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“Rhine!”
He didn’t look back.
On the drive to the saloon an irritated Rhine thought about the many reasons he refused to sell the Union. First and foremost it was his, and gossiping aside, only he had the right to decide whether to place it on the block. Secondly, having been a slave who’d never owned so much as the clothes on his back, reaping the benefits of a profitable business whose deed bore his name meant a great deal. It also meant a great deal to his patrons, not only socially but economically. Three years ago, when Cecil Roland came to town and couldn’t find anyone who’d lease him space to open his blacksmith shop, Rhine offered up one of the properties he owned, just as he’d done for two of the town’s barbers and a laundress. The investments turned out to be good ones, as all four businesses were thriving. As owner of the Union, he helped purchase Bibles for the Baptist church—even though he had a keen dislike for the pompous Whitman Brown—and helped pay for the train ticket needed by Zeke Reynold to accompany Doc Randolph to one of the civil rights conventions held last year. With all that in mind, selling the Union might make Natalie and the gossip harpies happy but it would have a very negative impact on the Colored community, and Rhine refused to be party to that.
Turning his carriage onto the main street, he decided to stop in and see the old fishmonger, Amos Granger. The Thursday night fish fry was one of the Union Saloon’s most profitable events. Rhine hoped to convince the man to modify his decision to sell their usual supply to MissEddy Carmichael.
When Rhine walked in, Granger looked up from the fish he was gutting. “I suppose you’re here about your fish.”
“I am.”
“Not changing my mind, Rhine. To have that pretty little thing come into my shop, I’d sell her my entire catch seven days a week. Be glad she only asked for one day.”
Rhine’s amusement made him smile. “She is quite lovely, isn’t she.”
“Make an old man like me wish I wasn’t. Real fine cook, too.”
“So I hear. She’s taking my customers.”
“The way that girl cooks, you’ll be lucky to have any customers at all if she stays around.”
Rhine had been wondering if she was still planning on striking out for California. Not wanting Granger or anyone else knowing she’d spent those first few days at the Union, he said, “Sylvie told me she was on her way to California when the man who was driving her across the desert robbed her and put her off the wagon.”
“That’s what I heard, too. If I ever come across him, I’ll gut him just like a fish. You don’t do a lady that way.”
Rhine wanted to gut the unknown man as well.
“So, not changing my mind about the fish,” Granger added. “You and Jim will just have to pick out another night for the fish fry.”
“You’re a cold man, Amos Granger.”
“Turn yourself into a woman as beautiful as MissEddy and promise me my favorite dessert twice a month and I may reconsider.”
Rhine laughed. “She bribed you?”
“Sure did, and I took it like a politician at the state capital.”
“Fine. We’ll pick another night.”
Granger nodded and went back to his gutting. Rhine left the shop and climbed back into his carriage.
So little MissEddy had Granger in the palm of her hand, too. Who else would she be impacting? he wondered. Even though he knew setting out for California was her dream, it didn’t mean he had to like the idea of her leaving. Their truce notwithstanding, he selfishly wanted her to remain in the city, if for no other reason than to be able to run into her every now and again on the streets or at events. He admired the way she’d handled Natalie’s gracelessness at Vera’s. Thinking back on the incident brought to mind the dilemma his fiancée posed. Until today he’d had no idea how intolerant she was. Bigoted, was more the word if he were being honest. Her behavior in the shop and her words at the table added up to someone he found not only surprising but distasteful. He’d already made the difficult decision to cross the color line. Would he be able to stomach marriage to a woman who had nothing but disdain for the blood running through his veins, too? And what if they had children? Would they grow up mirroring that same intolerance? And because he knew the answer to that question, he couldn’t marry her. Not and live with himself.
That evening, he paid a call on the Greer family and found them at dinner. He met Natalie’s smiling eyes only long enough to nod a cool greeting. “My apology for showing up unannounced and interrupting your dinner, but Lyman, I’d like to speak with you privately if I may.”
Lyman paused and shared a quick silent look with his wife before placing his linen napkin beside his plate. “Certainly. Let’s go into my study.”
Once inside, Lyman closed the door and gestured Rhine to a chair. “What is this about?” he asked, taking a seat in the chair behind his desk.
“I’ve decided Natalie and I don’t suit.”
“Beatrice told me what happened, but rest assured, I’ve spoken with my daughter and she has seen the error of her ways.”
“It’s not that simple, Lyman, and we both know it.”
“Surely you aren’t going to break things off over one silly little incident?”
“You may consider it silly, but coupled with her insistence that I sell my business, I see nothing but tears and disagreements ahead. I’d like to spare her that and allow her to seek a husband who won’t subject her to gossip or make her a laughingstock, as she’s termed it.”
