The House of Eve (26)
Just then, the woman in uniform stood tinkling a silver bell. “Brunch is served.”
They followed his parents into the adjacent dining room. The table was elaborately dressed, with gold chargers and ivory linen. Lit candles and magnolia petals streamed down the center, on a silk table runner. A beautiful presentation of stenciled bone china was set before each guest. The table comfortably accommodated sixteen. William pulled out a high-back chair for her and then sat beside her. Eleanor watched as two of the women she had mistaken as white sat next to the red-faced men. Looking at them more closely, she could see the slight spread of the first woman’s nose, and then the other lady’s fuller lips.
It was then that Eleanor realized that she was in a room filled with white-faced Negroes. When she looked down at her hands, she gathered that she was the brownest person at the table. Only the two women serving in uniform and the man who opened the front door were darker. She listened to the guests as they chattered among themselves, and while their pronunciations weren’t quite white, they weren’t full-on the way her people talked either. As she watched, slowly the nuances of their Negro features came to life in the depth of their expressions, shape of their lips, breadth of their noses and richness of their laughs. Her initial impression had been wrong.
Mr. Pride called for grace.
Just as they bowed their heads, the sound of high heels clicked through the hallway. When Eleanor looked up, she saw none other than Greta Hepburn, with an older gentleman at her side, step into the room. Greta dashed straight to Rose Pride, kissing her on both cheeks.
“My mother sends her apologies. She woke up this morning with a splitting headache. She said she’ll telephone you to make plans for lunch later this week.”
Eleanor kept her face even, although her armpits began to sweat. Greta, wearing a lovely sapphire-blue frock with a wide bow at her waist, sashayed around the table bidding everyone hello. Her dress looked more expensive than Eleanor’s entire wardrobe. When Greta finally took her seat, it was directly across from Eleanor and William. She tilted her head in a curt greeting, and then William’s father blessed the food. As the first course of spring salad and tomato soup was being served, Greta looked at Eleanor with a curious expression.
“Eleanor, right? I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Good to see you again, too,” Eleanor replied, knowing full well that Greta knew her name.
Greta turned her attention. “William Pride, you owe me a tennis match. I haven’t seen you at the Heritage Club in ages,” she belted over scrapes of spoons and forks.
“It’s been a while.”
“Well, let’s do it soon. Tomorrow?” she offered with a cheeky grin.
William dropped an arm around Eleanor’s chair. “Things are a bit busy now, but a rain check?”
Greta looked from William to Eleanor and said, “I’ll hold you to it.”
The meal concluded with a fruit salad topped with mint ice cream, and then folks drifted away from the table. Despite the January weather, a few men slipped onto the back patio for a cigar around the firepit, while the women smoked cigarettes in the parlor. Eleanor didn’t seem to fit anywhere, and found herself in the downstairs powder room, trying to make sense of it all. When she came out, Greta was waiting by the door.
“What’s going on between you and William?” she asked through gritted teeth.
Eleanor remembered the spilled drink. “What’s it to you?”
“Just curious—our families go way back.” She eyed her, and then opened her compact and started powdering her nose.
“Yes, you said that.”
Greta turned her gaze onto Eleanor. “Some advice, just between us girls. It would be wise for you to walk away from him. Save yourself the time.”
Eleanor couldn’t believe her audacity, but before she could open her mouth, Greta continued. “I remember your application to the ABCs detailing your busy position at the library. And then I saw you through the window folding sweaters at Ware’s, too. My, I don’t understand how you’d have time for a beau, what with all your jobs.” She spat out the word “jobs” as if it was dirty.
“Just what are you saying?” Eleanor pushed her words out with fury.
Greta closed her compact and slipped it back into her clutch. “I’m just trying to save you the trouble. He’s out of your league, dear one.”
“You don’t know me.”
“Listen,” she took a step forward, “you want to make the Alpha Beta Chi line next semester? Then you best follow my advice.”
Eleanor took a step closer so they were eye to eye. “Sounds like a threat.”
“There are plenty of men on campus for you to rendezvous with. William belongs to us,” she said impatiently, and Eleanor thought she saw a speck of desperation in her honey eyes.
“Well, I guess that’s for him to decide.” Eleanor spun on her heels and went searching for William.
* * *
Eleanor was quiet on the drive back to campus as she relived her conversation with Greta over and over again. Just who did she think she was? And what did she mean by he “belongs to us”? Light-skinned folk? Or Negroes with more money than they could count?
“I’m going to do a little studying at the library. You want to come, baby?” William caressed her knee before grabbing hold of the clutch.