Page 88 of Meet Me on Greenwood

A woman walked in with an air of disdain that could only come from insecurity. I remembered her from the dress shop. Lacey, I think her name was. Her eyes moved over us as if she was taking inventory.

"Rita Alderman," she said tightly.

Rita's posture changed almost imperceptibly. Just a small stiffening at the shoulders. "Lacey."

Lacey pressed her cheek to Rita's in greeting before stepping back, looking her over with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You look—" Lacey paused so briefly, it could have been accidental, "—well."

"As do you," Rita said politely.

Lacey's eyes moved to me. "And you look different. Greenwood seems to be agreeing with you."

"It is, thank you. Everyone is so kind."

"Gema is going to the ball with me. Remember the one you said wasn’t happening," Rita said sweetly.

Lacey twisted her lips. "Gema," she said tilting her head. "I've heard that name recently. Where have I heard that name?" She tapped one finger against her chin in a performance of trying to recall something she clearly remembered. "Ah. Aren't you the one that broke up Sarah Page and Dr. Whitaker's engagement?"

The room turned quieter around us. Rita's chin came up.

"I'm helping care for one of his patients," I said evenly. "Dr. Whitaker’s personal life is none of my business."

Lacey's smile held its shape beautifully. "I'm sure you are right. But you know how people love to talk. A young colored woman living at a white doctor's house..." She clucked her tongue softly. "It does make people wonder."

"People with nothing better to do," Rita said.

"Rita." Lacey put a hand to her chest in wounded delight. "I'm only telling you what others are saying behind closed doors. I'm being a friend." Her eyes slid back to me. "You should be careful. I don’t think the Pages like you very much."

"Thank you for your concern," I said.

Something in my tone seemed to briefly displease her. She'd expected more, but she recovered quickly.

"Of course," she said with a nod. "Save me a dance at the ball, won't you?" And she moved further into the room as easily as she'd arrived, leaving the air slightly altered behind her.

Rita waited until she was out of earshot. "I cannot stand that woman."

"She's frightened," I said.

"What makes you say that?"

I watched Lacey across the room, laughing with someone. Her performance was seamless. "People who are happy don't work that hard to tear other people down."

Rita seemed to think on it. "Perhaps you are right. She’s a social climber."

"Wouldn’t that require her to be nice to the people who could help her, you know—climb?"

She shook her head. "Where she wants to go she will never reach. She is not a part of Club Eight, but she desperately wants to be."

"Why can’t she?" I asked curiously. "I thought her father owned several boarding houses."

"He does, but he is a prolific gambler. He outspends what he earns."

"And her mother?"

Rita grimaced. "Not all of his establishments are upstanding. The rumor is her mother is a, well woman of the night."

I glanced back at Lacey again. She saw but pretended to ignore me. Suddenly I understood Camille’s comment at the dressmaker’s shop, when she invoked her mother and invited her to church. She was trying to remind her of her station in life. No longer did I see a rude, bitter woman when I looked at Lacey, though she was both of those things. I saw someone who was trapped in a web of her parent’s making. I gripped the amulet around my throat. Man did I understand that well.

"There is always a pecking order," I murmured. "No matter what time period."