Nellie gave them chores, forbidding the house staff to do anything for them but cook. Straight As were expected, and they were kept busy with extracurricular activities, as if it were possible to skip over the part where they realized their hierarchal position in the world. Nellie raised her granddaughters sensibly—fairy tales weren’t real, and neither was Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy.
Elise mimicked her voice. “You may be fortunate, but you’re still Black.” Now Elise revered her as a saint for stepping in the way she did. While limiting, her rigidity was her way of loving, of protecting the girls from any confusion or wishful thinking about their classification in the world. She did her best to save their mother.
Jasper sounded surprised. “Sounds like my grandma.”
“Yeah, Kitty was a nice break.”
Nellie had reared them with good manners and sensibilities, but Kitty sprinkled their lives with magic. She let them eat ice cream for dinner, baked them elaborate, tiered cakes for their birthdays, and bought them too many presents to count. Now Elise mimicked Kitty. “The world could use more little spoiled Negro girls.”
“She said ‘Negro’?”
“She didn’t mean anything by it; it’s just the word she was used to using.”
“I guess she did live through a lot of history.”
“Existed right in the center of it.” Elise kicked a rock. “Until cancer took her too.”
“Too?”
“My mom’s mom died of cancer when I was twelve.”
Jasper paused and then, “I’m sorry to bring up bad memories.”
She opened Kitty’s front door, where his photograph sat against the wall.
“That’s what nine thousand dollars gets me? A spot on the floor?”
“You left your nine thousand dollars here.”
She gave him a look. “Tell me about the photo, Jasper.”
“Nathan and Kitty.” He showed her a black-and-white photograph on his phone of a couple kissing in a parking lot. He gestured for her to swipe. “My grandfather took these, and in exchange for them, Nathan offered my grandfather a job taking photographs of Telescope stars that he would then sell to the papers. When he discovered Kitty was Black, he had to decide whether to tell Nathan or not.”
He paused as if he’d been practicing for her reaction. She ignored his cliff-hanger and kept scrolling as directed. All the photos were shot in the long-lens style, like the ones inside the dated envelopes Kitty left, but these were ones she’d never seen before.
One was of a very pregnant Kitty, being pushed in a wheelchair around the neighborhood by her grandma Nellie. The two shot through a window in Kitty’s old house showed her cooing over an infant. Finally, there was one of Nellie and a baby, wrapped in a blanket, leaving Kitty’s with a tall Black man; Elise recognized him as her grandma Nellie’s estranged husband. Her mother hadn’t seen him since she was in the second grade.
Elise pretended to be unimpressed. “What do these prove?” The photos were in black and white, so Kitty’s true color was invisible, as it was in real life, and the baby was mostly covered by cotton. Kitty could have been giving her child up to an adoption agency.
“In isolation, nothing. However”—he pointed to the ground—“this color photograph is the other half of a photo I have that shows your mother at age two or three with Kitty. It was the photograph my grandfather showed to Nathan as proof that your mother was his child. Nathan cut it in half, not knowing my grandfather had a second copy.” Elise’s pulse thudded in her ears and chest, panicked by this complication. “My book is about my grandfather, but it’s about you and your family too. He kept copies of everything.”
“Pictures never tell the whole story.”
“My grandfather’s do. He followed Kitty all the time and saw it all with his own eyes, took photographs of every moment. He kept her secret for four years, knowing what telling could mean for her life. But then he had to consider what it would mean for him if Nathan found out he knew and didn’t tell him. He had to think of his family and his livelihood.”
“And what about me and mine? I can’t let you tell this story. I’ll understand if you want to pull out of Vogue.”
“Elise, you’ve misunderstood. This isn’t just Kitty’s story. It’s my grandfather’s too. I have a legal right to it. My grandfather owned his photographs, and I own his estate.”
“All your pictures show is my grandma Nellie bringing her baby, my mother, to meet her best friend. That’s all.”
“You know I can disprove that. I’m offering you the chance to tell Kitty’s side of it. If not, it’ll be told through my grandfather’s lens, which—I’ll be honest—doesn’t paint the most favorable picture.”
“And why is that? Because he never got his chance with her?”
“He wasn’t ever convinced Kitty was sorry for what she’d done.”
“Sorry for what? She didn’t have a choice.”
“We always have a choice; we only say we don’t to soothe our conscience from what we’re capable of.”
“You don’t understand what she did. What it means. She didn’t purposely hurt people.”
“You’ve never considered how Kitty’s decision hurt you? How it hurt your mother?”
“It’s all I’ve been able to think about. She left everything for me to find after she died.”
Jasper’s eyes crossed and skittered around. “Wait—you just found out? Why won’t you talk about it?”
“Have you ever stopped to consider that perhaps Kitty doesn’t want her story told?”
“Then why would she leave it to you like she did?”
“She wanted us to know our history.”
“Then you owe it to her to tell her truth.”
“It’s still the truth if no one knows.”
He tucked the photograph under his arm. “Except in my truth, it looks like she took the easy way out by passing.”
She choked on his simple but common opinion, hacking as though she was going to regurgitate a hair ball. Alarmed, Jasper hit the center of her back with his palm. “Bitter pill?”
She pushed his arm as he went to do it again.
“You know this is what your grandmother wanted.”
“What? To have her story distorted? To be judged by people who don’t know what she went through? She hurt so much, and she triumphed anyway. I can’t let you destroy her legacy.”
“Then help me tell her story.” He moved to the door. “I’ll see you Thursday.”
“Wait.”
He looked back.
“Who else knows about this?”
“My family.”
“Not your publisher?”
“I wanted to talk to you first.”
“So, you did want my permission.”
“No, I want your help. Your support.”
Elise felt even more conflicted. Why had Kitty kept this secret for so long? It couldn’t just be because she was really Black. Even twenty years ago, Kitty’s story might have been celebrated. In the fifties, the sixties, and even the seventies, Elise understood her choices, but after leaving the business, there was no life-or-death reason for Kitty to continue the fa?ade. Unless there was.
CHAPTER 41
Elise
Wednesday early morning, November 1, 2017
Sarah was eating alone at the kitchen island, still in her costume. Though it was after three, she was unruffled; even her lipstick had crisp lines and was still a rich burgundy. She reminded Elise of Kitty then, even though they didn’t really look alike. They had the same oval face and slightly-larger-than-normal ears, but there was no glaring marker of their relation. Vanity was their genetic link.
She didn’t look up as Elise sat down. Sarah never ate while hosting, preferring to reminisce about the night over a meal. She normally would have asked Elise if she was hungry, inviting her to recap the night, but she was still angry. Elise could see her cheek twitching between bites of pulled chicken and hummus from her saucer-sized plate.
“You weren’t going to ever tell us, were you?”
Sarah remained silent so long Elise repeated herself.
“Do your sisters know?” Sarah said.
Elise shook her head.
“She put it on all those recordings she left?”
Elise hesitated; she didn’t trust her mother to know all the details just yet. “Something like that.”
“She would drop this bombshell and leave the questions for me to answer.”