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

by Barbara Neely

  Other questions slipped up to take first place. How would her conversation with Mattie and Carol have been different if they’d known she cleaned houses for a living? She didn’t entertain the possibility that there would have been no difference; she’d been around too long to believe that. Why was it that the work a woman did in her own home was praised, while doing the same work in someone else’s home made you a lesser being? Is that why she hadn’t mentioned her occupation? Had she purposely not mentioned it? Was this how what was happening to Taifa and Malik began, by being just a little bit slow to be honest about who you were so that you could fit in with people you thought might look down on you if they knew just how very different you were from them? The last question made her pause in buttoning her dress. “Watch yourself, girlfriend,” she told her reflection in the mirror. “Just you watch yourself.”

  THREE

  Evening had settled in while Blanche was in her room. The sun was being hurried offstage by stars high in the sky. She walked slowly across the grounds toward the terrace. It was chilly enough for her to be glad of the shawl she’d slung around her shoulders. Maine might be as pretty as parts of the South, but it was missing that one major ingredient in her definition of a perfect climate, heat. The sea chuckled and beckoned to her. She stopped to spend a few minutes with it. She hadn’t performed her ritual yet, but already she felt cleansed and calmed by the water beating out the rhythm of the planet on the rocky shore. She watched the sea and the gathering evening until her empty and complaining stomach pushed her toward the Inn.

  From the terrace, she could see people seated in the dining room. She noticed that the dozen or so tables were arranged in two very separate groups—a cluster of six tables overlooking the terrace and the sea, and the other, larger group back against the lobby-side of the room. There was a wide aisle between the two sections. She slid open the screened door and stepped into a bee’s hum of voices that died down as every head in the place turned in her direction.

  For a moment, the whole room stared at her as though she were a horse in their bathroom. They were no more shocked than she. Had it been the same in the bar and she just hadn’t noticed? No. Glenda was medium brown, but she wasn’t a guest. There’d been the man with the skinny woman. He was nearly deep brown. But they weren’t here. That leaves me, Blanche White, race representative, she laughed to herself, and was pleased to be able to find the humor in being the only guest present with any true color. She played with the fantasy of falling on one knee and belting out a chorus of “Mammy” to see if any of them fainted.

  The name card on the table where she was seated said “Harris/White.” Good. The company would be interesting no matter what the dinner turned out to be. The table was also well-situated for people-watching. She didn’t intend to let these folks have all the fun. She started right in by checking the folks two tables away, only to discover neither of them was a stranger. The woman raised her hand and stroked her hair just the way she’d done in the village. Her evening makeup was a bit more pronounced. She averted her eyes from Blanche and spoke to the man seated across from her. Blanche gave him her full attention. He was the man she’d seen tiptoeing around that closed cottage. He was only slightly darker than his companion, with not a hair out of place. He looked like a man who was accustomed to having people do as he said, not the kind of man who needed to sneak around. What a lovely couple, she thought.

  There were no other diners at the sea-side tables, although she could see name cards on all of them. There were no cards on the tables at the back, even though the jogging couple was sitting back there, as well as two women and a couple she hadn’t seen before.

  When Glenda returned to fill her water glass, Blanche asked her why name cards were on some tables but not others.

  “We only use the name cards for the Insiders who own cottages and their visiting friends. They sit on this side of the room for dinner. We switch sides for lunch. It gets too sunny on this side.” She jerked her head dismissively toward the non-card section. “Anyone can eat on the Outsider side. Except for Saturday night, it’s usually Outsiders who are staying in the Inn.”

  “Good thing I’m well connected!” Blanche’s voice was nearly drowned in sarcasm. Glenda didn’t seem to get it. Blanche wondered if Glenda had ever considered where she would be seated if she came here for dinner. Poor little snob. But maybe her attitude was more a part of the job than the girl’s own feelings. She was still young enough not to know the difference.

  Mattie smiled and waved as she headed toward Blanche.

  “Hello. I thought it might be fun to have dinner together, instead of you eating alone at the Crowleys’ table. I’m sure Hank and Carol won’t mind having dinner alone for a change.”

  Glenda hurried over and pulled out the chair across from Blanche.

  “I hope you don’t mind.” Mattie sank into the chair and flipped her napkin into her lap without waiting for Blanche to respond.

  Blanche smiled. These old Divas! They had that way of asking a question that was really a command no one even thought to disobey. Her mother was like that, and Miz Minnie and her Aunt Rose. Of course Miz Minnie was the all-time champion. Mattie reminded her of those women, except Mattie had had the good fortune of never having to do anything Mama and Miz Minnie would recognize as a day’s work. This made Mattie all the rarer.

  Glenda gave them hand-lettered menus and took their drink orders.

  Mattie looked around. “This place never changes. I like that.”

  “How long have you been coming here?”

  “Forever. Amber Cove has been my haven for many, many years. I came down here to reclaim myself.”

  “But not your family?” Blanche made the question as light as possible.

