Blanche Among the Talented Tenth (Blanche White series Book 2)

by Barbara Neely

  Blanche looked away. She knew that line of conversation wasn’t going to take her anywhere she wanted to go with this man.

  “Did you play with Hank when you were kids?”

  Stu slowed his steps. “My dad was his godfather, you know that. He was at our house a lot in the summers. Dad used to call him his ‘Little Brown Bomber.’ Dad was real light, like me.”

  “Were you surprised when he committed suicide?”

  Stu shook his head. “This wasn’t the first time he tried. He just didn’t succeed before.”

  “You didn’t like him,” Blanche stated, rather than asked.

  “You met him. What was there to like? He had the personality of a cardboard box. I never understood what everybody saw in the guy—Dad, Carol, Mattie. I have to admit I envied him all that affection. Only one thing we had in common, that’s how I’d do it, too, if I were going to commit suicide. Right out to sea.”

  “Why do you think he did it?”

  Stu shrugged. “Too sensitive for his own good. Too inward, maybe. People like that get easily bruised. Especially men. Both his parents died within months of each other, about four years ago. That probably didn’t help.”

  “Both of them? I thought Mattie said his father died recently.”

  Stu stopped and turned to her. “She told you that?”

  Blanche was no longer so sure. Mattie had told her so many things. “I’m probably mixing him up with someone else.”

  Stu started walking once again. Blanche got the impression he was deep in thought. She didn’t interrupt.

  They ate lunch at a wooden table on a pier not too far from his shop. She could hear the waves sucking at the piles as though they were lollipops. Blanche loved the taste of the lobster just cooked in sea water, but was not so delighted to learn the restaurant was part of the lobster pound. The idea of hundreds and hundreds of lobsters being held in pens beneath her, waiting to be sold in the winter when the price was higher reminded her of prisoners waiting to be executed. If she let her mind linger there too long she’d never be able to enjoy another lobster. Large gulls wheeled over a fishing boat headed toward shore. She breathed in the smell of brine and freshly caught fish and marveled at the beauty of the sea and the cliffs far to her right, gray and glistening like fortress walls.

  “It must have been wonderful growing up here, seeing this every day of your life.”

  “Not every day. I was sent to boarding school so I only got to spend my summers here after the age of six, although I begged to go to the local school. My dad wouldn’t even consider it.” Stu paused and looked out to sea. “I think it’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.” Emotion deepened his voice. “I ached to come back here to live. Dad wanted me to be a doctor. I always wanted the shop. At school, I’d put myself to sleep at night pretending to be measuring out pills and giving elderly ladies advice about how and when to take them. I memorized the placement of every jar on the two back shelves.” He shrugged. “Of course, nowhere’s perfect. The winters get lonely. Sometimes I drive down to Portland just to walk around among black people. That surprises you,” he told her in response, she was sure, to the look on her face.

  “Yeah, I guess it does.”

  Stu waited for her to go on.

  “I’m surprised because I didn’t think someone who looks like you and was a boarding school kid, would necessarily want to hang with everyday black people,” she said.

  He took her hand. “Don’t confuse me with the light-skinned creeps you’ve known, Blanche. OK, I messed up about the work thing. But that doesn’t automatically make me an Oreo.” He grinned at her. “Or maybe you think vanilla wafer is a better choice?”

  Blanche had to laugh but she wasn’t ready to let him off the hook. “Well, you can see how I’d come to the conclusion that you weren’t the type of person who’d want to hang out with people who make their living doing things not too different from what I do.”

  She watched Stu’s eyes go from teasing to somber. He leaned further back in his chair. “Yeah, I can see how you might think that.” He looked directly into her eyes. “But here I am. Maybe my instincts work better than my brain sometimes.”

  Yes, there was definitely more to this man than showed on the surface. Something you, of all people, should have suspected, she chided herself. She looked down at his pale hand lying close to hers. “What would your people say if they saw us sitting like this?” she nodded at their hands lying side by side.

