The Governor’s Sons

by McKenzie, Maria

  The older Robinson sister, Earline, put a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle a laugh. “We know Mr. Bedford didn’t mean none of what he said,” she whispered loudly, “‘cause he kept a colored woman.” Kitty’s mouth fell open. At this Earline added, “And he kept her a long, long time.”

  “Now, I tol’ y’all to hush!” Izolla snapped. “You don’t need to be airin’ nobody’s dirty laundry!”

  “Aunt Izolla—is—is that true?” Kitty said.

  “Cat, we ain’t here to gossip.” Izolla threw Earline a nasty look, which the girl completely ignored.

  “‘Course it’s true,” Earline replied smugly. “Mama knew her.”

  “And she always had fine clothes,” the younger Robinson sister, Nadine, giggled, “and a car. That’s what Mama said.”

  Kitty gasped. “Aunt Izolla—”

  “Chile,” Izolla interrupted, “no more lollygagging, you get out there and work.”

  Kitty sighed, adjusting the white ruffled cap and apron she wore over a black satin uniform. “Yes, Ma’am.” She picked up the silver platter of hors d’oeuvres, then backed out of the kitchen through the swinging door.

  After a few steps on the polished hard wood, Kitty’s low black heels sank into the plush Oriental carpet that covered the floor in the spacious dining room. Guests laughed and chatted pleasantly, while a thin haze of cigarette smoke filled the air. Ice cubes clinked against glass, and Kitty heard the classical music of a string quartet playing softly in the background.

  The long dining room table was draped with Irish lace and burning candles flanked a large crystal bowl filled with a bountiful arrangement of blue hydrangeas. A feast of sweet and savory was spread from one end to the other, surrounded by hungry party goers, eager to indulge.

  Platters of liver pate, caviar, finger sandwiches, deviled eggs, and cheese balls sat alongside dishes of fresh fruit, nuts and mints. Huge cut glass bowls near one end were filled with ambrosia and punch, while at the other end sat a pineapple coconut cake.

  Walking through the dining room, Kitty saw “The Torch” followed by what she assumed to be a group of political admirers. She wondered if they knew about his “dirty laundry.” Before this evening, all Kitty had known about Bedford was that he’d governed the state during the 1920’s. He’d gotten his nickname from his fiery speeches that advocated the importance of keeping colored people oppressed and in their place, separate from whites.

  A broad smile split Bedford’s face as he rapidly approached the food. His large stomach preceded him, and he appeared to carry it proudly. A widower, Bedford was bald with a big nose, and he wasn’t very tall. Besides his money and power, Kitty couldn’t see what any woman would want with him. His colored woman probably wasn’t anything but a whore.

  In addition to the guest of honor, Aunt Izolla had told Kitty that all those in attendance hailed from old established families. Ash’s mother refused to invite any new money to her parties, especially new money attached to white trash roots.

  Earlier in the evening, Kitty had seen Ash hobnobbing with the political big shots present, no doubt for the benefit of his future political career. From brief snippets of conversation she’d heard while circulating, Kitty had learned who quite a few of the guests were. But Ash no longer hobnobbed. Instead, he, along with Heath, flirted their way from one end of the party to the other, as though competing in a sporting event.

  All the young ladies were elegantly dressed in gowns that must have cost hundreds of dollars. When Kitty approached the expansive living room, she saw Ash flirting with the county prosecutor’s daughter. The raven haired beauty resembled the movie star Kay Francis.

  Kitty had lost track of how many girls she’d seen Ash with tonight, but the one most desirous of his attention was Miss Lillian Ann Thompson, the mayor’s daughter. Whenever Ash spoke to a different female acquaintance, Miss Lillian Ann would appear almost instantly.

  Even now, as Ash talked to the Kay Francis look-alike, Kitty saw Miss Lillian Ann, a stunning strawberry blond, forcefully striding his way. Her green eyes matched her provocative emerald gown, a backless number that plunged nearly to her behind. She wore no brassiere, and a high front slit revealed her long slim legs.

  Once at Ash’s side, Miss Lillian Ann flashed his companion a nasty green glare. With that, the young lady immediately excused herself. Though Kitty had been watching Ash throughout the evening, she’d kept her distance. But she’d see him looking for her. Each time their eyes met, he’d discreetly smile, nod, or tip his glass in her direction.

