“That’s funny,” Lady said, laughing.
“Seriously, though, I thought that having different colored skin was like having different colored hair.”
“I’m sure that’s the way God intended it,” Lady said. “Too bad old snotty pants Betty doesn’t get it.”
“Miss Willa has never been anything but kind to Mama and me.”
“That’s because she loves you. And Mavis is her best friend.”
Nell shifted toward her. “That’s my point, though. Old Bucktooth Betty would never be friends with her help.”
“She might if Mavis was her maid. Your mama is a special person. Everyone who knows her loves her.”
“Humph! Everyone but Bucktooth.”
“Don’t take it personally, Nell. Mrs. Buckley wasn’t criticizing you and Mavis. She was attacking my mother.”
They were quiet for a few minutes as they watched a flock of ducks fly by overhead. Several clusters of people were walking along the seawall, exercising after a day of feasting.
“Do you ever miss your father?” Lady asked.
Nell rolled her brown eyes. “That’s a stupid question. How can I miss him when I never knew him?”
Lady nudged her. “You know what I mean. Do you want to meet him, to find out who he is and where he lives?” She’d asked Nell many times before about her father but had never gotten much of an answer.
Nell slumped her shoulders. “Not really. Mama refuses to talk about him. I get the impression he isn’t a nice person. If I could meet anybody in my family, I’d like to meet my grandmother.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because grandmamas spoil their grandchildren. Like your grandmother spoiled you.”
Lady smiled as she remembered her maternal grandmother. Granna had been a character, much like her daughter. Lady came from a long line of interesting and strong-minded women, a line that had reached a dead end when she was born.
Nell continued, “I love Mama so much, I’m curious about her parents, about her roots.”
“Do you know what happened to your grandparents?”
Nell shook her head. “Except that they’re both dead.”
“I’m sorry, Nell.” Lady rested her head on her best friend’s shoulder.
“At least I have you. Forever,” Nell said, and they recited their sacred pact in unison. “Together, forever. Let nothing or no one ever come between us.” They sealed the pact with their secret handshake—fingers clasped together, thumbs and pointers forming the shape of a heart.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BOOKER
Booker’s head buzzed with excitement as he waited for his mom to come out of the dealership. He was getting a newer-model car than he’d expected with fewer miles than he’d hoped for, and he had to wait only one more day. The 4Runner was sweet, even if nautical blue wasn’t his first choice in color.
Whatever had gotten into his mom lately, he approved of the assertive manner in which she’d handled the negotiation process. She seemed determined not to leave the dealership until they’d made a decision on a car. And Orlando Holland was all too happy to oblige, even if he had to stay late to close the deal.
“It could be tomorrow before I find what you’re looking for, or it could take a month,” Orlando had explained when they first arrived. “These things are hard to predict, Mrs. Grady.”
His mother had cringed at the sound of her married name. She’d gone from loving his father to despising him in a day. “Please call me Nell. And next month won’t work, Mr. Holland. We need a vehicle now. Can’t we figure something out with one of these?” She spread her arms wide at the row of SUVs. “You’re motivated to sell, and we’re motivated to buy.”
He chuckled. “All right, then. I’m sure we can work a deal on one of our demos. As long as you call me Orlando.”
“I can do that,” Nell said, bobbing her head with enthusiasm.
“Then let’s go inside to my computer and check the inventory.”
Orlando identified a 4Runner the dealership was willing to part with, and his mother talked him as far down on price as he could go. She instructed Booker to wait in the car while they discussed financing.
Booker was scanning radio stations thirty minutes later when she finally emerged from the building.
She tossed her bag into the back seat and fastened her seat belt. “We’re all set to pick up your new wheels tomorrow evening after work.”
“Thank you so much, Mama. I love you.” Booker stretched across the center console and kissed her cheek. “I don’t know how you made that happen so fast.”
She smiled at him. “Sometimes, son, you have to strike while the iron is hot.”
