a bit better, but that was when she was at home and feeling curious — not when she was in the same room with them. Then they sometimes made her uneasy. Leon stood close to his wife and looked around as though drawing a circle around the three of them and daring anyone to cross it. Aunt Marion looked doubtful but resigned.

Little Gwennoelle just watched everyone with her green eyes.

Great-Grandmere stepped towards them and stopped, her eyes on the child. She seemed to be thinking. To Judy’s shock, Mother turned her back on the group and walked away to look out through one of the big windows at the sunset.

Great Grandmere drew closer to Leon and his family. Judy expected her to do what most old ladies would do, reach out and touch the baby, coo over it.

Instead, the old woman just looked at her namesake, who looked right back at her. Little Gwen’s eyes were unimpressed, but she did seem to lean a little more tightly against her mother.

Great Grandmere stepped back and looked at Leon. The silence seemed to stretch, and Judy glanced over at Grandma and Grandpa.

Their faces revealed nothing.

“Tres jolie” Great Grandmere finally said, in a voice heavy with polite disappointment.

“Grandmere,” Uncle Leon began, and then he spoke, not in French, but in that other language, the one only the older people seemed to really understand.

At the sound of Leon’s voice, Elisha turned around to goggle at him again.

Mother still stared out her window. Judy knew she hated hearing that language. Hillbillly French, she called it. Elisha and Judith called it Ong-ong.

Judy could comprehend more of it than she’d ever admit to her mother. Her French was good, which helped a lot, and it just took a little extra effort, context, and some logic for her to put the pieces together. From what she could gather, Leon was talking about his little girl. So clever…so strong…

Babies intrigued Judy, and this one in particular had piqued her interest. She edged around the little group to get a closer look. Great Grandmere was talking now.

Ordinary…And something about Leon being grateful that the baby was… Unafflicted? And then a lot of words Judy couldn’t understand at all, while Leon looked disappointed and Marion looked like she’d love to be somewhere else right now.

Judy quickly edged behind her great grandmother mother and stepped into little Gwen’s line of sight. Leon stopped talking to great grandmere long enough to give Judy a hard, warning stare for standing close to the baby. Little Gwen looked over her shoulder and met her eyes.

“Could I hold her just for a moment Aunt Marion?”

Judith was startled when little Gwen snapped “Non!” in a piercing treble, hugging her mother tightly.

“I’m sorry, Judith,” said Marion, hiking the baby up a little higher on her hip. “She’s a bit shy.”

“She really is beautiful,” Judith said. “And she’s talking! How many words does she know now?”

“Oh, Gwennie has quite a vocabulary.” Said Marion. She didn’t smile proudly as she said it, the way most mothers would. She looked apologetic, as though she were truly afraid Gwennie had hurt Judy’s feelings. “Well over 300 words. And she’s forming sentences. Dr. Graves says she’s very bright.”

Marion looked down at Gwennie who was pressing her cheek against her mother’s shoulder and glaring at Judy. “I just wish she were more sociable,” she said.

“Well, she’s obviously smart,” said Judy. “And so healthy.”

“She is that.”

A door closed. Uncle Leon and Great Grandmere, still talking quietly but intensely in Ong-ong, had stepped into another room and shut the door for privacy.

It was as though suddenly the ceiling had gotten three feet higher. Mother turned away from the window. Grandpa smacked his hands together stood up, and called “Where’s my little girl?” and Marion smiled and walked over to him, holding out Gwennie, who gurgled happily and held her fat little arms out to her grandfather, while Grandma murmured “the little darlin’…”

Grandma and Grandpa moved over to the sofa and sat down. “Goodness,” Exclaimed Marion looking around. “How dark it is in here. The sun’s gone down.” And she clicked on her heels briskly about the room, turning on lamps.

“Mother!” Elisha bellowed as if someone had just removed a gag from his mouth. He pointed at the little box across the room. “Great-Grandmere has a TELEVISION!”

“Um Hmmmmm,” Mother said. “Lower your voice, please.” She had moved over to the sofa. Her eyes were on Grandpa.

“Now, Papa, I want to talk to you for a moment. Madelyn Toomey told me that yesterday she saw you at the Beach Patio during the lunch buffet. You were drinking a cocktail with that Roy Bonney! I hope you only had one. And did he at least help you down those stairs to the patio? Madelyn didn’t see your cane anywhere. You know that is not acceptable.”

“You what?” Grandma’s eyes narrowed. “Dr. Graves said only one drink a day.” Judy looked out the window, pretending to be fascinated by the stars.

“Merci Brigitte,” Grandpa said dryly. “It was just the one drink…”

“Plus the Sazerac you had after dinner.” said Grandma. “That’s two.”

“Leon is home from Tulane. It was a special occasion. Surely a man and his son can share a drink after dinner?”

“And you should not be gadding about without your cane” Mother said. “Especially if you’re going to take all those stairs.”

“I hate walking with that thing.”

“Why, for pity’s sake?” asked Grandma. “Do you want to wave at everyone?”

Judith hoped nobody would notice her. They might stop talking, and these conversations always fascinated her.

At home, Mother’s word was law and she the pattern for all to follow. Her name at home was “Bridget,” and she sometimes talked about her brother, “Leon” who, Mother said, was either “troubled” or “trouble,” depending on her mood.

