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“We wanted to ask you some more questions,” said Jack. “If you have time.”
“Baby got to go down,” said Pearl, looking at the little girl on Miss Jessup’s hip.
“I can take care ’a Darla Jean,” said Miss Jessup. “You pour out some iced teas and get out those cookies I made and get down to it. This is for Jerome. Ain’t nothin’ more important than that.”
They all went inside. The space was half the size of Jack’s place. At least five people lived here, he knew, and, unlike his home, it was spotless. He saw all the crocheted pillows with little sayings that looked hand-sewn by talented fingers.
Pearl led them to the kitchen and asked them to sit, while Miss Jessup put Darla Jean to bed. Pearl bustled around getting the iced teas and cookies.
“I think I heard you was from Chicago?” Miss Jessup said as she rejoined them.
“Yes. My parents were from Shreveport, Louisiana, originally, but they left two years before I was born to find work in Illinois.”
“Lotta Black folk headed north, or west,” said Miss Jessup. “I was born in Alabama. Had three of my children there. We were sharecroppers, all colored people around there were. I could pick my weight in cotton by the time I was ten. Penny a pound and the white man took the rest. Lord, you know how much cotton you got to pick to make a pound? Fingers all cut up, back bent, knees hollowed out.” She shook her head. “Field of cotton looks right pretty from a distance. Close up it’s ugly. It is ugly. But we made do. We got by.”
Jack stared blankly at her. He knew none of this. Granted, she had never offered, but then again he had never asked.
Pearl set a plate of cookies down on the table along with two iced teas.
“Thank you, these look wonderful.” DuBose picked one up and bit into it. “And they taste even better than they look.”
Pearl said hesitantly, “Thank you, ma’am.”
“It’s just Desiree. May I call you Pearl, or would you prefer Mrs. Washington?”
Pearl’s gaze now lifted to DuBose’s and her features brightened. “Oh... you can call me Pearl, Desiree.”
Miss Jessup turned her gaze to Jack. “Your daddy come by to see me last night.”
“I know. I asked him to.”
“I told him ’bout a man that come to see Mr. Leslie a while back. Mr. Leslie got real mad. Run that man off and told Jerome nobody gonna make him leave his house.”
“Who was the man?” asked Jack.
“Don’t know.”
Pearl added, “Jerome say he ain’t never, never, never seen Mr. Leslie that mad.”
“Did he mention anything else that Mr. Leslie might have said?” asked DuBose. “Like why he thought someone was trying to make him leave his house?”
Miss Jessup shook her head. “No. Jerome might remember somethin’ more.”
“Have you ever met the Randolphs’ children, Pearl?” Jack asked.
“I met Miss Christine. The Randolphs asked us to come over one day. We got all dressed up and, Miss Anne, she made us this delicious lunch we had out by the pool.” She paused and hunched forward. “She told Jerome to bring some swimsuits, so’s we did and they let the children swim. Now, my kids ain’t know how to swim so I didn’t think I wanted them in the water. But Jerome say Miss Anne got these floaty things they wear to keep ’em up. And we just stayed in the part where it weren’t too deep anyways.”
DuBose glanced at Jack for a moment. “The Randolphs had you to lunch and a swim in their pool?”
Miss Jessup cleared her throat. “Surprised me too. Mr. Randolph ain’t known for bein’ like that with colored folks. I mean, who is ’round here?”
“So why?” persisted DuBose.
Pearl answered. “Jerome say Miss Anne told her husband that she want to do it.”
“Now, I believe that with Miss Anne,” said Miss Jessup. “I worked for them some, long time ago, cookin’ and cleanin’. She come from Boston, I believe; so she might think different ’bout people like us.”
DuBose nodded and looked at Pearl. “Go ahead with your story, Pearl.”