They talked about the car all the way back across town. “We need to make a quick stop at the Harris Teeter,” she said as she exited Highway 17 toward the grocery store. “I didn’t have time to go earlier today, and there’s nothing at home to eat for dinner.”
“Do you want me to cook steaks on the grill?” he asked as they entered the store.
“Steak sounds good. Why don’t you go to the butcher counter while I get everything else on the list.” She freed a cart from the line parked inside the door and headed off toward the produce section.
Booker had long since taught himself how to cook on the grill. Too many nights his mother would have the meat du jour all ready for the grill—steaks seasoned, hamburger patties made, baby back ribs rubbed—only to have his father fail to show for dinner. They would never have to wait for him again.
Booker knew which cuts were leaner and which had more flavor. After perusing the selections, he ordered two fillets from the butcher and waited for his mother at the checkout area.
Despite his elation over getting a new car, Booker couldn’t stop thinking about Regan and her family as he scraped the grill rack with a wire brush. When his mom brought the steaks out to the patio, he said, “Tell me about Regan’s family. How did you know each other back then, and why haven’t you ever mentioned them before?”
She let out a sigh. “Can we please not talk about this right now?”
“Sorry, Mom, but you’re not getting off that easy,” he said as he forked the steaks onto the grill. “We can play it one of two ways. I can annoy you until you tell me what I want to know, or you can save us both the headache and come clean on your own.”
“Fine. I’ll tell you everything over dinner,” she said, and returned to the kitchen to finish tossing the salad and warming the bread.
When he took the steaks inside, Booker was relieved to see his mom had set two places at the counter. He hated to ruin his good mood by having to stare at his father’s empty seat.
Booker shoveled his food into his mouth, but his mother’s plate remained untouched as she told him about her upbringing. She’d never known her father, which Booker already knew, and her mother had died when she was fourteen—also old information. But the news flash that her mother had worked as a maid for the Bellemores caused him to freeze in midchew. He set his fork down. This was not at all the story she’d repeated to him over the years whenever he’d asked about her family. “Go on,” he said, deciding to save his questions for when she finished.
“My mother was their employee, but they treated us like family. Lady and I were only four months apart in age, more like sisters than friends. I was allowed to roam the house as though it were my own. I even napped every afternoon in Lady’s room until we were too old to nap. Only at night, when we retreated to our tiny apartment at the rear of the house, was I reminded of my mother’s position. Mr. Bellemore was a successful investment banker who worked long hours and was rarely home. Most of the time it was the four of us—Lady, Miss Willa, Mama, and me. We were like the modern-day version of lesbian mothers raising their children. That house was full of a special kind of love, a love that’s difficult to explain.” His mother’s eyes glazed over, and her voice broke. A long minute passed before she continued. “When Mama passed away, Miss Willa asked me to live with them
. A year later, she adopted me.”
He balled up his napkin and tossed it onto his plate. “That’s just great, Mom. We have this whole other family that I know nothing about. What does that make Regan, like my cousin or something?” He leaped to his feet and paced around the kitchen as he tried to process what she’d told him. He stopped on the other side of the counter facing her. “None of this makes any sense. Basically, you created a false background for yourself in everything you’ve told me about your family.” He ticked off points on his fingers. “Your mother was a teacher. The principal of her school took you in after she died. You lost touch with the principal when he moved with his family to Arizona after you went away to college.” He leaned across the counter to her. “If you had this big Kumbaya lovefest with the Bellemores, why did you lie about your upbringing?”
His mother, refusing to meet his eyes, stared down at her uneaten food. “It’s complicated, son.”
“It seems pretty simple to me. You were embarrassed to admit your family is white.”
“The Bellemores aren’t my family,” Nell said.
“Yes, they are. If Miss Willa adopted you, she’s your mother in the eyes of the law. What happened to you that made you hate white people?”
Her jaw dropped to her plate. “I don’t hate white people. What on earth would make you say such a thing?”
