by Ginny Dye
Thomas hoped he was concealing his impatience when he answered. “Of course. I’m just curious as to what you think.”
Abby shook her head decisively. “We’ll talk about it tonight, after strawberry shortcake.”
Thomas knew there was no pressing her when she had that look in her eyes.
*****
“Care to go out on the porch?” Thomas invited.
Abby nodded her head quickly. “That sounds lovely. The world smells delightful tonight.”
Thomas bit back the reply that wanted to escape his lips. Perhaps to a Philadelphia city girl, Richmond truly did smell delightful. All he could smell was the odor of smoke and coal fires mingled with lilac and the honeysuckle climbing the fence along the property border.
Abby settled on the porch swing, smiling graciously as she accepted the tray with two cups of hot tea that May handed her. “Thank you,” she murmured. She waited until the door swung closed behind May, and then turned to Thomas. “We’re alone now. Please talk to me.”
Thomas took a deep breath, knowing the conversation could no longer be avoided. “Anthony and I had a conversation in Philadelphia,” he began. “We were talking about expanding the factory.” He paused, knowing Abby would remain silent while he formulated his thoughts. “When I expressed reservations about moving forward with the expansion, he told me I needed to decide what was important to me.”
“And have you?” Abby asked.
“I have,” Thomas admitted, but was seized with sudden anxiety. What if Abby felt differently? He would never dream of forcing her out of the life she loved.
“I would like very much to hear it,” Abby pressed.
Thomas sighed. Once he said the words, there would be no taking them back. “I’ve spent my life focused on making money,” he began. “Anthony said something that struck me quite hard. He said that he makes money so he can be with the people he loves, and he is determined that money will never become more important than that.” Thomas took a deep breath. “I’m no longer interested in expanding the factory, Abby. I believe we’ve done our part in rebuilding the South. I don’t know how much longer I have to live, but I do know I want to spend whatever time I have left, doing the things I believe are important.” He looked up and met Abby’s eyes squarely. “I want to go home.”
“Thank God.”
Thomas blinked, not sure he had heard correctly. “Excuse me?”
“Thank God,” Abby repeated. “I believe it would be a smart business move to buy the new building, and I believe we could make it profitable quickly enough to make it a viable business decision, but there is not one single particle of me that wants to do it.”
Thomas furrowed his brow. “Do you truly mean that?”
“I do,” Abby said firmly. “I’ve been feeling for a while that I’m ready to slow down and spend more time on the plantation, but knowing that I now have a granddaughter, as well as so many other people that I want to spend time with, has made that more of a reality.” She reached over and took Thomas’ hand. “I know we will continue to spend time in Richmond for a while, but I also believe we can spend more time on the plantation.”
Thomas watched her closely as he made his next statement. “And perhaps work toward finding a buyer for the factory?” he said slowly.
“Yes,” Abby agreed. “I’ve worked hard for the last twenty-five years, Thomas. I would like to think I’ve earned the right to step away from business.”
Thomas slipped an arm around his wife’s shoulder and pulled her close. “I was afraid you would be upset.”
“Far from it,” Abby assured him. “But I understand the fear. I was afraid you would be disappointed when you discovered I wasn’t interested in expansion.”
“Far from it,” Thomas chuckled.
They sat in silence for a long while, letting the peace of the night wrap around them. The sun slipped low on the horizon, and then dipped beneath it, unleashing a canopy of stars that still managed to glimmer through the hazy air.
“We need to come up with a plan,” Abby said after a long while.
“I agree,” Thomas replied. His thoughts were spinning again. Deciding to step away, and actually doing it, were two different things. He didn’t want to make any decisions that would put the factory at risk. Too many families were dependent upon the income. He and Abby could live off the money they had made all their lives, but families would be destroyed if they lost jobs. “Have you ever sold one of your factories?”
“No, but we’re going to get a lot of experience,” Abby said cheerfully. “We’re smart enough to figure out the right ways to do it, and I can trust God that the right buyers are waiting who will follow in our footsteps.”
Thomas sucked in his breath. “Do you really believe that?” He wished he could be so certain.
“I have to,” Abby declared. “I’ve not given my life to create businesses that treat employees with respect and dignity, only to see some greedy person steal that away. I’m not worried about Philadelphia,” she mused. “Jeremy is there. We can sell him the factories if he and Marietta want them, allowing them to pay us out of the profits. He can hire and train a new manager for Moyamensing in time. It will create a steady income for us, and it will give him a foothold he would not have otherwise. I trust him implicitly.”
“As do I,” Thomas agreed. “The Philadelphia factories could not possibly be in better hands. And yet, what if he and Marietta feel it is no longer safe for the twins? They may decide to move farther north.”
Abby shrugged. “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it,” she said casually. “Right now, we are making decisions we believe are right for us. None of us has the ability to predict the future. We’ll just have to see what happens.” She sipped from her tea as they swung gently back and forth. “I’m not sure what to do about Richmond, though,” she admitted. “Pierre is learning to be a good manager, but I don’t believe I trust him with the factory, or with all our employees,” she said, gauging his reaction.