But when she visited the Dudays, Mother was demoted to daughter and sister. She was “Brizzheeet” (or, if Aunt Laurette were there and talking about Mother to someone else, “that one”) and Uncle Leon was “Layong” and Layong was not troubled trouble but the son and heir who was going to be a lawyer and continue the family Duday’s upwards climb.

Marion’s voice came from somewhere near Grandpa. “Blame me, Brigitte,” she said.

“I was the one who mixed the Sazeracs. I knew Papa already had a martini at the Patio, but I thought just this once it wouldn’t hurt for him to enjoy an extra evening drink with Leon. Just a little one.

“But Papa…” Marion’s voice was now terribly serious. “You know you need to take your cane whenever you go out, don’t you? You really should.”

Grandma’s about-face from irritation to relief was so abrupt Judith could almost hear a sharp click as she changed direction. “Oh, well, Marion” Grandma said. “I didn’t know you knew about the extra cocktail.”

“If you think it’s all right, it probably was.”

“You are correct, cherie,” Grandpa said, and Judy heard him sigh with the air of a man big enough to admit when he was wrong. “I promise from here on I will take my cane wherever I go.”

Judy glanced over her shoulder. Mother was pressing her lips together and looking coldly off to the side, her sign that she was too irritated for words.

Aunt Marion was smiling at Gwennie, a playful, suspiciously satisfied smile.

Judy quickly turned back towards the window. She wished Tante Laurette weren’t stuck at home nursing Uncle Artiste back from the flu. Last Christmas Eve at The Rose, Judy had listened to Tante Laurette and Aunt Marion gently and effortlessly bat Mother between them like two girls playing badminton. She’d felt disloyal, but entertained.

“I’m done!” announced Elisha in a voice just below a shout. He’d finished staring at the television, apparently committing every dial and button to memory. “Can I look around? Can I go see what else Great-Grandmere has?”

A line appeared between Mother’s brows. “Don’t open any closed doors,” she said. “You need to respect her privacy.”

“Don’t worry, ma fille,” said Grandpa, bouncing Gwennie on his lap. “He could not go where Maman would not want him to go.”

“Judith, go with your brother,” Mother said. “And don’t be too long. We’re leaving soon. I need to start dinner when we get home.”

Mainly what Judy noticed was stairs.

First there were the stairs that started up in the living room, not old fashioned winding stairs but oddly bare in a broad modern way.

Then up, not so much to another floor but a roof with rooms built onto it, big windows looking into empty looking spaces. The place didn’t seem like just one house to her, but three small modern houses stacked one on top of the other.

Elisha looked around for a moment.

“Look,” he said, and hurried over to the other side.

For a minute they stood gazing out at the water, the spit of land curving in front of them with its cliffs and its green top.

“Mag-ni-fi-cent view,” sang Elisha. “I wonder who’s going to live here?”

“Great-Grandmere lives here now.”

“All by herself? Do you think Leon and Marion and the baby will live here too?”

Judy thought for a moment. “I don’t think Aunt Marion would like that,” she said.

“Oh, Aunt Marion’s a pushover!” declared Elisha. He was probably repeating something he’d heard Mother say.

“No, actually, she’s not.”

“Okay.” Elisha thought for another moment. “Then maybe just Uncle Leon? He doesn’t live with Aunt Marion now anyway.”

“That’s because he’s in law school in New Orleans. When he graduates in a few weeks he’ll come back to live with his family. I think he’s going to work for Great-Grandmere.”

“Here? In this house?” Elisha reached out and squeezed the railing in front of him. He turned away.

The next flight was the last.

“It’s Mother’s table,” said Elisha, his voice low and a little frightened. “How did it get here?” He stepped back. He was never supposed to be anywhere near Mother’s table.

“No its not. It just looks like her’s. This must be Great Grandmere’s.” She understood Elisha’s reaction. It not only looked but smelled like Mother’s table, like burnt candle wicks and molasses and lavender and something acrid and heavy, like alcohol. Judy looked around. “There has to be an elevator somewhere. How else would she get up here? She’s so old.”

“She can fly.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

A table. Grandpa had one. Mother said Tante Laurette had one, too, and Uncle Greg and Cousin Lee in California probably had tables. It was some sort of family hobby, brought over from the Old Country.

“Look! A regular table!” Elisha exclaimed, obviously relieved. He practically ran to the other balcony.

It was, like everything else, very modern and, Judy thought, rather ugly and so far the most inexplicable thing in the house.

A table. A dining table with chairs. Set practically on the roof.

Elisha settled himself in a chair at one end. Judy took the seat next to him. It was weird, but kind of exciting to sit there and look around to see sky and stars around you, tree-tops and the town spread out in the distance. “We can’t sit here long, Elisha,” she said. “Just for a minute. Then we need to go back downstairs.

“I call this meeting to order,” said Elisha.

“…and I declare this house ab-so-lute-ly insane! and name it Castle Not because it’s like no castle I’ve ever seen.”

Judy smiled. “Why? Because there’s no moat?”

“Because here’s no cigarette machine in the lobby!”

“Who ever heard of a castle without a cigarette machine in the lobby?” he asked.