“Because it’s true. The anger is written all over your face whenever you’re around a white person. You’re standoffish, as though you don’t trust them.” He was on a roll, and he couldn’t stop himself from saying things he’d wanted to say to her for years. “Something happened to you somewhere along the way that made you that way, and I want to know what it is. I’m not like you. Primarily because your prejudice has been such a turnoff for me. I don’t judge people based on race, religion, or sexual orientation. In fact, I try not to judge people at all. I realize that everyone is born into different socioeconomic situations, and I admit it irritates me when people don’t make the most of their God-given talents, but I don’t hate them because of the color of their skin.”
When Booker paused to catch his breath, his mother said, “Are you finished?”
He was just getting started, actually, but his mother’s wounded expression prompted him to back off. “Just tell me the truth, Mom. I don’t judge other people, and I won’t judge you.”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure I can. I’ve never told anyone. Not even Lady.”
“Will you try? Talking about it might release some of the anger.”
His mother stared intently at him, although Booker suspected she wasn’t really seeing him. After a long minute, she pushed back from the counter and walked her plate over to the sink. She wrapped her steak in foil and placed it in the refrigerator. She removed a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream from the freezer and two spoons from the silverware drawer. She handed him one of the spoons. “Let’s go sit on the patio. It’ll be easier for me to say what I have to say under the cover of darkness.”
Outside on the patio, Booker lit the gas logs in the fire pit. They moved their lounge chairs close together to make sharing the ice cream easier.
“You’re the last person I thought I’d ever tell my story to,” his mother said. “But now that I think about it, you’re just the right person to hear it. I was only a year younger than you are now when it happened. There’s an important lesson for you to learn here, not only as my son but as a young man.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
NELL
1981
Nell had never been disillusioned with her place in Lady’s world when they were growing up. She was different from Lady’s other friends. Her mother was the help. She attended a different school. She was of a different race. But neither Lady nor her friends ever treated her unkindly, at least not when they were young children. They included her in most of their activities. They rode their bikes to one another’s houses, splashed in sprinklers on hot summer days, and played kick the can in their yards at night. There were times when she felt left out, when they went places Nell wasn’t allowed to go, like sailing at the yacht club or dancing at cotillion. But they never intentionally hurt her feelings.
Smaller clusters of friends existed within their larger peer group. Mindy Bowen was the leader of their fearsome threesome. Nell and Lady had known Mindy since they were old enough to explore the neighborhood on their own. She lived around the corner with her parents and her older brother by eleven months, Hank, the rascal who was forever playing pranks on them. Mindy, a scrappy little thing with wicked green eyes, stood barely five feet tall and had a spirit as carefree as the mop of brown curls springing from her head. Because of her small size, she had to fight harder to protect herself against her brother. Although Mindy complained incessantly about Hank, Nell knew her friend secretly worshipped him.
Mindy and Nell started planning Lady’s surprise party before Christmas, more than a month ahead of her sixteenth birthday in January of 1981. They enlisted Miss Willa’s help in organizing refreshments and scheming a way to get Lady out of the house while they set up for the party. The calendar gods cooperated by arranging for Lady’s birthday to fall on a Saturday. To occupy her time, Mindy took Lady to lunch at the Marina Variety Store Restaurant and to the afternoon matinée to see 9 to 5, a movie starring Dolly Parton, which Nell was happy to miss. After loading up on junk food, soft drinks, and helium balloons at the grocery store, Willa and Nell stopped in at the bakery for the sheet cake and the sandwich shop for the party-size sub Willa had ordered.
They were unloading the car when Willa received a call from her friend Lynn Collier, inviting her to come for an impromptu dinner that evening.
“You’re sweet to include me, Lynn, but we’re throwing a surprise birthday party for Lady.” Willa paused while Lynn argued her case. “In that case, how can I say no?”
