Daughters (8 page)

“So how did it go, dear?” Claire asked Jonathan when he returned from Chicago.

“It didn’t.” He walked past his wife, poured himself a Scotch, and sank down in his favorite chair in the living room.

Claire followed him. Marie wasn’t far behind. “What do you mean?”

“There wasn’t any roundtable discussion. Any legitimate one anyway.”

Marie and Claire both gave him confused looks.

“Join me in a drink, ladies, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Claire poured the drinks while Jonathan began the story. “It was all a sham. Orchestrated by none other than the illustrious Mr. Richard Marchetti, no doubt.”

Jonathan’s retort caught Marie completely off guard. “What?!” she exclaimed.

“Don’t get too upset about it, Marie. I’m not.”

“Tell us what happened, Jon,” Claire said.

“I suspected something was not on the up-and-up the night before when five of us had dinner together, and we started talking about how each of us had been contacted. Things didn’t add up.”

Marie strained to listen to what he was saying, but she was having a hard time getting past the Richard factor.

“It started out okay. There was someone there taking notes, so it seemed legitimate and everything. We talked about all the things I figured we would, and the discussion, while lively, was conciliatory...in the beginning. But when the moderator got to civil rights, he started firing questions directly at me—the only colored man on the panel I might add—like I was responsible for all the civil unrest in the country.”

Claire’s face turned red. “What did the other panel members do?”

“They were all dumbfounded, but they saw I was handling things on my own, and so they let it continue.”

“That’s just not…”

“Let me continue. It gets worse. Without any provocation, this short, rather stout white man in an ill-fitting suit barges through the door and looks at us like a cougar scoping out a herd of gazelles, and then points at me and says, ‘Why are you listening to this nigger?’”

Both women gasped.

“He went on to say I was nothing but a two-bit horse breeder trying to fit into society and that I’d cheated more people than he could count.”

“What?” Marie called out.

“Then what did the others do, Jon?”

“At first I think they were all so surprised by this man’s outburst, they just sat frozen in their chairs…except for the moderator, that is. He seemed to be enjoying it all. Then that little piece of shit—I’m sorry, ladies—the little fat man went on to say I…okay, I’m not going to use the exact language he used because it’s vulgar. He went on to say I caused a white woman to become pregnant, and I now have a secret illegitimate half-breed daughter.”

“I don’t believe this.” Marie hoped the infuriation revealed on Claire’s face wasn’t being directed at her.

“Calm down, Claire. Don’t let it get to you. It’s not worth it.”

“If Richard had anything to do with this, I swear I’ll…”

“You, too, Marie. It’s not going to help to lose control. Anyway, two of the other panel members jumped up and escorted the worthless little…out the door and then blocked it so he couldn’t come back in. Then they each had their say to the rest of the group, defending me. One of them said, and I’m glad he did, that as far as having an illegitimate daughter, well, that was true, and he added that she is a welcome member of my family and an upstanding citizen in her own community.”

“So where was the moderator all this time?”

“Edging his way toward the door, and as soon as Harold and Gene moved away, he fled, mumbling ‘meeting adjourned’ on his way out.”

“Unbelievable,” Marie muttered.

“After the phony meeting adjourned, everyone except for two guys I didn’t know stuck around, and we talked. I knew, of course, that a few of those present were aware of my past and of Richard’s threats because I told them as much last month. That, as you recall, was part of my plan—to admit to my indiscretions, shall we say, before Richard had the chance to expose me. But what I didn’t know was that almost everyone else in the room knew as well. There had to be at least a dozen other men there, besides the ones I told. Seems like the word got around faster than Greg and I ever anticipated. Everyone was on my side, and quite supportive I might add.”

Claire drew in a big breath. “Well, I’m relieved to hear that, but…”

“Me too,” Marie added. “And I’m glad that little shenanigan backfired on him. Serves him right.”

Claire’s eyebrows were raised. “I wonder if he’ll try something else.”

“I don’t know, Claire,” Jonathan responded. “But we’re not going to worry about it. We’re stronger than that little twit. Sorry, Marie.”

“No need to apologize to me. I agree with you. Only I have a much worse name for him.”

Jonathan smiled. “But what Mr. Marchetti doesn’t know is that because of his little escapade, I may have gotten myself a lucrative horse deal. The CEO of Granite Industries, whom I didn’t know until yesterday, wants to meet next week to talk about the small ranch he and his wife just acquired in Geneva. There’s a horse barn on it that will accommodate six horses.” He puffed his chest out. “Ha! Take that, you big ciola.”

“Jonathan! Your language.”

He swallowed the last gulp of Scotch. “I’m going to bed. I’ve had one helluva day. Good night, ladies.”

Marie waited for him to leave. “What does ‘ciola’ mean?”

“I have no idea.” Claire threw up her hands. “But you can be sure it wasn’t very nice.”

CHAPTER 5

‘Til Next Time

Tré’s two daughters, Denise and Brenda, arrived on Tuesday to spend the day while their school was closed for parent/teacher day. Marie and Claire took the girls shopping in the morning. Marie could see that the girls loved spending time with their grandma, especially when it involved shopping. Afterward, the four of them stopped for lunch at the Hotel Baker, another special treat for the girls. Brenda scooted into the chair next to Marie before anyone else could.

When Marie noticed that most of the people seated around them were staring, she shot Claire a puzzled look.

