Mamaw June?
“I think it’s time to go toourapartment,” I told him, standing and offering a grateful smile. “Thank you again for the lemonade and sandwiches. And the conversation.”
“Anytime, darlin’,” June replied, although something behind her smile felt off.
“Why don’t you and Henry join us for dinner at my apartment tonight, Zellie?” Pearlie suggested. “We can all celebrate your new job.”
I shook my head, already worried I had imposed too much. “Thank you, Ms. Pearlie, but I couldn’t—”
She waved away my protest. “Nonsense. We’ll see you at six.”
There was nothing for me to do but nod and thank them again. By the time we reached our apartment, Henry was already half asleep and getting heavier in my arms with each step.
When did he get so big?
“C’mon, baby,” I said, setting him down in the bathroom and grabbing a washcloth to remove the remaining dirt on his face. “Looks like you missed a few spots.”
“I don’t want to take a nap,” he said around a yawn. “I’m not tired.”
I arched a brow. “You’re about to fall over, Henry. You have to take a nap, especially when you play this hard. You know what will happen if you don’t get enough rest.”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
The effects of his condition and I were old friends. I’d spent too many long nights and days to count battling the headaches, dizziness, weakness, irritability… As I tucked him into his bed, I noticed his flushed cheeks, which would’ve looked healthy on any other child. But I grabbed the thermometer and took his temperature, just in case.
“I’m fine, Mama,” he grumbled, already drifting to sleep.
And he was. At least, his temperature was. It was probably just the effects of playing outside in the warm weather. I’d have to remind June to put sunscreen on him next time, even if they are playing mostly in the shade.
I entered the living room to grab a cookbook from the shelf—no way I was committing the cardinal sin of showing up to dinner empty-handed—when I thought I heard voices, low and bitter.
I frowned and stepped closer to the door, listening intently. It wasn’t coming from the fourth floor—too muffled and far away. I eased open the door and poked my head into the hallway. The arguing stopped. But in its place was a woman’s heartrending sobs.
I grabbed my keys and stepped into the hallway, searching for the source, but the crying had already faded by the time I shut the door behind me. For several minutes, I stood still, listening. But the only sound was the flapping of the curtains at either end of the hallway and the quiet whistling of the breeze.
Chapter seven
Icould smell something mouthwatering before I even reached Pearlie’s door and worried my deviled eggs wouldn’t be worthy of being on the same table. But I should’ve known better than to doubt the Johnsons’ hospitality. When Junior opened the door and saw the glass casserole dish of halved eggs filled to overflowing with a truly unexceptional concoction of whipped egg yolks, mayonnaise, vinegar, and paprika, he rubbed his palms together in anticipation.
“Is that some deviled eggs? You must’ve read my mind, Zellie,” he said, taking the dish. “I have been wanting some deviled eggs all day. Come on in, come on in!”
I don’t know what I’d expected, but stepping into their apartment was like walking into a museum curated by someone with impeccable taste. Their walls were adorned with African art that ranged from ancient relics to more modern art. Their furniture belonged in a design magazine, a blend of elegance and comfort, both modern and antique, with dark wood, bright fabrics, and clean lines. I was almost afraid to let Henry loose among such expensive pieces.
Junior set my eggs out on the dining room sideboard next to fried green tomatoes, cheddar biscuits, mac and cheese, salad, and a relish tray piled high with gourmet olives, marinated mushrooms, cherry tomatoes, and pickles. A moment later, Chase emerged from the kitchen carrying a serving tray with two roasted chickens and an abundance of potatoes, carrots, and parsnips.
“What’d I tell ya?” he asked with a wink. “Dinner at Pearlie’s is always a treat.”
“It all smells amazing!” I admitted, wondering when I’d last had so many choices in one meal. And just how many people Pearlie planned to feed.
My question was soon answered when June, Earl, and Addie arrived carrying desserts.
“Is this all of us?” Junior asked when Pearlie exited the kitchen carrying a pitcher of sweet tea. “Merilee not coming?”
“All for tonight,” Pearlie replied. “Merilee’s tending to Ms. Netty and Mr. Dean, who are both feeling poorly. Iris already had dinner plans, and Billy Wayne and Kitty weren’t up to it.”
There was one person missing whose absence I definitely noticed. There was a void in the room without him there.
“Is Whit coming?” I asked, trying to sound disinterested.