  “You mean my family?” Blanche nodded and Stu went on. “Mixed reviews. My mother would be accepting but pained, since no woman could possibly be good enough for her one and only bouncing boy.” He grinned. “My dad would be delighted. He was into Garvey, you know. Loved everything black—including my mother. She was about your complexion, maybe darker.

  “I once brought an Asian woman friend home. I thought Dad’s teeth would fall out. He made it very clear what would happen to my inheritance and relationship with him if I dared think of marrying outside the race.”

  Blanche was truly surprised. It was the last thing she’d expected. She wondered how much of a part color had played in Stu’s parents’ marriage.

  “Color nearly tore our family apart,” Stu said, as if answering her question—something that happened to her so often she was no longer surprised.

  He looked out to sea, although Blanche doubted he was really seeing it. “My mother never really fit in with my father’s family, or most of the folks at Amber Cove. She was just as smart and well-educated as any of them, and from as fine a family, too. But, well, she was just too dark for them.”

  Blanche smiled at the way he announced this, as though he could hardly believe his own words and was afraid she might not believe them either—which was pretty funny, given what she and his mama had in common.

  “Dad was always making Mother go places they both knew she wasn’t really comfortable or welcome—parties and dinners with the Amber Cove set, for instance. I never heard anyone say anything nasty directly to her, but I overheard plenty, the way children do. It’s amazing the way adults act as though kids are too stupid to understand what’s being said in front of them. A lot was said in front of me. As I got older, I began to wonder how much of it was being said on purpose. A sad and rueful smile softened Stu's face. “And, of course other kids made sure I got the message.”

  Blanche moved her hand closer to his. "How did you handle it?"

  Stu shrugged. “Pretended I didn't hear it. Punched kids who repeated the crap they heard their parents say about Mother when I couldn’t ignore it. Wet the bed until I was nearly thirteen.”

  Blanche was beyond impressed with his openness. But being Blanche, she wanted more. “How did your parents deal with all of that?” she asked.

  Stu crossed his arms. “Dad said Mother was lucky to be so richly complected. He harangued her about it not letting stupid fools spoil her fun, as he put it. Then he gave up. I don’t know why.” Stu hesitated, as though he were trying to order the past in his mind. His voice was a bit lighter when he continued talking, as though he’d gotten through the worst. She seemed happier once she stopped socializing and so did he. But she became more and more withdrawn over the years until she would hardly leave the house at all. Dad seemed to need other people more and more. He was hardly ever home evenings or weekends. When he was, he paced a lot.”

  Blanche listened to the feelings in his voice and heard a lonely boy whose parents were more involved with themselves than they were with him.

  “And what about you?” Blanche asked.

  Stu turned his head so that their eyes met. “Me?” he snorted. “I was just the shadow. You see, Dad was very disappointed that I didn’t inherit Mother’s coloring. It was as if he felt less black because he was light-skinned, you understand what I mean?”

  Blanche nodded.

  “All my life he was saying things l
ike, ‘Boy! Why don’t you get some sun,’ or, ‘Boy, you don’t have as much color as a vanilla shake!’ ”

  And godson Hank was his Little Brown Bomber, Blanche thought, even though he hardly qualified as brown. Another variation on the color fuck-up.

  Stu stretched and smiled at her. “So that’s my sad story, what about yours?

  Blanche obliged with a quick version of growing up in a small, Southern community of little or no means and the costs and benefits of that. “Nobody may have said anything ugly directly to your mother, but plenty was said to me,” she told him. “If I had a nickel for every time I’ve been called ink spot, coal bin or little black Sambo; or for the times a playmate’s parent made it clear they didn’t want anyone as black as me playing with their child, I’d have enough money to buy my own country, not that being comfortably off makes any difference, as you know.”

  When she got to the part in her story where she decided to stick with domestic work instead of taking up nursing, like her now dead sister, or clerical work, or some other career, she expected some comment from Stu, but none came. He was obviously on his best behavior. “So, when my sister died, I became Taifa’s and Malik’s guardian,” she told him.