  Mattie gave her a piercing look. “You don’t miss much, do you? You’re correct, I did come here without my family. I’ve often wondered if Carlton ever regretted buying me a place here. It changed everything. Everything. The boys spent summers with my in-laws at their place on the Cape. Carlton holed up in his office. He worked as hard in summer as he did in winter, which is why he’s dead. Carlton gave me the cottage for my thirtieth birthday. So I could, quote, be with my people, unquote.” She chuckled as though this were both funny and sad.

  Glenda brought their drinks, a basket of crusty rolls, and a pie wedge of butter stamped with an entwined “AC.” The same entwined monogram was on the handles of the silverware and in gold script in the middle of the white porcelain plates.

  They both decided to skip the shrimp toast or pate appetizers, as well as the vichyssoise or curried cream of pea soup. They both had the broiled monkfish as opposed to the fettucine alfredo, or the grilled chicken breast in honey-mustard sauce.

  “Salud.” Mattie held her drink up to Blanche.

  “To the best of people,” Blanche countered.

  Mattie’s eyes lit up when Carol and Hank came in, or, rather, when she saw Hank. Mattie seemed fond of Carol, but it was Hank who put that gleam in her eye.

  “So, you’ve deserted us for new company.” Hank leaned down and kissed Mattie’s upturned cheek. She reached for his hand and squeezed it briefly. From the look on Hank’s face, Mattie’s affection for him was returned.

  “Don’t kid me! I know you’re delighted to have a private dinner with Carol!”

  “What about me? Don’t I have any choice in this?” Carol said. “Maybe I’d rather have dinner with Blanche and leave you two to blabber on about the good old days.”

  “Ignore her, my dear,” Mattie patted Hank’s arm. “It’ll only encourage her.”

  “Meow.” Carol arched an eyebrow at Mattie.

  “Hank, let me introduce you to Blanche White.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Blanche.”

  Blanche took Hank’s hand. His hands and fingers were squared off like the rest of him. His small neat ears lay close to his head. His eyes were large
and sad, but smiling now.

  “I hope you’re enjoying Amber Cove, Blanche.” Hank looked right at her but seemed distracted—like a parent with a young child in the next room. Even so, he reminded her of Stu when he smiled as though Blanche’s “yes” was the most delightful thing he’d heard all day.

  Mattie was still beaming after Hank had gone. “He’s quite wonderful, isn’t he?” He’s my godson, you know. He’s coming up for a full professorship in the History Department at MIT next term. He’ll be the first black full professor in the department.” She didn’t try to hide her pride. “His mother was my best, my dearest, dearest friend.” Mattie’s eyes went somewhere very far away for a moment. She sighed and looked around at the tables near her before she spoke again.

  “I know everyone here,” Mattie continued. “All of them have had places here since the beginning of Amber Cove.”

  Blanche noticed that “everyone” only included the people who owned cottages and sat on this side of the room.

  “Their families have been coming here for generations—like the Tattersons.” Mattie looked at the couple Blanche had been eyeing and had been eyed by earlier.

  “Martin’s great-grandfather designed this place. His grandfather was the first black man to serve in the Air Force Medical Corps. He’s lawyer to everyone here, including Amber Cove itself.” She chuckled at Blanche’s surprised look.

  “Oh, yes. Very clubby, very family. People may treat each other like dirt, but in the end, they hang together like bats in a cave.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “Depends on what it is they hang together to do or not do.”

  “You said ‘they,’ not ‘we.’ ”

  “I’m not really an Insider.” Mattie smiled at Blanche’s nod of recognition at the term. “I see you’ve been given the distinctions,” she said, then went on. “My people were genteel poor clerics. Educated, but poor. They couldn’t have bought Insider status here at a quarter of the price. Getting in because your famous white husband buys you in is good enough, but not as good as being born among the people who’ve traditionally owned cottages here, even if you’re light-skinned.”

  “Well, something must have changed over the years, girlfriend, because you are clearly the big cheese now.”

  Mattie laughed. “Nothing like celebrity to up one’s status in America, even among this set. Of course, being a fierce old bitch doesn’t hurt.” She paused and gave Blanche a curious little smile. “I don’t believe anyone has ever referred to me as ‘girlfriend’ in that way before. I quite like it. Thank you.”

  They were both smiling when Glenda brought their dinner.

  The blackened monkfish was nicely spicy. The mixed greens were stir-fried to a turn and the hot, three-bean medley a nice change from potatoes. They ate in silence for a few moments. The door to the terrace slid back to admit the brown-skinned woman who’d loud-talked Faith in the bar and her male companion. She was quiet now and Blanche gave them both a good looking over. The man was of medium height with a pleasant, open face. He wore a lightweight tan suit with a chocolate brown shirt and tan tie. His wingtips were also brown and tan. The woman was both tall and quite attractive with large, slanted eyes and a full sensuous mouth. Her figure easily handled the hot pink, skintight Lycra halter dress that just covered her behind. Her pink sandals with their five-inch heels were the exact shade of her dress, as was her lipstick, the nail polish on her fingers and toes, and the flower tucked behind her ear. A black organdy shawl with fringes that swept the floor swung from her arms. Glenda seated the couple in the Outsider section of the room.

