Brooke found herself momentarily at a loss for words. Had she told Louette she wanted to contact Varina—and her niece? Had Josephine Warrick asked Louette to reach out to the two women?
“Um,” she said, stalling. “I didn’t know Louette was related to your great-aunt.”
Felicia gave a wave of her jangling wrist. “Everybody who ever lived at Oyster Bluff is somehow related to everybody else. Except Shug, of course, and he married into the family.”
“Right.” Brooke took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. You really did take me by surprise. I spoke to Josephine last week about trying to track you and your aunt down. In fact, that was my plan for today. And now you’ve showed up.”
“Josephine wasn’t very nice to us last time, was she?” Varina said, looking from Felicia to Brooke. Her skin was surprisingly smooth for a woman in her nineties, Brooke thought. Varina Shaddix seemed swallowed up in the wooden office chair. She wore a neatly pressed pink floral cotton dress, loosely belted at the waist, of a style Brooke hadn’t seen since her own grandmother was alive, with pin tucks on the button-front bodice. Varina had undoubtedly made the dress herself. A large white patent-leather pocketbook dangled from her bony wrist. Her rubber-soled, white lace-up shoes were spotless, and her snowy white hair was parted down the middle, braided in a series of cornrows, and fastened with pink plastic barrettes. A tiny silver cross nested in the hollow of her throat, and a pearl brooch was pinned to the collar of her dress.
“Josephine was Josephine,” Felicia said, shrugging. “She’s only nice when she wants something from you, Auntie Vee.” Now she turned again to Brooke. “So what is it she wants this time, and why now?”
“She’s been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer,” Brooke said. “And she wants to make amends with her oldest friends and their heirs. She’s hired me to try to make that happen.”
“Make things right how?”
Brooke sighed. “Nothing is in writing yet, but as you know, Josephine has no living heirs. She wants to leave Talisa, and Shellhaven, to her friends and their heirs. And that includes your great-aunt.”
“What’s that?” Varina leaned in.
“Josephine is dying,” Felicia said loudly. She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “Serves her right, for all the things she and her family did to all of us. Now she wants to make things right by you, Auntie Vee.”
Varina blinked rapidly. “Is that right?” she asked, her voice quavering, eyes welling up with tears. “Josephine is dying?”
14
October 1941
Just as fast as Varina finished washing a load of plates and glasses in the big kitchen at Shellhaven, one of the waiters who’d been brought in special for the party from Atlanta toted in a tray with another load of dirty dishes. She had been standing at the big cast-iron sink for three hours with her arms plunged up to her elbows in soapy water, and still it seemed the dishes kept coming.
The back door was propped open with a big electric fan, but it barely made a dent in the heat of the kitchen. It might be October in the rest of the world, but summer lingered on in this part of the Georgia coast. Sweat dripped down her face and her back. Her calves ached.
Whenever the swinging door from the butler’s pantry opened, she could hear the strains of music coming from the ballroom. At one point in the evening, she’d been allowed to put on a frilly white apron and take a tray of sandwiches and drinks out to the men in the orchestra while they took a break from playing, but other than that, she’d been cooped up right here in this kitchen.
The ballroom was so crowded she hadn’t even seen her friends, but that was just as well, considering how ugly she looked.
She had a brand-new dress store-bought, special for the party, that Josephine had given her. It was her first grown-up dress, a light pinky-orange color with beautiful embroidery and no baby-looking puffy sleeves or silly bows or sashes like her mama used to make her wear. She had almost-new shoes too, which Ruth had brought her, all the way from Boston.
They were pink. Pink shoes! With sassy ankle straps that fastened with rhinestone buckles. Rhinestones! And a little heel, and they were as far from her scuffed-up hand-me-down brown leather brogans as a pair of shoes could be. They looked just like the shoes in the fashion magazines Millie brought her every time she came to the island, and they were almost too perfect to wear.
The biggest mirror they had at home at Oyster Bluff was the one on the bureau in Daddy’s room. She’d snuck in there, before leaving for the party, and tilted the mirror just the right way so she could admire how the shoes looked.
Everybody said she was small for her age. She had light skin and good hair, which her auntie said came from her mama’s people, who were from away and part Indian. Her brothers called her Skinnystick, and her daddy was always saying she needed “some meat on her bones,” because she was not built like the rest of the Shaddixes. Just this year, her bosoms had started to come in, and Auntie gave her a brassiere, which she’d bought from the Sears Roebuck store in Jacksonville, and which was Varina’s most treasured possession, if you didn’t count her white leatherette Bible.
Looking in the mirror at herself, Varina thought she looked real fine. She had no stockings, but she’d used some lotion Ruth had given her on her legs, and they looked smooth and silky, like the models in the fashion magazines.
She wrapped up the new shoes in a flour sack and carried them on the walk to Shellhaven. After she got to the house, she used the flour sack to wipe her feet off, then put the shoes on and reported to work.
Mrs. Dorris, the white boss lady, took one look at Varina and pitched a fit.
“Girl, what do you think you are doing sashaying in here in that fancy dress and silly shoes? You ain’t getting paid to look pretty, and you sure can’t work like that.”
Varina’s face fell. “I can wear an apron so it won’t get all messed up.”
“No, ma’am,” Mrs. Dorris said. She rummaged around in the broom closet until she found one of her own faded cotton housedresses hanging from a nail and tossed it to Varina. “Go put this on, and be quick about it.” A moment later, she managed a rare smile. “But first, go find Miss Josephine and her friends so they can see how nice you look. And then you get your tail back in here and start washing those dishes.”
Varina had run up the back stairway and managed to catch Josephine just as she and Ruth were walking out of Josephine’s bedroom heading toward the guest bedroom where Millie was staying for the week of the engagement party.
“Look here, Jo,” Ruth had said, when she caught sight of Varina. “It’s a fairy princess!”
“Oh, Varina!” Josephine had exclaimed. “Turn around. Let me see!”
The soles of the shoes were slippery, so Varina did a slow pirouette, her arms poked stiffly out from her sides.
“You look so pretty,” Ruth said, touching the sleeve of the silk dress. “Jo, this color is perfect for her. And what a cute figure you have too.” She caught Varina’s hand in hers. “Come on, let’s show Millie how beautiful you look for her party.”
Varina glanced at the grandfather clock in the hallway. “I have to get back downstairs. Mrs. Dorris needs me.”
“If Dorris fusses, you just tell her I needed you upstairs for a few minutes,” Josephine said.
Josephine rapped lightly on Millie’s door. “Come on out, bride-to-be,” she called gaily. “We have a surprise for you.”
Millie opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Her blond hair was tied up in soft rag curlers, and she still wore a bathrobe. There were dark circles under her eyes, but when she caught sight of Varina, her face lit up with a smile.
“Who is this gorgeous creature?” Millie asked.
“It’s me,” Varina said, suddenly shy.