The air in the ballroom of the La Boueff mansion buzzed with a chaotic symphony of laughter, clinking glasses, and the off-key crooning of someone attempting a spooky ballad. Confetti shaped like tiny ghosts and bats littered the polished floor, and the scent of sweet pralines mingled with the faint aroma of damp masquerade masks. I navigated the throng of costumed revelers – a pirate captain here, a surprisingly convincing werewolf there – when my gaze snagged on a vision in frothy pink.

Towering over most of the other guests, a woman in an elaborate confection of tulle and lace, adorned with more bows than a Christmas tree, held court with a small group of admirers. Her laughter, a high-pitched, almost bird-like trill, punctuated the general din. As I edged closer, drawn in by the sheer force of her vibrant presence, her eyes, wide and sparkling with an almost childlike enthusiasm, locked onto mine. A dazzling smile, revealing perfectly aligned teeth, bloomed on her face.

"Well, hello there, handsome!"

she exclaimed, her voice dripping with a sugary Southern drawl that could sweeten a whole pot of chicory coffee.

"And who might you be hiding behind that… intriguing mask?"

She gestured towards my own (rather hastily assembled) domino mask with a flourish of a gloved hand, each finger sparkling with a different oversized ring.

"Come on over and tell Charlotte all about yourself!"