“Why did you take so long?” Caroline face is red and swollen, as if she’d stuck it into a beehive. “Oh, it burns! Make it stop!” She fans her face with her hands, which are also inflamed.
I set the bowl on the table and fill it with water. Etta Raeis about to dip a dishcloth into the water when Caroline dunks her entire face into the bowl.
Water spills everywhere. Etta Rae puts her dishcloth to work. “Easy, Miss Caroline.”
Caroline reappears, water streaming down her cheeks, turning her silk riding habit from blue to black.
Etta Rae clucks her tongue. “The doctor will be here soon. He’ll have an ointment or some such. You’ll be fine.”
“I certainly willnotbe fine! That nigra ruined my looks. She’s ruined me!”
“It’s just temporary. Like when you got the poison ivy. Jo, fetch more ice.”
Noemi’s smiling face appears in my head, and my teeth clench. I clutch at the banister as I hurry downstairs, feeling suddenly unsteady on my feet. It will take more than ice to soothe Caroline’s wrath.
Twenty-One
Dear Miss Sweetie,
I get shucks in the foot from time to time and my freind told me to salt a tomato and wrap it around the shuck and after a day the shuck will pop out, and I wunder if it is true.
Much oblijed,
Shuck in the Foot
Dear Shuck in the Foot,
That seems like a waste of a good tomato, and not much good for a splinter out of season. The simplest solution is already in your cupboard: vinegar. Soak the foot in a bowl of vinegar, and in about twenty minutes, the splinter should have broken through the skin enough to pull out.
Yours truly,
Miss Sweetie
P.S. Do not reuse the vinegar.
—
The doctor leaves calamine lotion, saying her rash should be gone in a few days. If only there were a salve for her foul temperament, we might all rest more comfortably.
I carry a basket of wet things down the stairs, but stop when I see Etta Rae standing just outside the kitchen holding a vase of bluebells. She puts her finger to her lips as I creep closer, professional eavesdropper that I am, and though she frowns at me, she doesn’t shoo me away.
“No, ma’am,” Noemi says. “Celery, onion, pickles, mustard, oil, vinegar, lemon juice, and salt. Like always.”
“What about the bread?”
“Potato buns ain’t got pepper.”
A long pause follows, during which Etta Rae and I exchange worried expressions.
“Take tomorrow off,” Mrs. Payne says at last. “The weekend, too. Caroline will need rest and quiet, and—”
And she will need to be convinced that Noemi has not tried to poison her.
Etta Rae’s usually erect head seems to sink into her thin shoulders.
“I understand, ma’am,” Noemi says hoarsely.
The sound of Mrs. Payne’s boots straightens our postures. Etta Rae busies herself arranging the flowers on a table. I continue toward the kitchen, sidestepping Mrs. Payne coming out. “Oh, Jo. I’m afraid the sight of Caroline’s face will shock her when she wakes up. Find all her looking glasses and put them in my study.”
