Page 52 of Meet Me on Greenwood

Gema turned back. "Monday is perfect."

Dr. Brown clapped his hands. "It is settled. Now, take some of my pamphlets and give them to your friends."

He brought the women to his table, and I made to follow until I heard, "Dr. Whitaker?"

I turned to see the familiar face of one of Sarah’s close friends—Jess Reymer, I think her name was. I never liked her, and though she was Sarah’s friend, I never felt like Jess cared much for her either.

I became aware, with sudden clarity, that I’d lingered too long. Tulsa's laws on the matter were not subtle. Whites and Negroes did not mix, and certainly not for thirty minutes of easy conversation at a colored physician's booth, regardless of how loose the atmosphere of the carnival felt.

Jess had seen me. Which meant Sarah would know soon enough.

I straightened my jacket and walked toward the group with the unhurried ease.

"I should go," I said apologetically.

"Yes, son." Dr. Brown said. "Enjoy yourself."

The lights of the Ferris wheel blurred red and gold as Jess crossed her arms in open disapproval. "I just don’t understand why you feel like you need to talk to those people," Jess lamented.

"It was a professional conversation. Dr. Brown was trying to recruit a new physician to the hospital."

"As if those people could be professional." That came from Bonnie Sterling, Gray’s youngest sister.

I bit my tongue, holding onto the things I wanted to say to her.

"Let them be," Jess continued. "We should hurry if we are going to catch Sarah’s first event."

The stands were already half full by the time Jess steered us to our seats. Sarah's mother, Rebecca, had saved one of the booths that wealthy families could pay extra for. She patted the spot beside her, and I obliged, settling my hat in my lap.

"She's been practicing her introduction all week," Rebecca said, leaning toward me conspiratorially. "I told her to not slouch when she speaks. She gets nervous and reverts back to her old habits."

"She'll be wonderful," I said.

Rebecca opened her fan it seemed more for nerves than heat. "You know, I won Miss Tulsa twice back in my heyday."

I smiled, having heard this story more than once. "I am not the least bit surprised. Sarah clearly gets her beauty from you."

She patted my arm. "She is so lucky to have you."

The pageant opened with a procession of twelve women in white gloves and summer dresses, walking the length of the stage to polite applause. Sarah was eighth in line. She moved well, chin lifted, with a smile she reserved for rooms she intended to influence. Rebecca gripped my forearm.

The presenter called each woman forward to introduce herself. The crowd responded warmly to each one.

When Sarah reached the microphone, her voice was clear and the applause that followed was genuine and I clapped with everyone else.

I checked my watch, realizing the sun would soon set. I’d left Mr. Hatley for far too long. After two more events, including the swimsuit and the talent, where Sarah had sung America the Beautiful, I attempted to excuse myself.

"I must get back."

Rebecca held tightly to my arm. "No! Evening is next. You can’t miss evening. I think she will be one of the first women to present."

I sat back down and looked at my watch once more. The sun had truly set now, and one contestant became two, then five, then a dozen, the evening gowns blurring together under the lights as Rebecca's "one of the first" stretched well past what either of us could have predicted. I wrung my hands, thinking of Paul, as I realized Sarah was going to be the very last contestant. She wore a bright pink gown with crystals starting from the bodice and dripping like ice to her skirt.

She found me in the stands before she'd even reached her mark, flashing that small private smile.

I smiled back.

"Could you reintroduce yourself to the audience?" the presenter asked.