  “Who are they?” Blanche asked Mattie.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Oh, I figured since they seemed to know Faith that you probably knew them, too.” Blanche worked to keep the question mark out of her voice.

  Mattie gave her a look that said she knew she was being pumped but didn’t mind. “They didn’t know Faith. Not in the way you mean. They just experienced her.” Mattie told Blanche about the night Faith had made nasty remarks about the woman’s clothes in a penetrating, ridiculing voice she meant the woman to hear. Mattie screwed up her face as though the incident were an unpleasant smell. “But, believe me, that’s hardly the worst thing Faith ever did. She was notorious for her delight in embarrassing people. The Carsons haven’t used their cottage since the summer Faith said those awful things about their daughter. Perhaps now that Faith’s gone they’ll give up looking for a buyer. The cottage has been in their family since it was built.” Mattie’s eyes snapped with her indignation over the situation.

  Blanche leapt right in, although she didn’t expect much: “What did she say about their daughter?”

  Mattie looked surprised for half a second, but was still in charge of herself: “Let’s just say Faith’s favorite sport was revealing other people’s secrets before as large an audience as possible. The Saturday night dance was one of her favorite forums. I think that’s why we were all determined to have tonight’s dance go on. The first in decades without her venom spewing over the floor.”

  “What I don’t understand is why ya’ll put up with her mess.” Blanche sucked her teeth. “In my neighborhood, Miss Faith would probably have gotten the cussing out of a lifetime, if not worse.”

  “If only we lived in your neighborhood! Here, we’re all afraid to raise our voices for fear of being called savages. We’re all so intent on presenting ourselves as paragons of virtue and upholders of the race, we didn’t dare tell Faith to stop acting like a bully. Faith collected secrets, you see. Everyone feared she might know about their particular fall from grace. If challenged, she might have blurted out one’s own unsayable secret. Of course, there was also the nasty pleasure of watching others squirm. None of us was prepared to give that up, I’m sure.”

  “Didn’t you say her cottage was down that end of the Inn?

  Mattie chewed and nodded. “Blue cottage, the one with the blue door. The Tattersons own yellow cottage and green cottage is the Carsons. I told you about them.”

  “Oh yeah, Faith’s other victims. Why’d she do it, I wonder.”

  “Faith was always jealous and mean-spirited, even as a child. She grew up to be a sad and insecure woman. Like many such people, she could be very cruel. But, of course, she wasn’t half as clever a snoop as she thought. No one can figure out what Al J. saw in Faith, why he stayed with her. He’s a perfectly nice man.”

  Blanche sucked her teeth again. “Women like her used to make me feel so bad, talking to me like I have a dust pan for a brain. Like I was born into this world to clean up after them and steal their possessions. Mistreatment is always worse from your own, I think.” Blanche looked at Mattie and waited.

  Surprise lifted the lines in Mattie’s face. She leaned forward slightly. Her eyes searched Blanche’s face. “You’re in service?

  “Since I was nineteen.”

  Mattie fell back in her chair. “Well I’ll be damned!” she chortled. “Does Arthur know?”

  Blanche shrugged.

  Mattie’s eyes widened. Her lips were parted slightly. Blanche thought maybe she was trying to decide which question to ask first. People Blanche normally ran with would have simply asked what someone like her was doing in a place like this. Mattie probably thought such a direct question was rude.

  Glenda stopped to see if everything was all right and to offer coffee and dessert. Mattie sent her away with the suggestion she come back later. Blanche gave her good marks for that. Ordering dessert would have been a perfect way to end their conversation.

  “It’s quite extraordinary, you know.”

  “For me to be here? Or for me to do domestic work?”

  “How do you know the Crowleys?”

  “Our kids go to school together.”

  “I see.” Her frown denied her words.

  Blanche was tempted to explain about t
he money her last North Carolina employer had paid for her silence and her decision to use that money to send her kids to private school, but she remembered Mattie’s caginess about the Carson’s daughter.

  Mattie cast out another line: “Your work must be better paid than I realized.”

  Very good, Blanche thought. She didn’t know if she herself would have known how to move on that one. She smiled a slow, sweet smile. “Let’s just say I had a windfall,” she told Mattie.

  “Touché,” Mattie laughed. “Touché.” She raised her hand to summon Glenda. “Perhaps someday you’ll tell me about it.”

  Damn! This old girl could do it to death! “Perhaps someday you’ll do the same.” she told Mattie with a smile.

  When Glenda returned they both ordered the peach ice cream.

  Blanche glanced around the room. “I swore I’d never eat in another segregated dining room but here I am. I guess that’s why Mama always said, ‘Never say never.’ ”

  “Did I miss something, Blanche? I don’t quite…”

  “This Insider/Outsider business ya’ll got going here. Don’t it remind you of something?”

  “It’s really much better for everyone this way.” Mattie’s tone of voice was very similar to the one Blanche used when she was trying to convince the children that the punishment she was handing out was good for all concerned. Mattie went on.

  “Occasionally there’s a dish on the Insiders’ menu that’s not available to Outsiders. Think how people would feel if…”