Page 43 of Meet Me on Greenwood

"Just a visit," I said tightly. "I won’t be staying long."

"Surely you’ll stay long enough for this foolish ball Rita’s family is cooking up."

Rita’s jaw dropped. "Lacey Mae, I never."

Lacey didn’t miss a beat. She peered lazily out the front windows. "My father said that maybe your family ought to stop riling people up with talks of balls and integration in your newspaper."

The room quieted in a way that was subtle, yet I felt everyone listening.

Rita replaced her smile with a sharper, fiercer one.

"My father reports the truth," she said evenly. "If the truth riles people, perhaps they should ask themselves why."

Lacey pursed her lips. "We all know why? They’re jealous of us. Our wealth. They don’t think we should have it. Why flaunt it in front of them?"

"If you wanted an invitation, you should’ve just asked," Rita replied.

Camille stepped forward gently, placing a calming hand on Rita’s arm. "I think we have everything we need, dear," she said lightly. "It is always lovely to see you, Lacey. Say hello to your mother for me. I hope to see you all in church this Sunday."

Lacey seemed at a loss for words. "Of course, ma’am I—"

"We know what you meant," Rita said, but her tone had softened a degree. "And we appreciate the concern. Truly."

I stood off to the side through most of it, half-dressed and pinned into position by Ms. Lansing's assistant, listening to the two of them smooth over whatever had passed between them without quite understanding the history behind those words. They did not like one another, that was for sure, but I couldn't put together why.

When at last I was done, I put on one of the off the rack dresses. It was a simple mint green with a drop waist. Rita reached for a pearl necklace from a stand and put the strands around my neck.

"This is too much," I said.

She waved her hand at me. "Relax. They aren’t even real. We’d have to go to Holman’s for that." She pointed to her own pearl necklace that was on a gold chain and not completely full. "These are real though. I’ve been collecting pearls since I was born. Mother always says a girl can never have enough pearls."

Camille smiled. "Grit under pressure becomes beauty." She looked to Ms. Lansing. "We will take this too."

"We will have the rest sent to your home," Ms. Lansing assured.

"I don’t know what to say," I said feeling speechless. My own father was not this generous. I had never wanted for anything but that was very different from being doted on and treated to nice things.

Rita linked her arm through mine. "Did your mother never give you pearls?"

"Rita!" Camille said. She looked genuinely mortified.

"It is okay," I said. "I don’t remember much but…" I pulled the amulet from behind my dress. "I am pretty sure this was my mother’s."

Rita’s eyes widened as she touched the stone. "I’ve never seen anything like this. Is it imported?"

"Rita!" Camille said, opening the door to the street. "Let’s go to lunch, and Rita please remember to be the lady I raised you to be."

Rita sighed beside me. I squeezed her hand to let her know I wasn’t upset.

Outside, the street beamed under the afternoon light. Men tipped hats. Children ran with paper-wrapped sweets. The scent of fried catfish and bread soaked in hot sauce floated toward us from the cafe down the block.

As we stepped onto the sidewalk, Rita acted as if the exchange with Lacey hadn't happened, her chatter picking up pace the way people's did, I was learning, when they wanted a subject good and buried. "I love catfish! You haven’t lived until you’ve had a proper southern catfish. Come on!"

18

Houston

Grandmother Uses Sage Tea to Darken Gray Hair