  Kitty decided to approach him. She wanted to see if he’d pay more attention to her than to Lillian Ann. Ash wasn’t interested in Lillian Ann; she was chasing him. And even though Ash flirted with all the pretty girls, Kitty hadn’t seen him seek out any of them as he’d sought her.

  Kitty chided herself. Other than the covert recognition he’d given her, he could hardly do anything more than that out in public. And in an atmosphere like this, she was supposed to be invisible.

  Regardless, Kitty wanted to see what would happen. When she strode toward them, Kitty heard Lillian Ann tell Ash that they should go outside. But Ash didn’t respond. He was too busy looking at Kitty. To Kitty’s satisfaction, she’d distracted him.

  Kitty then held the tray in front of them, but she noticed that before Lillian Ann could detect Ash’s interest in the hired help, he quickly dropped his eyes to the food Kitty carried. Miss Lillian Ann perused the platter until she found something that met her approval.

  Ash declined the hors d’oeuvres, but winked as Kitty turned to go. Miss Lillian Ann, too preoccupied examining her stuffed shrimp, didn’t notice this. Still within earshot, Kitty heard Miss Lillian Ann call Ash’s name loudly, as though trying to get his attention. Then she heard Ash reply to Lillian Ann’s earlier suggestion. “Do you want to get me outside alone just so you can take advantage of me?”

  Kitty tried not to laugh, but instead circulate as quietly and invisibly as possible. She wasn’t jealous. Ash’s flirting almost amused her, because for some strange reason she felt supremely confident of his attraction to her. Although this feeling was pointless, Kitty still reveled in the emotion.

  Kitty peeked over her shoulder. She caught Ash’s gaze just before Miss Lillian Ann grabbed his arm.

  ****

  Kitty glanced at the clock over the stove. It was well past midnight and the party was over. The last guests had departed only moments earlier. Now Kitty worked hard at the sink washing dishes with Betty Jean standing next to her drying. Both had removed their shoes.

  The swinging door swooshed open, and Ash’s mother, Miss Joan, swept into the kitchen rapidly waving her Chinese fan. The windows were wide open to let in the cool night air and the ceiling fan whirled around at full speed, but Miss Joan appeared oblivious to this. She strode to a window beyond the sink near the opposite end of the kitchen.

  Her face flushed and perspiring, she said, “These hot flashes will be the death of me yet. I don’t think I’ll ever be cool again.” She closed her eyes and continued fanning as the breeze from the window washed over her. “I thought by the time I turned fifty-five I’d be through with all this. But,” she laughed, “I was sadly mistaken.”

  Miss Joan was tall and thin. A sea green beaded silk gown gracefully adorned her figure, while glistening white diamonds dangled elegantly from her ears. Miss Joan still kept her chestnut hair long, but wore it pulled back in a large bun at the nape of her neck. High cheekbones and refined patrician features made this style particularly flattering on her.

  “I’m glad the party’s over. The heat was becoming unbearable,” Miss Joan said. She walked from the window toward Kitty and Betty Jean. Standing at the sink, their backs faced her. “But you girls certainly helped make Mr. Bedford’s party a stunning success. Ya’ll did a fine job this evening.”

  Kitty and Betty Jean turned slightly to thank her.

  “Your mother raised you to be ladies. I can’t say the same for those drea
dful Robinson girls—such common Negroes.” Miss Joan took a deep breath. “They’re tolerable for an evening, but I couldn’t bear to have them working in my home every day. I don’t know what I would’ve done this summer if Izolla hadn’t told me about the two of you.”

  Miss Joan was a bit tipsy. Kitty had seen her drink at least four glasses of champagne during the party, and now Miss Joan began rambling on and on about the lack of good help around, tonight’s party guests, the food, and her difficulty trying to find a gown that was flattering at her age. Kitty wished Miss Joan would go to bed so she and Betty Jean could quickly finish their work and get home.

  “I’ve interviewed about a half dozen girls,” Miss Joan had found her way back to the topic of hired help, “but you two will be hard to replace when the fall rolls around. I just can’t seem to find a new live-in maid that suits me. My last girl was wonderful. But she got married and moved away. That was the worst possible thing that could’ve happened to me.”

