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“Are you a churchgoing woman?”
“No.” And after meeting him, even if she had been, she wouldn’t be attending any services he conducted. She didn’t care for his pompous manner. Before she could politely excuse herself, he went on to tell her about being from Cleveland, attending Howard College, and having previously worked at the Freedman’s bank. She decided it would be rude to ask if he was one of the men responsible for its inept operation.
“I need to get back to the kitchen,” she said finally in the middle of him telling her again about his important duties at the bank.
Later that evening, as she sat on the back porch with Sylvia drinking lemonade, she asked, “Is Mr.Brown always such a blowhard?”
“Always. And he’s convinced he’s better than the rest of us poor Coloreds because of his bright skin. Says his mother won’t allow him to propose to anyone darker than a brown paper bag, so he’s still unmarried.”
After listening to his inflated opinions of himself, she didn’t find that surprising. The brown paper bag test was well-known. Eddy always saw it as both shameful and ridiculous. The bigotry practiced by those outside the race was harmful enough without bigotry being meted out by those within.
After Sylvie excused herself to go inside and write a letter to her brother back East, Eddy reviewed her evening. She was pleased that her food had been so well received and that she hadn’t burned anything. It would take her a little while to learn all the ins and outs on the stove, but she knew becoming completely comfortable with it would only be a matter of time. Being healed up and back on her feet made her feel good as well. She felt as if she’d been bedridden for years.
Her thoughts then turned to Rhine Fontaine. His invitation to dinner had been surprising and, yes, insulting, if she were being truthful. Did he believe she thought so little of herself that she’d keep time with a man engaged to be married? She supposed with his looks and money some women might have jumped at the chance to take him up on the offer, but she was not one of them. Did he often dally with women outside his race? Was he one of those men who slaked their lust with women of color but treated their own women like fragile regal queens? Was that why he proposed what he had? Eddy doubted she’d ever get answers to the questions, but decided she was okay with the not knowing. Her new life didn’t include him anyway.
Still in need of that drink, Rhine threaded his way through the Union’s evening crowd. Behind the bar his young bartender, Kenton “Kent” Randolph, looked up from the drink he was pouring for his father, Dr.Oliver Randolph, and smiled. “Evenin’, Rhine. Where’ve you been?” Kent asked.
Rhine could barely hear him over the noise.
“Took Natalie to dinner.” And had his ego filleted by one Eddy Carmichael. Rhine went behind the bar and took down a bottle of bourbon. As he treated himself to a healthy portion, he glanced curiously between father and son. The Randolph men were so estranged these days, he was surprised they weren’t shouting at each other, which was their usual means of conversing. “How are you, Doc?” Rhine asked.
“Doing just fine, Rhine. You boys ready to get whipped on Friday?”
The doctor was referring to the annual baseball game between the Colored Republicans and the Whites. His teasing added another barb to an already trying day. “How about letting us play with fifteen men?” Rhine asked.
Kenton laughed. “Your side could play with thirty and we’d still whip you.”
Doc chuckled, raised his glass of gin, and drifted off into the crowd.
Rhine asked Kent, “You two make peace?”
Kent put the top back on his father’s favorite gin. “Hell, no. He’s a customer. I’m the barkeep. As long as he’s not telling me how to handle my life, I don’t have to tell him to mind his own business.”
An amused Rhine thought that made sense. Kent was eighteen. His father wanted him to go back East to medical school so Kent could take over his clients once he retired. All Kent wanted was to be a rancher. They’d been arguing over the matter for the past six months. Rhine was friends with them both so he stayed out it. “I’m heading up to my office. Anything I need to know?”
“Edgar Carter wants to rent the place in a few weeks to celebrate him and his wife’s thirty years of marriage. I told him I’d talk to you and let him know.”
Edgar was the barber who cut Micah and Christian’s hair. Rhine made a note to ride over to the orphanage to see how the twins had been behaving while he was away. “Does Edgar have a date in mind?” The Union Saloon also served as a social hall for the city’s Colored community, being the only venue in Virginia City they were allowed to use for such celebratory purposes.
“I wrote it down. It’s on your desk.”
“Okay, as long as there’s nothing else going on, I don’t see why he can’t.”
“I told him that, too.”
Rhine saluted him with his glass and headed to the kitchen.
Jim Dade looked up from the pots he was washing at the large sink. “How was dinner?”
“Long. Why did I propose to Natalie?”
Jim stopped, gave him a look, and went back to the pots. “I asked you that question six months ago.”
Rhine sighed. “I’m hoping she breaks things off before I lose my mind and have to be sold to the circus.”
Jim laughed softly.
“It’s not funny.”