  “And what about marriage?” Stu wanted to know.

  “Never has interested me all that much,” Blanche told him and slammed the door on Leo in a cutaway jacket and spats.

  “Too independent,” he said without a bit of doubt.

  “I could be a bit set in my ways,” Blanche agreed. “But that goes with the territory. You’re single. You know what I’m talking about.”

  “Yeah, I’m single all right. Not that I expected to be at this age. I turned forty last year! By now I thought I’d have a family, a couple of kids. At least you’ve got that.”

  They’d finished their lobsters and were working on their second glasses of iced tea. Blanche looked at her watch. “I really enjoyed this,” she told him. Once again, his eyes brimmed with pleasure.

  “How about coming out on the boat with me tomorrow? She’s a real beauty.”

  “Let me think about it,” she told him. “I haven’t spent much time with the children and so much has been happening around here. I just want to feel them out, make sure they’re OK.” Blanche was aware that he hadn’t suggested bringing the children along.

  “And what about your shop? Isn’t Saturday a big day for you?”

  Stu’s mouth tightened. “There aren’t any big days in the ye old pharmacy and ice cream parlor business when there’s a forty-flavor franchise around the corner and a cut-rate pharmacy chain in the shopping center down the road.” Stu knocked back the last of his tea. “Like they say, be careful about what you ask for, you just might get it. I did and look at me—up to my butt in debt and competition growing like Topsy. What the place needs is a face lift, a gourmet coffee bar, maybe. But that’s another story.”

  When they parted, Blanche hurried back to the cottage. She wanted to be comfortably settled near a window that looked out on the porch when Veronica arrived. The tea things were already on the porch when Blanche reached the cottage and Tina was hovering over them, as if she were afraid the sugar might escape. Veronica arrived about ten minutes after Blanche.

  “I thought we’d have tea out here on the porch.” Tina didn’t ask Veronica what she thought about the idea. Blanche chuckled to herself and admitted she didn’t think Durant was good enough for Tina. Too concerned about what his mama thought to be mate to a strong, smart woman. Blanche couldn’t decide who was more nervous. Tina definitely showed it most. Her voice had a serious tremble in it, and Blanche could tell Tina was smiling too much. She’d regret it later. Veronica was icy. It might have been on purpose but Blanche thought it was tension, the same tension that made her clear her throat again and again. They discussed the weather, the beauty of the Maine Coast, the tastiness of Tina’s box cake, and the uniqueness of Blanche’s apple-spice iced tea. But when Veronica said “Tina, my child,” Blanche knew the heavy stuff was about to begin. She leaned forward in her chair.

  “Tina, my dear, thank you so much for providing us with this opportunity to talk to each other woman to woman, as it were.”

  Blanche could feel Tina waiting for the punch line.

  “My son tells me that he wishes to marry you.”

  Tina was silent.

  “His father and I are so very proud of Durant. He’s going to make a fine biochemist. But to do that, he needs to concentrate on his research before settling down and taking on the respons…”

  “Didn’t he also tell you I don’t plan to marry for at least five years?” Tina’s voice was louder than it needed to be, but the tremble was gone.

  Now Veronica was silent.

  “Didn’t he tell you that? Didn’t he?”

  “Well, yes, he did say…”

  “Then what is it you really want? It’s not to keep us from getting married too soon, because you already know that’s not going to happen.”

  There was a long silence broken only by waves lazily caressing the beach.

  “All right.” Veronica’s voice had a sharp edge. Blanche pictured her squaring her shoulders and sitting tall. “Frankly, we wonder if you and Durant are really suited to each other. We just don’t want Durant, or you, to do anything foolish. Believe me, we have both your interests at heart.”

  Blanche wished she could step outside and pitch Veronica off the porch, and to think she’d had some sympathy for that cow. But Tina didn’t really need Blanche’s help.

  “Please do me the courtesy of telling me why you think I’m unsuitable for Durant.”

  Blanche admired the question. It sure wasn’t what Veronica expected and definitely not a question she’d want to answer.

