Finally, Mr. Henry put his hand up in the air. “Please, ladies, one at a time. I’m not going anywhere.”
Doll pointed out toward the porch. “Like flies on flypaper whenever Mr. Henry comes by. Got some mighty big flies out there, too.” Doll chuckled. “Now come on. I’m supposed to take you over to Mrs. Friedrichs’s house so you can play with her girl.”
As they started down the sidewalk, Ibby asked, “How far is the Friedrichses’ house?”
“Just up the block,” Doll said, walking slowly, as if she were in no hurry to get there.
“You been working for my grandma a long time?” Ibby asked as they strolled along.
“Started coming by to do the ironing when I was about your age. Had to quit school. Mama said I didn’t need no more schooling anyway. Said all I needed was right there in that house.” Doll shook her head.
Ibby sensed regret in her voice.
“How long has Queenie been with Fannie?” Ibby asked.
Doll stopped and picked a flower from an azalea bush, studied it, then tossed it over the fence of the house they were standing in front of. “Long time, baby. She came with the house.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know, like the furniture, the rugs, the silver. It all came with the house.”
“And how long ago was that?” Ibby asked.
“The way Mama tells it, an old widow lady by the name of Miss Althea lived in that house before Miss Fannie. Miss Althea lost her husband when she was young. Never had any children. So when she died, the house went up for sale, lock, stock, and barrel. Mr. Norwood bought it for Miss Fannie right after they married. That first day when Miss Fannie and Mr. Norwood moved in, with nothing more than one little suitcase apiece, my mama was standing in the dining room like she did every morning. Mama say she remembers that day as if it were yesterday.”
The new owners of the house had just arrived. Queenie could hear the man talking in the hall as she stood nervously beside the dining room chair where she had waited for instructions from Miss Althea every day for the past fifteen years. Queenie brushed off her uniform and straightened her starched cap as she peered into the hall, trying to get a glimpse of the young couple. Gal can’t be no more than eighteen, Queenie thought.
The woman dropped her suitcase onto the ground. “We’re living here, in this old house?”
“Don’t you like it, Fannie darling?” her husband asked as he took off his hat and fingered it nervously.
“Norwood, it’s just that . . . it’s so big!” she cried. “Aren’t we in a depression? How can we afford it?”
“Sweetie, you don’t need to worry about that,” he said. “I told you when I married you that I’d take good care of you.”
Queenie didn’t quite know what to make of the couple. The young woman was all dolled up, wearing a tight-fitting skirt and a silk blouse that barely hid her ample bosom.
“You’ll get used to it, sugar,” Norwood said as he started up the stairs. “Now come on. Let’s check out the bedroom.” He gave Fannie a quick wink.
Fannie stood in the hall as if trying to decide what to do. Instead of following Norwood, she went into the front parlor and looked around. She tugged on the red velvet curtains, ran her fingers along the white marble fireplace, rubbed the fabric on the settee, then turned and walked into the dining room and began tracing the lines of the dining room table with her fingertips.
“How do, ma’am?” Queenie said when Fannie got to the end of the table, where she was standing.
Fannie jumped back. “Who are you?”
Queenie stood calmly, trying to hide her apprehension despite the tiny specks of sweat that had formed on her forehead. It was clear this young woman was nothing like old Miss Althea, a very proper lady full of manners and grace. This new woman was so rough around the edges that Queenie thought it might be in her best interest to find another position. On the other hand, did she really want to go to all that trouble when she already knew the house, the neighborhood, and the weekly routine? She had to make a decision, and she had to make it quickly.
“Didn’t you hear what I said? Get out!” Fannie ordered.
It took Queenie less than a second to figure out that this woman had never had a maid before. She was going to be a challenge, for sure. Queenie drew in a breath.
“I’m the maid, ma’am. My name’s Saphronia Trout. I comes with the house,” Queenie said, trying to sound as if she belonged.