  The girls continued washing, but every few moments, Kitty or Betty Jean would offer an “um hum” or “uh huh” to Miss Joan’s rambling.

  “Well, I’m pleased to know that what I’m paying you, contributes to your college tuition. You can achieve anything with hard work and an education.”

  “Yes, Miss Joan.” Kitty turned and smiled at her employer, while Betty Jean nodded in agreement. By paying them handsomely, Kitty reflected, Miss Joan considered herself a great white benefactress.

  “I so admire you girls. It’s hard enough being a woman. And as colored girls, I know the road ahead will be even more difficult. But just work hard, and as my mother used to tell me, don’t do anything stupid.”

  Although Miss Joan could be a bit scatterbrained at times, Kitty appreciated her respect and admiration. Joan Ashton Kroth was the daughter of a doctor whose family owned thousands of acres in the southern part of the county. Her mother, however, had actually been a rich Yankee from New York. Mrs. Ashton had brought a touch of culture to Joy Hope by opening a creative and cultural arts center in town.

  The swinging door opened again. “Thanks to all Izolla’s good food,” Mr. Louis exclaimed, “I might not need to eat for a week!”

  Kitty smiled, glancing over at Ash’s daddy, Mr. Louis Kroth. He rubbed his slightly pudgy stomach with one hand, but held the other hand behind his back.

  “Mr. Louis,” Kitty said, “are you hiding something?”

  “That’s for me to know and you to find out.” He laughed.

  Mr. Louis was a lawyer and politician, gregarious by nature, and always full of surprises. He stood over six feet tall and had a commanding presence. His hair was completely white; he blamed that on Ash. Mr. Louis was almost sixty, but still attractive and he resembled Heath. They shared the same kind eyes and pleasant smile. Between Miss Joan and Mr. Louis, Kitty thought, Mr. Louis generated the most warmth.

  “Before you girls leave tonight,” Mr. Louis said, “I have a little something for you.” Kitty and Betty looked over their shoulders just as Mr. Louis revealed four bunches of red roses mixed with white carnations from behind his back. Surprised, the girls stopped what they were doing and dried their hands.

  “Oh, Mr. Louis,” Kitty said, “you’re just as sweet as sugar! They’re beautiful.” After being employed in Mr. Louis’s home for only a few weeks, Kitty still couldn’t believe he’d written all those hate filled speeches her parents had told her about.

  Just as Mr. Louis handed two bouquets to Kitty, Ash casually sauntered into the kitchen. He propped himself near the swinging door, then flashed Kitty a mischievous smile.

  “Give one of those to your mother,” Mr. Louis told Kitty. When he handed a bunch of flowers to Betty Jean, he asked where Izolla was.

  “She went to bed a little while ago,” Betty Jean said.

  Mr. Louis gave her the fourth bouquet. “Put these in water for her and set ‘em on her dresser.”

  “Yes sir!” Betty Jean put the flowers down, then pulled out a vase from under the sink and began filling it with water.

  “Joan,” Mr. Louis said, “these girls have worked long enough for one night. I’m gonna go ahead and drive them home.” He’d already given the butler, who doubled as chauffeur to Miss Joan, permission to leave.

  “No,” Miss Joan said firmly. “These dishes have to be washed tonight.”

  “Betty Jean, you go ahead,” Kitty said. “I can finish up, then I’ll walk home.”

  Ash stepped forward, removing his black tux jacket and white bow tie. “I’ll be glad to help Kitty.” He placed the jacket and tie over a kitchen chair. “Then I can drive her home.”

  Miss Joan hesitated while Ash opened the first button of his starched white shirt. He unfastened his cufflinks, then dropped them in his pocket. “Well,” she sighed, watching him rollup his shirt sleeves, “I suppose that’s alright—as long as it gets done.”

  ****

  “You’re faster than Betty Jean,” Kitty said as she watched as Ash dry the dishes.

  “A man can do anything better than a woman.”

  “You just better hush your mouth, Ash Kroth!” Kitty laughed.

  “Since we’re about half way done,” Ash said slyly, “I think I’ll help myself to a little indulgence.”

