“Let’s see what we have here,” he said, removing one of the thick slices of ham and unwrapping it on a paper plate. “Well, ain’t this pretty,” he said, studying the ham. “What do you call it?”
“Stuffed ham,” I said. “It’s a specialty in Baltimore where I come from.” Maybe I could win him over. He was a very different man tonight than the one who’d completely ignored me at church the day he went on and on to Henry about how he’d hurt his daughter. This evening, he was ingratiating, his eyes on mine, his smile unrelenting. Maybe I stood a chance with him. I’d spent my whole life being liked. I’d even been thought of as popular in high school and nursing school. Why did I allow myself to be so intimidated here? “It’s fun to make,” I added.
He spooned a couple of the small potatoes onto my plate. “Hank got himself a real looker, didn’t he?” he said. “You look like you could be on stage or in the movies,” he added. “Do you know who Dante Rossetti is?”
I shook my head. “No idea.” I poured myself a glass of lemonade from the pitcher on the table.
“He’s an English artist famous for his sensual paintings of beautiful women with exceptionally thick, long hair,” he said, cutting a corner from his ham and lifting it to his mouth. “I’d wager that’s how your hair looks when you let it down.”
I squirmed ever so slightly in my seat, forgetting my idea about winning him over. He was too slick. “Shall we eat our supper?” I asked. I looked across the room to see Henry dining with the mayor and his wife. I’d completely lost track of Ruth and Lucy.
“Have I made you uncomfortable, Mrs. Kraft?”
“Not at all.” I smiled.
“Please accept my apology if I have.” He bowed his head slightly. “That wasn’t my intention. In Baltimore, maybe gentlemen aren’t as free with their compliments.”
“I’ve never been compared to a painting before,” I said awkwardly.
“Dante Rossetti,” he repeated. “You must give him a gander sometime.” He chewed a bite of ham, his gaze riveted on my face, and I feigned cutting my potato with great interest. “A booming town, Baltimore,” he said. “Hickory must seem like a sleepy little backwater to you.”
“Not at all,” I said. “It’s lovely.”
He sipped his drink. “Tell me about your people,” he said.
“My … family?”
“Yes. Your kin. Are they all in Baltimore?”
“I’m afraid I lost both my parents,” I said. “And I was an only child.” I wouldn’t let myself think about the rest of my “kin”—Mimi and Pop and Vincent.
“Oh, now that breaks my heart to hear,” he said. “The thought of my little girl growing up without a daddy or mama…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry you had to come up that way.”
“Thank you,” I said. “My father passed away when I was very young, but I lost my mother just recently. So I actually grew up with a lot of love and support.” I didn’t want him to see me as some pathetic little orphan.
“Good, that’s good.” He nodded, popping another bite of ham in his mouth. “Now how exactly did you meet our lucky Hank?” he asked, once he’d swallowed. “Where was it that you swept him off his feet?”
Oh, I didn’t like this man! I had to find a way to take control of the conversation, sooner rather than later. He was fishing for something and I had no idea what.
“Washington, D.C.,” I said.
“And when was that?”
I nibbled a piece of ham. “Quite a while ago,” I said evasively.
“Well, well.” He sat back from the table and observed me with a one-sided smile. “Who would have guessed that Hank Kraft had a little something like you on the side all this time.”
Stunned, I set down my fork, bristling. “I think you have a mistaken idea of my relationship with my husband,” I said. “We’ve been friends for a long time, and sometimes friendship can turn into something deeper. I believe that’s all you need to know.”
He looked surprised that I’d actually defended myself. I was finished playing his game. I was tempted to get up and march away from the table, but that was the coward’s way out. Instead, I smiled prettily at him. “So,” I said, “I think you’ve gotten in your hundred dollars’ worth of insults,” I said. “Now why don’t you tell me a little about your work?” I asked. “It must be fascinating.”
Slowly, I saw a look of respect replace the surprise on his face. “Very well,” he said. “Where shall I begin?”
33
Before we left for church the following morning, Lucy and I piled the leftovers from our box supper meals into a hamper for Adora and her family. We planned to drop the food off at their house on our way. I was so glad this was to be my last church service. I always found the service lacking compared to what I was used to, and I ended up daydreaming about Vincent before I could stop myself, wondering as I always did how he’d reacted to my letter. He must truly hate me now.
Henry drove us to the Ridgeview neighborhood, which now felt familiar to me, although I would never let him or my in-laws know I’d been there before. What would they think of me taking the bus to “Colored Town,” walking up the dirt road to Reverend Sam’s house, mine the only white face for miles around? I smiled to myself at the thought. Reverend Sam was my sweet secret.
For the first time, Ruth insisted I sit in the Cadillac’s front seat with Henry.
“In your condition,” she’d said, “you really should get the roomier seat.”
Now that my “condition” was being openly discussed in the house, I guessed I was going to be treated with deference.
We’d had a bit of a spat that morning, Henry and I. While I was fixing my hair at the dressing table, I told him about the licensing exam. When I explained that it would be given over three days in Winston-Salem, he simply stared at me in the mirror, his hands frozen on the tie he was knotting at his neck. I was not as apprehensive as I’d expected to be as I waited for his response. There was nothing he could say that would keep me from that exam. I still had a tiny bit of my own money left from my account in Baltimore. It would be enough for the trip, but just barely.
“You can’t do it,” he said, his hands working once again on the knot. “I thought we’d settled that already.”
“It’s so important to me, Henry,” I said, tucking a stray lock of my hair behind my ear. “I’ve worked hard for this.”
“No,” he said simply. “No further discussion needed.”
Yes, I thought to myself. Further discussion is definitely needed. But I knew it would have to wait.
Since it was a Sunday, downtown Ridgeview was quiet. Only the churches seemed alive with people. It was fairly warm for February, and the churchgoers crowded the sidewalks dressed in Sunday finery.
Henry turned onto the long dirt road that probably still bore my footprints from my second visit to Reverend Sam. We passed the tiny crumbling houses on either side of us until we reached the house that had stood out to me the first time I was in Ridgeview—the small yellow house with white trim and new-looking shingles on the roof. The house that looked so well cared for. Henry stopped the car in front of it, and I guessed this was where Adora lived.