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Authors: Florence Osmund
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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
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
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