“Say no to what?” Nell asked when Willa hung up the phone.
“To Lynn’s cousin, the handsome widower she’s been trying to set me up with for ages.”
“But . . .” Nell stared at her, dumbfounded. “Are you seriously going to miss the party after we’ve worked so hard to make everything perfect?”
“I’ll be here to greet everyone, and then I’ll get out of your hair and let you kids do your thing. You don’t need an old lady like me around anyway.” Recognizing her concern, Willa patted Nell’s cheek. “You worry too much, sweetheart. I’ll be right down the street if you need me.”
After unpacking the groceries, they donned their aprons and spent the next couple of hours in the kitchen. They made brownies and cookies and cocktail weenies. They popped enough popcorn to string ten Christmas trees and mixed up a large bowl of ranch dip for the vegetable tray. Nell made several batches of cheese biscuits using her mother’s recipe. Miss Willa had hired and fired half a dozen maids since her mother had passed away. She’d finally given up trying to find someone suitable. “None of them measure up to your mama,” she’d said, and divvied up the household duties between the three of them.
After they finished cooking, Willa and Nell moved to the den for the decorating. They tied a bouquet of balloons from the ceiling fan, draped pink crepe paper streamers from the fan to the edges of the ceiling, and hung a cardboard garland that read SWEET SIXTEEN from the doorway. They’d just finished lighting a fire in the fireplace, the last of the party preparations, and Nell was on her way upstairs to change, when Mindy and Lady returned home from the movies.
“I can’t wait to tell Willa about this movie. She’s gotta go see it. She’ll love it.” Lady started toward the kitchen, but Mindy grabbed her by the arm.
“Tell her over dinner,” Mindy said, herding her up the stairs. “We need to hurry up and change.”
They’d invented a birthday dinner at Poogan’s Porch to throw Lady off the surprise.
Nell dashed up to her room to freshen up and change into her dress. Twenty minutes later, she was back downstairs waiting to greet the first guests. When she’d invit
ed their friends to the party, Mindy had instructed them to come quietly around to the back door and dared them to breathe a word of the surprise to Lady. A group of twenty—boys dressed in khaki pants, button-downs, and penny loafers, and girls in Fair Isle sweaters and colored wide-wale corduroys—hurried up the driveway as their parents dropped them off at the curb. Nell took their presents from them and directed them to find a place to hide in the room. She dimmed the lights and managed to keep everyone quiet while they waited for the signal.
Willa’s voice broke through the silence. “Fetch my coat for me, Lady. I think I left it in the den when I came in from the store. Check the closet. And hurry, else we’ll lose our reservation.”
On a mission to retrieve her mother’s coat, Lady flipped the switch, and light flooded the den. Their friends shot out of their hiding places in a collective chorus of surprise. Much to Nell’s delight, Lady seemed genuinely surprised. Her face glowed red as the crowd gathered around her to wish her a happy sweet sixteen. Miss Willa circled the room greeting each of their guests in turn before making her departure.
No sooner had she driven off than Mindy presented a bottle of tequila to the birthday girl. “Here’s your present.”
Lady stared at the bottle as if it were a live grenade. “Where’d you get that?”
“My cousin bought it for me,” Mindy said, grinning as if she’d accomplished some great feat.
Todd, the star basketball player for Lady’s school, punched the air with his fist. “Woo-hoo! Crank up the tunes. Let’s get this party started.” Mindy had put Nancy, their friend with the best taste in music, in charge of the stereo. She placed the recent hit single “Lady,” by Kenny Rogers, on the turntable. Someone cleared the coffee table, and someone else slammed down two shot glasses, a shaker of salt, and a bowl of lemon wedges.
Nell had not been privy to this aspect of the party planning, although she wasn’t surprised. A lot of their friends drank alcohol. They raided their parents’ liquor cabinets every weekend. She’d sipped beer before with Lady at other parties but never hard liquor. Never Jose Cuervo tequila.
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