Here Comes the Sun(87)

After the telephone call, Verdene fills a pot with water to boil some cerassee leaves to get rid of her headache. As soon as she turns on the stove, she hears knocking at her gate. Two men dressed in white shirts, dark pants, and blue hard hats are standing there, waiting for the sealed envelope with the signed contract. Verdene goes out to greet them on her veranda.

“I’m not signing this,” she tells them through the grille. She won’t give them the satisfaction of robbing her this way. Uprooting people from their homes like this and having the nerve to pay them less than what their property is worth.

“Ma’am, we need your signature,” the shorter one says to Verdene. “We gave you time. We are behind on construction. You’re the only property owner who hasn’t signed.”

“What do you want me to do about that?” she asks the man, who looks to be in his twenties. Perhaps a new university graduate convinced that he’s making a difference.

“Comply.”

“What for? You think I’m stupid like the rest?”

“Ma’am, you seem like the most reasonable one around here.” The taller one gestures to her frame behind the burglar bars, leaving off words Verdene knows he’s thinking when he sees her lighter skin and hears her British accent. “Legally, we cannot do anything without your signature.”

“Legally?” Verdene laughs, throwing her head back. “Did you read this?” She holds up the paper and rattles it for emphasis. “This is illegal! Your bosses are sending you out here to do their dirty work. This house belonged to my mother. I’m not signing this without a lawyer.”

The two men glance at each other.

“May I ask who’s in charge? I’d like to take this up with them.”

“Ma’am?”

“Who’s in charge?” she repeats. “And stop calling me ma’am!”

“It’s Sutton and Company,” the taller man says.

“I want the name of the parent company. It says here that you’re a subsidiary group, but there’s no information about your affiliate.”

“Wellington Estate, ma—I mean, miss.”

“Wellington? Like the rum and coffee plantation?”

“They also own properties on the coast. Alphonso Wellington is the one in charge.”

Alphonso. The one Margot works for? The one who promoted her to general manager for his new hotel? Somewhere remote and off the beaten path, according to Margot. Verdene covers her mouth with one hand as everything takes shape in her mind. How many nights has Margot been with her, knowing that this would happen? Verdene reaches for the doorknob.

“I—I have something on the stove, if you don’t mind,” she says. “Let your boss know that my lawyer will be in touch.”

“Miss, we can’t—”

But Verdene stops listening as the door closes behind her. She takes slow, careful steps toward the kitchen, seeing but unseeing. She sits at the table and cradles her pounding head in her hands. Margot knew how much this house meant to her. Not once did she let on that she was aware of the details of this development. The night when Verdene returned to the house shaking with relief from surviving the meeting at Dino’s, Margot gave her a bath. She had climbed inside the tub with her and gently cooed in her ear that it’s a sign for them to leave River Bank. “You, me, and Thandi can live together in the house I bought. For us.”

“I’m not letting them destroy my mother’s house.”

“You’re a property owner. You’ll get your money’s worth.”

“I need a lawyer before I make any decisions.”

“Why go through all that trouble to hire a lawyer and drain the life insurance money Miss Ella left you? For what? For them to read a couple pages that you can read yourself? All I’m asking is for you to trust that I can take care of you. Consider my offer. The new house is in a gated community where no one will bother us. You don’t have to suffer like you suffered here. This house might be your mother’s legacy, but our new house is ours.”

“I need some time to think.”

“Verdene, jus’ give it a rest.” Margot pulled her back into the tub. “Jus’ trust me.”

Verdene begins to chuckle, clutching the edges of the table as her body gives way to trembling. Her eyes fill with tears. She had been fooled. Tricked into being vulnerable. By the type of woman who gave her the urge to sing along to the radio, feeling light and heavy at the same time. The type of woman who makes her think of rain-soaked October days in the midst of a drought. The type of woman who brought her to the kitchen—once on all fours—to lovingly cook her meals. And when they make love, the type of woman who cries as though Verdene has given her the best gift in the world. And yes, Verdene gave her everything—her whole self—and wanted for nothing. She thought that being with Margot would make up for lost years. She had begun to look forward. Verdene wipes her face. She feels old. Worn out and old. She smells something burning and remembers the pot of water for the cerassee tea. It was her mother’s favorite pot. One she has kept and cared for over the years. Verdene moves quickly to the kitchen to turn off the stove. She stands over it for a long time, peering inside the blackened interior where the water has evaporated.





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