Yellow Wife(45)



“I have a surprise. Bring Hester.”

July picked up the baby and we followed him downstairs. In the living room stood a man next to a wooden box camera resting on a thick stick.

“Our first family photograph.” He held his hand out to me and guided me to the Queen Anne chair.

I pursed my lips. A family photograph without Monroe. I knew by now not to question him. I forced glee into my eyes and clung to Hester.



* * *



The guests arrived one couple at a time, with just minutes between them. The Jailer had me stand next to him to receive each pair as they crossed the porch and entered the house.

“Hector, my friend, may I present to you Pheby Delores Brown, mistress of the Lapier jail and mother of my firstborn daughter, Hester Francine Lapier.”

It was the first time that he’d introduced me that way, and I felt the color rise in my cheeks.

“How do you do?” The man kissed my hand.

“Congratulations. Motherhood suits you,” said the woman with him. “I am Anne.” She was nearly white.

The second couple arrived, David and Helen. Basil served the wine and Tommy held a tray with small snacks of olives, peppers, soft cheese, and crusty bread. July had the difficult job of collecting gifts for Hester and dashing to the back room to check on Monroe. Now sixteen months old, Monroe had become quite confident on his feet, and I worried that he would get hurt.

Next, a man of small stature with a long mustache arrived. On his arm was draped a beautiful woman decked out in a cream-and-burgundy dress. It was finer than anything I had ever seen, better even than the pictures in a catalogue. When she brought her black-rimmed eyes to mine, I recognized her as the woman I’d seen on my first trip to the market. The one who had complimented my bonnet.

“Silas Omohundro, may I present to you Pheby Delores Brown, mistress of the Lapier jail and mother of my firstborn daughter, Hester Francine Lapier.”

“How do you do?” The man kissed my hand.

“I am Corrina Hinton,” the lovely woman breathed in my ear as she pecked my cheek. Her perfume smelled heady; it took my breath away.

Silas and Corrina made a most handsome pair. She too was very fair, and carried herself in such a stately manner that I shrank in her presence.

“May I hold her?” Corrina reached for the baby. Green and red gemstones dripped from her fingers, and gold bracelets adorned both wrists.

“Beautiful. Just like her mother.” She smiled at me and then handed Hester back.

The Jailer had hired a violinist for the evening, and we all made our way to the parlor to be entertained. As the gray-haired violinist played, I felt the tune move through me, and could not help but wonder what we would sound like together. The Jailer must have read my mind, because just then he called my name.

“Pheby, dear, would you honor our guests with a selection on the piano?”

“Of course.” I smiled sweetly.

All eyes were on me as I sauntered toward the piano. The instant my fingers grazed the keys, I felt at ease. The moment rivaled old times on the plantation, with me entertaining important guests and being admired for my talent. The violinist accompanied me perfectly, and we each paused to give the other a chance at a solo. Then we ended with one last piece and moved through the notes in concert. Everyone applauded. The Jailer looked at me approvingly just as Elsie rang the dinner bell.

“Let us eat.” He led the way to the dining room.

It was not nearly as impressive as the one on the Bell plantation, but for a city home, I imagined it suitable. The mahogany table seated ten people comfortably. July reached for Hester and then the Jailer pulled out my seat opposite his at the head of the table. Another first. Though we had been taking meals together for months, I had always sat to his right, never opposite him, never with company. The couples sat in the middle of the table with the men closest to him, and the women closest to me. The first course was pea soup and sweetbread. The men chatted, falling into a comfortable conversation of their own, while we women glanced around and sipped daintily from our spoons. I racked my brain for an interesting subject. Since I had never entertained as hostess before, I had no idea what to talk about. I opened my mouth to make a comment on the weather, but Anne spoke first.

“You are gifted on the piano. How long have you played?”

“Feels like most of my life. I started very early.”

“And your dress is gorgeous. Where did you get it?” Helen put down her spoon.

“A German seamstress on Grace Street.”

“Hilda?” Corrina raised an eyebrow. “We live on the same street. She is tightly threaded until you get to know her.”

“I have had my moments with her too,” chimed Helen.

“She did not seem to want to work with me until I threw Rubin Lapier’s name into the conversation.”

“She can be peculiar like that, but once she warms up to you she will go above and beyond your request.”

“Did she make your dress?” I asked Corrina.

“Oh, this?” She looked down like she’d forgotten what she was wearing. “Silas sent for it from New York. A gift for giving him his first daughter. We have four sons.”

“I do not know how you keep it together, Corrina, and still manage to look like that.” Helen flicked her hand and we shared a low laugh.

Sadeqa Johnson's Books