“So we spent our last hour at Blackwood Manor trying to convince Jasmine that she was up to the task and once she got hold of it—she was already doing ninety-nine percent of the work—she would do fine. As to her pay, it was to be tripled. And Aunt Queen would have worked out a percentage of the profits, except that the percentage system frightened Jasmine, who didn’t want to have to figure it out.

“At last it was decided that our attorney Grady Breen would take over the bookkeeping and that Jasmine could devote herself entirely to supervising and to hostess work, and Jasmine seemed a good deal more calm. That way Jasmine could get her percentage without fearing she’d signed some sort of pact with the Devil. Meantime, all of us told her how beautiful she was, how polished she was and how overqualified she was, which did not help as much as we had hoped.

“Clem and Big Ramona promised to back her up completely, and with kisses and embraces, as well as Jasmine’s tearful farewell, we hit the road for New Orleans in Aunt Queen’s stretch limousine.

“When after a brief stop at the hotel to approve our fabulous digs we reached the Grand Luminière Café, Mona rose from the table and flew into my arms, making me the envy of every man in the place. She was wearing one of her big white shirts, complete with white ruffles and bows at her wrists, but I could see the intravenous port with its evil carbuncle of tubing and tape on the back of her inflamed right hand.

“I sat down at the Mayfair table with her, and in an intimate voice told her of what the doctor had said to Aunt Queen, that this might be her last trip to Europe.

“ ‘Oh, I approve utterly and totally of your going,’ Mona said. ‘You must, you absolutely must. I’m doing fine. My condition is stable. Look, I have to be wired up again tonight.’ She held up the bandaged hand. ‘Do you want to come up to the room? It’s not all that appetizing, I can assure you—.’

“ ‘I’m coming,’ I said. ‘I never made love to anybody who was wired up.’

“ ‘Good,’ she said in a sweet whisper, ‘because I have three or four baby quilts to ruin, and then we can read Hamlet to each other. I have a copy of Kenneth Branagh’s version with all the screenplay directions, and we can pretend we’re seeing it all over again. In fact, you can recite Gertrude’s speech describing Ophelia’s drowning, and I will lie as if dead on the pillow. I’ve already strewn flowers all over the bed. Oh, I am Ophelia forever,’ she sighed.