Thomas agreed. He had been watching their new manager closely. He liked Pierre, and he wanted to believe he was a good man, but he suspected the manager position was more than he could actually handle. Putting the entire factory in his hands was not something Thomas would even consider. “What do you think about Willard?”
Abby drew back with surprise. “Willard? He’s been at the factory for only a year. And he has no business experience.”
“Neither did you when you took over for your late husband,” Thomas reminded her. He had been watching Willard Miller for the last several months. He and his wife, Grace, had become regular guests for dinner since Harold had done the interview with them for Glimmers of Change.
“That’s true,” Abby said. “But surely Willard is not ready for such a huge responsibility.”
“Not now,” Thomas agreed, “but I believe he could be. He’s quite intelligent. He’s pouring through the books I gave him.”
Abby cocked her head. “The books you gave him?”
Thomas nodded. “Willard wants to be a businessman. He asked several months ago if I would share some books with him, so I sent him home with a stack.” He took a breath. “I’ve been meeting with him on a weekly basis to mentor him. He asks quite keen questions, and he’s very quick to pick up on things. He’s even made some suggestions I’ve implemented in the last week while you were gone.”
“You didn’t tell me!” Abby exclaimed. “What a wonderful thing to do.”
Thomas smiled. “He’s a fine young man.”
“So, you’ve been training him for this all along?” Abby asked, a hint of disappointment in her eyes.
Thomas understood immediately that she thought he had been hiding his plans from her. “Absolutely not,” he said. “Until last week, I had every intention of expanding the factory and staying here in town to run everything. I was simply helping Willard because I’ve grown so fond of him and Grace.” He took Abby’s hand. “I would never do anything behind your back,
my dear. I have far too much respect for you.”
Abby sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Thomas.”
Another long silence enveloped them.
“You really believe Willard could take over the factory?” Abby finally asked.
“Perhaps it’s wishful thinking,” Thomas admitted, “but I believe he could.” Thomas considered his next words carefully. “We could find many people with more business experience, but I doubt we could find anyone who would feel the way we do about running the factory. I’ve watched him with the other employees. He makes friends easily, and he treats everyone the same. It doesn’t matter if they are black or white. He’s eager to learn from everyone, and takes on jobs no one has given him to do. When I ask him why, he says he wants to learn everything in case we need his help in the future.”
“What about Pierre?”
Thomas was struggling with that aspect of the decision. “I like Pierre, and I think he could be a good manager, but I don’t believe I would ever feel comfortable leaving the factory in his hands,” he admitted. “I can’t imagine selling it to him one day. He’s fair to everyone who works there, but I sense an edge to him around the black workers, especially if he doesn’t think I’m watching.” He shook his head. “There’s something about him that I can’t quite put my finger on. I just know I’m not comfortable with it.”
Abby nodded. “I’ve felt the same thing,” she admitted. “I don’t spend as much time on the factory floor as you do, but I can sense the tension among a lot of our workers when he’s around. That tension was never there when Jeremy was the manager.” She frowned. “Have you talked to Marcus about it?”
Thomas nodded. Marcus was from the Black Quarter. He was a friend to the entire family, but he and Jeremy were especially close, and had worked closely together at the factory. “He hasn’t said a whole lot, but he has told me we should be careful.”
Abby looked at him sharply. “That’s unusual for Marcus. He’s usually very direct.”
“I know,” Thomas agreed. He had thought perhaps he was overreacting, but Abby’s response made him realize he had been right to be concerned. “I’ll talk to Marcus about it again in the morning.”
Abby nodded and went back to the earlier part of their conversation. “Can we go out to the plantation soon?”
Thomas smiled. “I would like that. I probably need a few days here to take care of some things, but why don’t I have Spencer take you out tomorrow?”
“I can’t do that,” Abby protested. “I just returned from the trip with Carrie. It wouldn’t be fair to you. We’ll do what needs to be done together, and then we’ll go out.”
Thomas waved his hand in the air. “Nonsense. I won’t be far behind you. It would give me great pleasure if you would go.”
Abby gazed at him. “I probably shouldn’t agree, but I’m going to.” Her eyes brightened with happiness. “I want you to spend more time with Frances,” she said eagerly. “She’s a very special little girl.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Thomas agreed. “I want to ride with her all over the plantation like I did with Carrie when she was that age. Of course,” he chuckled, “Carrie knew the plantation better than I did by that point. She only let me think I was showing her new things.”
*****
Eddie opened the door of his home when he heard the quiet tap he was expecting. He remained silent as Marcus walked in, but his eyes widened when he saw that Marcus was not alone. “Who’s this?” he asked sharply.
“Willard Miller,” Marcus replied. “He’s a good man. We want him here tonight.”
Eddie wanted to argue, but he didn’t have any facts to argue with. He’d never seen the white man standing in front of him. Willard was young, but he had the sharp look that said he had seen battle, and probably more pain than a man deserved to have. Eddie pushed down his misgivings. “Hello, Willard.”
“Thank you for letting me be here, Eddie,” Willard replied.
Eddie, who had learned to be cautious, merely nodded, careful to keep his face a mask. He trusted Marcus, but anyone could be fooled. His three years in Castle Thunder Prison had taught him that.
