“Don’t you curse at me. Maggie is a liar. She didn’t want nobody to know about me.” Her eyes are red-rimmed, and her skin darkens.
I pace and can’t stop shaking my head.
“She was an orphan. You two were neighbors. She would’ve told me.”
“Told you what? That she had a mother who was alive, who she only bothered to see, or talk to, or write to once in thirty years? What kind of child doesn’t want to see her mother? What kind of woman is Maggie White?”
“I should go so you can calm down.”
“You remind me of Maggie,” she said. “When the going gets tough, she makes hay in the other direction. Runs at the slightest heartache. A coward.”
Damn. “I’m not a coward,” I say calmly.
“And I told you not to curse at me.”
What the hell? “I didn’t say anything.”
“I can read your mind.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“See. There you go, cursing again.” Her eyes close and lights out. Clear the auditorium. Beyoncé has left the building.
“Honoree. Don’t pretend you’re sleeping. I know you’re awake.”
“Sawyer, I could hear you halfway down the hall.” Lula stands in the archway of Honoree’s room, not looking pleased. “What’s going on? This isn’t good for her.” She gives me a crippling glare. “This kind of bickering isn’t good for either one of you. Come on. Get out of here.” She steps aside to let me pass and follows me. “I can’t believe you raised your voice to Miss Honoree.”
I close my eyes briefly. Lula didn’t witness the last time Honoree and I got into it. But I can’t explain. “Sorry.”
“Have you forgotten she’s an older woman?”
I am pacing in the hall outside her room. “Of course I know how old she is. But did you hear what she said?”
“No, Sawyer. All I heard was shouting.” Lula touches my forearm, an effort to stop me from pacing, which works.
“I have the day off tomorrow,” she says. “How about if you meet me at the Harold Washington Library. My aunt Deidre works there. She can help fill in some of the gaps about Micheaux in Chicago in the 1920s. I think you—and Miss Honoree—could use another break from each other. Sawyer? What do you say? Library. Aunt Deidre?”
In light of what has just been told, a trip to the library could prove or disprove Honoree’s latest tall tale.
“Yes. Yes. I don’t need any more research on Micheaux, though. Will your aunt help me find everything there is to know about Miss Honoree?”
“Miss Honoree?”
“Her family, her friends, where she was born, where she lived, everything and anything that can be documented. Can she do that?”
Her expression of concern is replaced by curiosity, and she says, “I’ll ask her. I’m not sure what she’ll find, but I’m sure she’ll try.”
It’s more than I can expect. “Excellent.”
CHAPTER 30
HONOREE
Late November 1925
For the next week, before and after the show, Honoree (and sometimes Bessie) was invited to the Armstrong house for parties, lunches, and noodle juice—and the consumption of finger sandwiches with names such astutti frutti, devildine,orbeef jelly.All eaten while drinking the brown-colored lukewarm water called tea. None of which were the bee’s knees Honoree had imagined.
Lil’s china tea set was very pretty, though. The lips of the cups were gold-trimmed, and the paint didn’t rub off when Honoree scratched the rim with her fingernail. Decorated with hand-painted pink flowers, they reminded her of a hydrangea garden.