“We’re not your average patrons.” Claire lowered her voice to a whisper so as not to let her grandchildren hear. “Now more so than ever.” With that, Claire gave her a wink.

“So how long are you staying?” Brenda asked Marie after they ordered their meals.

“Three more days.”

“Are you coming back?”

Marie glanced at Claire.

“She’ll be back,” Claire said.

“When?”

“I don’t know, Brenda,” Marie replied. “Soon I hope.”

“How about Christmas?”

“Brenda!” Denise gave her younger sister a gentle poke on the arm.

“We would love for you to spend Christmas with us, Marie,” Claire chimed in. “And if it works out for your friend Karen, bring her too.”

Marie shook her head, somewhat in disbelief of how well the visit was now going. “Okay. And I’ll check with Karen. I know she wants to meet all of you.”

“Is she white?” Denise asked.

“Denise,” Claire said. She gently grabbed her granddaughter’s wrist. “Some things just aren’t polite to ask.”

Marie smiled. “Yes, she’s white.”

“Is she another relative?”

“Denise!”

“That’s okay, Claire. No, she’s just a friend—my best friend.”

Claire and Marie took the girls on an easy horse ride in the afternoon. The day was sunny and unseasonably warm for November in the Midwest, and they rode the whole property, ending up at Tré’s favorite place high on the ridge.

Claire let the girls ride ahead. “Marie, what happened back there in the restaurant…”

“It made me so uncomfortable. There were some people in there who stared at us the whole time, and even whispered to each other. How rude of them.”

“I know. But I don’t let it bother me. I don’t think they mean any harm. They’re just curious because the other Negroes in town don’t come into places like the Hotel Baker. They’re poor, most of them, and they keep more to themselves. Add you to the mix, and their jaws really start flapping.”

Brenda turned around and said to Marie, “Hey, did you ever see my dad’s tree house?”

“No, I haven’t. Where is it?”

Brenda pointed farther into the woods, off the main trail.

“Why don’t you two go exploring, and Denise and I will meet you back at the house,” Claire suggested.

Marie helped Brenda tie up her horse, and they made their way into the brush and trees until Brenda stopped and pointed upward. “There it is!”

Marie looked up to see the bottom of a tree house—roughly five-by-five and at least twenty feet off the ground. “How on earth did anyone ever get up there?”

“Grandma said Dad climbed the tree.”

“How? There aren’t any low limbs.”

“Grandma never liked Dad going up there, but Grandpa said it gave him character…whatever that means.” Brenda hunched up her shoulders and did a comical impression of Claire. “Then Grandma would say, ‘Give him character? All it will give him, Jon, are two broken legs.’”

Marie put her arm around the little girl’s shoulder as they walked back to the horses. When she helped Brenda on to her horse, Brenda said, “I’m glad you’re here, Aunt Marie. I really like you.” Marie smiled but then turned her head so Brenda wouldn’t see her swipe away the tear.

After their morning ride the next day, Jonathan said to Marie, “I have business in Chicago this afternoon. Would you like to join me? You could do a little shopping or something while I’m at the bank, and then we could have a late lunch. What do you say?”

“Sure.” Her thoughts went immediately to Marshall Field’s where she used to work. “How long do you think you’ll be?”

Jonathan scrutinized her face as if he knew what was going through her mind. “As long as you need me to be, sweetheart.”

They talked mostly about Marie’s mother while Walter drove them into the city. “Mom was great. We lived in this little apartment on the north side, and she seemed to be able to schedule her work around my school.” She smiled at him. “I have a feeling you had something to do with that.”

“Let’s just say I made sure the two of you had everything you needed.”

Walter pulled the limo up in front of the bank where Jonathan had business. “Take Miss Costa to wherever she wants to go.” He turned toward Marie. “How much time do you need?”

“Can I have two hours?”

“Sure. I’ll meet you in the lobby of the bank.”

Walter nodded and then looked at Marie for further direction. “Marshall Field’s, please.” The anticipation of going back to her old place of work made her shiver. So many memories. When Marie had found herself in a position where she had to flee from her husband, it had meant she had to flee from her job as well, something she regretted up to this day.

Marie walked with a taut chest through the cosmetic department where she and Richard had had their first encounter. It hadn’t changed much in four years. The store’s impressive architecture, with its twenty-foot-high ceilings and massive ornate columns, was awe-inspiring, especially the center of the floor which opened up into a nine-story domed ceiling that crested with colorful mosaic tiles.

She made her way to the seventh floor where her office used to be. That had changed. The seventh floor was now menswear. She walked toward the elevator looking for a directory.

“Oh my God! Tell me it’s not you.”

Marie turned around to the sound of the familiar voice. Esther looked the same. They hugged each other tight and then in unison swiped tears from their cheeks. “Is there somewhere we can talk?” Marie asked.

Esther pushed the elevator button. “My office is one floor up.”

“Your office?” When Marie was there, Esther had held a junior position in the store that didn’t warrant an office. “And what may I ask are you doing these days?”

Esther grinned. “Assistant buyer.”

“What? Congratulations!” Marie hugged her again.

Esther closed her office door and examined Marie’s face. Marie had been her former boss and friend. She shook a finger at her. “Marie Marchetti, we all thought you were dead!”

She flashed open palms. “I know. I’m sorry. C’mon, let’s sit down, and I’ll explain everything. I have only two hours, so all I can give you are the highlights. But I’d like to get together again when I have more time.”