“Is Carl joining us?” Marcus asked.
Eddie nodded. “He’ll be home in a few minutes. He was finishing up at the restaurant. Opal has a meeting at the church tonight.” They had planned their meeting for this evening for that very reason. His wife was strong, but there was no reason to alarm her with suspicions. He knew their suspicions were justified, but it was too early to talk about them with anyone else yet.
“And Clark?”
“My brother is on his way home,” Eddie replied. “Opal made a strawberry pie this morning before she left for the restaurant. You two want some?”
“Of course,” Marcus said eagerly. He turned to Willard. “Opal is the best cook in Richmond.”
Willard nodded. “That’s what the Cromwells tell me.”
Eddie eyed him sharply. “You friends with the Cromwells?”
Willard returned his gaze with unflinching eyes. “I’d like to think I am,” he said. “I’ve been at the factory for a while, but last year I did an interview with Harold Justin for the book he and Matthew wrote.”
“Glimmers of Change?” Eddie broke in to ask.
“That’s the one,” Willard answered. “Me and my wife, Grace, got along fine with Harold, so he took us back to the Cromwells for dinner that night. We have dinner there about once a week or so.”
Eddie continued to gaze at him. He looked like he was telling the truth, and since Marcus worked at the factory, he would know if the man was lying.
“His wife, Grace, is at the meeting with Opal at the church,” Marcus offered.
Eddie stared at him. “At the church? But…” There were certainly white people who came around the Black Quarter, but none of them went to the church meetings.
“Grace is black,” Marcus said.
Eddie swung his eyes back to Willard.
“Grace is the finest woman I know,” Willard said quietly. “I grew up in Alabama. I served in the army, but ended up the guest of Rock Island Prison in Illinois for most of the war.”
Eddie understood the shadows in Willard’s eyes. “Go on,” he said.
“When the war was over, I was told to walk back home to Alabama. I was doing that, but got real sick. Grace and her family found me on the road. They took me in and saved my life.” He smiled. “Grace and I fell in love. Now we’re married.”
Eddie gazed at him. “You picked an interesting place to live,” he said bluntly. “Folks don’t take too much to mixed-race marriages around here.”
“Nope,” Willard agreed, “but as far as I can tell, there is nowhere in the country that does. When I got a job at Cromwell Factory, we decided to take our chances.”
“How’d you get the job?” Eddie asked. He was relaxing, but you couldn’t know too much about a man if you were supposed to trust him with information that could end up with you dead.
Willard smiled. “I met Matthew Justin during my travels. He helped me get the job.”
Eddie relaxed the rest of the way. Matthew Justin was one of the best judges of character he had ever met. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said warmly.
“You may not be when I tell you what I have to say,” Willard said darkly.
Marcus held up a hand. “We’re waiting on Carl and Clark. I say we have some of that strawberry pie.”
Eddie was worried by the look he had seen glinting in Willard’s eyes, but he agreed with Marcus’ decision to wait on his brother and son. “I’ll dish it up,” he offered. Knowing Clark and Carl would want some, he filled four plates with the delicious pie.
Willard moaned when he took his first bite. “This is wonderful,” he said. He looked at Eddie with narrowed eyes. “How do you stay so skinny with a wife who can cook like this?”
Eddie chuckled. “It don’t matter how much I eat,” he said ruefully. “Opal has been trying to put weight
on me since we got married. I am her constant disappointment. She says I’m very bad advertising for her restaurant.”
Carl breezed in through the back just as Eddie finished speaking. “Not bad enough to keep the place from being packed, Daddy, so I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“I don’t,” Eddie agreed. “As long as she tries to fatten me up, I’ll always have plenty of food. After three years in Castle Thunder, I don’t ever want to be hungry again.”
Willard eyed him with interest. “I’ve heard real bad things about that prison.”
“You know of one that anybody says good things about?” Eddie retorted.
“Can’t say as I do.”
Eddie introduced Willard to his son. “My boy, Carl, is seventeen.” He understood the reservation that sprang into Willard’s eyes. “He’s been working with us for the last two years,” he assured him. “You ain’t got nothing to worry about.”
Willard nodded slowly, but his eyes remained cautious.
Carl took a bite of pie and smiled. “I watched my Daddy taken off to prison when I was just a kid. It was the same day my mama died in an explosion at the armory during the war. I know the risks, but I ain’t going to sit back and do nothing. My daddy taught me to be real careful.”
Eddie was proud of the humble confidence in his son’s eyes. Carl did, indeed, know the risks of the work they did.
The front door opened again.
“Hello, Clark,” Marcus called. “This last plate of pie is yours, but I’m on my last bite. If you don’t grab it fast, I’m going to claim it.”
Clark snatched his plate and dug in. Then he saw Willard sitting across the room. His eyes shuttered as he looked at Eddie.
“It’s all right,” Eddie said. “Marcus brought him. Willard Miller works at the factory. He’s friends with the Cromwells and Matthew Justin.”
“You sure about that?” Clark asked suspiciously.
“I’m sure,” Eddie said. “He’s got news for us.”
“What kind of news?” Clark asked as he shoved another forkful of pie into his mouth.