  Kitty froze. Though he’d kissed her several times since that day in the peach orchard, she'd let each kiss last only seconds before pushing him away. Now Kitty wasn’t sure what to expect. But when Ash walked away from her, Kitty realized she had no need to worry. She relaxed and began washing again.

  “I have a weakness for Izolla’s pineapple coconut cake.” When Ash reached for the cake pan, Kitty froze again. “Every time she makes it,” he said, “I treat myself to just a sliver. But you eat too much of that stuff, you’ll blow up big as a house.”

  When Ash opened the pan, he found it empty. “Well, I’ll be. She made three--and the last one was hardly touched.” He hesitated. “I thought I saw Betty Jean take it from the dining room right before the party ended.”

  Kitty didn’t say a word. Miss Joan had wanted the cake out of the house so she wouldn’t be tempted to eat any. She’d told Kitty and Betty Jean to take it home. But instead, they, along with Aunt Izolla, had eaten the whole thing and scraped the plate clean.

  “You have any idea what Izolla did with it?” Ash asked.

  “No, but—I and Aunt Izolla and Betty Jean, we uh--all had some. Your mother said we could. I suppose—Betty Jean and Aunt Izolla must have—um—finished it—that is, while I wasn’t looking.”

  “Well, it’s no secret Izolla likes her own cooking.” He smiled. “I reckon I didn’t need it anyway.” Ash walked back to Kitty’s side. “I’ll wash the rest, you dry.”

  Kitty thanked him and switched places. “I suppose you were in your element tonight with all those pretty girls around.”

  “You mean those pretty girls were in their element around me.” Ash winked.

  “You’re a rascal.” Kitty laughed. “I don’t know why I let you help me with anything.”

  “Because you want me to—and you like being around me. Puts you in your element.”

  “Well, if you aren’t the most arrogant thing!”

  “Admit it Kitty,” Ash continued teasing, “you can’t get enough of me, can you?”

  She clicked her tongue and smiled. “You’ve got some nerve!”

  After a few moments, Ash said softly, “Kitty, I’d really like it if—you were in your element—when you’re with me.”

  Kitty laughed until she caught a glimpse of his hazel eyes. There was no mischief in them now, only what appeared to be a reflection of his heart. “You know I am.” She held his gaze for a moment then looked away.

  After a few seconds, Ash asked, “Did you really mean that?” She nodded. “Kitty, I want…”

  She waited for him to finish but he didn’t. “You want what?”

  “What I mean is—what I want to know—well just who is Russell? You won’t tell me anything about him or whether
or not you’re seeing him. Don’t give me any of that ‘none of your business’ stuff—just tell me who he is.”

  Kitty was silent for a moment. “He’s a nice boy I know. As a matter of fact, I’ve known him—and his family practically my whole life. He just never noticed me, that is, until I started Maretta University. He goes there, too. And last year, when I started,” she shrugged her shoulders, “he got interested. He did like Betty Jean, but she never gave him the time of day.”

  “He liked Betty Jean?”

  “Of course, she’s the pretty one.”

  “Pretty one, with those Coke bottle glasses?”

  “She’s pretty behind those Coke bottle glasses, and she’s light. That’s what men like. She takes after mama, but I’m dark like my Daddy.”

  “Kitty, I think you’re beautiful, and your skin is gorgeous.”

  “Ash! Stop saying things like that and making fun of me!”

  “I’m not making fun of you. It’s true. And you have something else, too. Remember that movie star, Clara Bow?”

  “A little.”

  “When I was a kid, I used to sit in the picture show and watch her movies over and over again. They said she had ‘It.’ That’s what you have--something extra special that most other women don’t, especially the ones like Betty Jean.” Ash smiled when Kitty laughed. “Alright, so Russell’s a nice boy and he’s interested in you.”

  She stopped drying and looked into his eyes. “He says he loves me.”

  Ash winced at her words. “Do you love him?”

  “No—but he’s a good man.”

  “Kitty—I—I…”

  “What, Ash?”

  “Nothing.”

  They worked quietly until all the dishes were washed and dried. When Ash reached for his car keys on the kitchen counter, Kitty purred, “Since my house isn’t that far away--do you mind if we walk?”

  He smiled. “Not at all. I was hoping you’d want to walk, but you’ve been on your feet all night. I didn’t think—”