  “Well, you come from different backgrounds. You have different, er, ah, frames of reference, ways of being in the world.” Veronica’s uneasiness made her voice go as nasal as a kid with a crayon in her nostril.

  “You mean I’m poor and black and he’s rich and light-skinned? I don’t think that’s such a barrier. I expect to have my own career, so I won't make him poorer. And the black doesn’t rub off, except on your future grandchildren, of course.”

  Veronica’s intake of breath was sharp and loud.

  Blanche had to clamp her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming with laughter. Damn! that girl had guts. She’d be a super-Diva by forty-five.

  “How dare you…” Veronica began, but didn’t get any further.

  “How dare I what? Be more honest with you than you are with me?”

  “I think perhaps I should leave.”

  Blanche heard the rustle of Veronica rising from her chair.

  “Good idea. I’m sure you’re eager to tell Durant about our little discussion about his future.”

  Blanche gave Veronica some time to get away from the cottage before she went outside. Tina was looking furious, frustrated, and defeated all at the same time.

  “I won’t cry! I just won’t!” she insisted as tears gathered in her eyes.

  “Well I would,” Blanche told her. “Best thing in the world for getting bad chemicals out of your body and a nice shower will get the last of that bitch off your body.” Blanche put her hand on Tina’s shoulder.

  The young woman reached up and covered Blanche’s hand with her own. Tears slipped down her cheeks. “Oh, Blanche! I meant to be nice! I planned to stay on subjects people don’t fight over. I wasn’t even going to mention Durant. He’d really convinced me to try to make her like me, see me as a person, not as her future dark-skinned daughter-in-law. How could I have been so stupid?”

  So they are planning to marry, Blanche thought. Too bad. On this one thing, she totally agreed with Veronica.

  “Love and sex, honey. Either one can make you do the damndest things. The two combined will make you a sure ’nough fool. And stop blaming yourself f
or Veronica’s meanness. She came here to say her say. Wasn’t too many other ways it could have gone down. And you won that wrestling match, girlfriend, trust me.”

  Tina tried to smile but didn’t quite make it. “You know what really makes me mad? A part of me wants to believe people like her can be made to see how stupid it is to look down on other people.”

  Blanche patted Tina’s shoulder. “Well, I got to admit that’s right up there with believing in Santa Claus. Still, you were trying to do the right thing. Myself, I can’t decide if you should get a medal or have your head examined. I am sure of two things: I wish I could have seen Veronica’s face when you told her about those possible black grandbabies!”

  Tina laughed with Blanche. Their laughter had more vinegar than sugar in it.

  “What’s the second thing?”

  “The other thing I know is that Durant can’t possibly deserve to have you in his life.”

  Tina grinned from ear to ear. But later Blanche had to convince Tina that she should join her and the children for dinner at the Big House. “What you hidin’ from? She’s the one ought to keep her head down.”

  “No. It’s not her, it’s Durant,” Tina confessed. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him about what happened. When I do…well, I just don’t want him to have to choose between me and his mother.”

  The quaver in her voice and the uncertain look on her face told Blanche that Tina wasn’t at all sure which choice Durant would make and that she cared very much. Blanche wished she didn’t.

  “Listen honey, this ain’t about Durant. This is about you, about whether you’re woman enough to stick by what you say and what you feel, regardless. If Durant can’t handle it, you might as well know that now.”

  While Tina took a shower, Blanche called Mattie and gathered from her response that dinner with four children was not exactly Mattie’s idea of a treat. They agreed to meet for dessert.

  The dining room was nearly empty when they arrived. The girls had decided to weave multicolored beads into their hair. Every time someone came near them, they arched their slender necks, preening, sure their matching beadwork was being noticed. Blanche sighed. Another one of the things women had confused. All you had to do was look at the rest of the animal kingdom to see who was supposed to be dolled up for whom. She gave Malik and Casey a looking over. They had surprised her by wearing ties and jackets. Blanche didn’t argue with them, although she did mention that if she were a man, she'd never slip one of those nooses around her neck.