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"Nothing," I said warily, beginning to understand why she'd acted so strangely. "I certainly didn't encourage him, if that's what you think."

She looked relieved.

"Of course I don't believe that. It's just that for now ... it's a bit of a delicate situation. Please discourage him from coming to your play, should he call you," she said.

"I'll try, but he seems to be a very determined person." She smiled and nodded.

"It didn't take long for you to see that. Anyway, I'm glad you're getting along so well with my mother."

"Victoria is not so glad," I said.

"I know."

"Have you told her the truth?" I asked.

"No, not yet. Mother's doing a good job of holding that eventuality off."

"Why is that necessary?" I pursued.

"Victoria won't...handle it well," she admitted. "I told you. We haven't been as close as sisters should be. I think I was seven years old the last time I told her something secret and she went and told my father immediately to try to get me into trouble.

"Don't worry about it," she contin

ued. "You're doing so well here. I'm proud of you."

I looked at her with surprise.

"I know I can't show it as much as I would like, but I am," she insisted. "Good luck with the play," she said. She smiled and backed out, closing the door softly.

Loneliness made my stomach feel so hollow inside. My heart ached, but I wouldn't let my tears rise to the surface. I swallowed them back, pressing them down into the well and pouring in anger to seal them tightly.

I should take what I can from these people, I thought. Mama was right about that. I should be just like Alison, self-centered- and spoiled, and fill my pockets. Then, when I was satisfied, I would go running back to Mama and we would have a good laugh.

All of us together, laughing at the rich white family that was choking on its secrets and lies.

I should, I should, I chanted, but in my secret heart of hearts, I knew I couldn't be like Alison.

I could only be myself. I really was like Emily Webb, innocent and trusting.

Maybe if I threw myself into Corbette's arms, I could change.

And then maybe, I could survive in this new world.

18

The Big Night

.

Grandmother Hudson finally found a new maid

she believed was qualified and not too soon either, for as the play's opening drew closer, Mr. Bufurd wanted to work more and more with Corbette and me, sometimes spending whole rehearsals just on us. Exams were coming up as well and I had more than enough to study because I had so much catching up to do. I had tried to think of meals that didn't require a great deal of preparation time, and I fell behind on dusting and cleaning. Grandmother Hudson had seen me scurrying about and realized how busy I was.

Fortunately, an African-American woman named Sissy Williams made an excellent first impression. She was tall and stocky with a small bosom and long arms. She claimed to be forty-one, but Grandmother Hudson believed her to be closer to fifty, maybe even fifty-five.

"I don't care if she lies about her age," she told me, "as long as she can do the work we need done."

Sissy had a pleasant disposition with a melodious, happy voice, but she was serious and efficient about the housework, which Grandmother Hudson liked. She took great pride in her work, especially her meal preparation. It only took one dinner to realize she was a very good cook who made a delicious sweet potato pie. She had been born in South Carolina and had worked once in her uncle's restaurant as a chef. She had never been married, but she talked about her nieces and nephews as if they were her own children. I liked her from the start because she had many of Mama's sayings in her book of wisdom. What I especially admired about her was her self-confidence. If I did anything in the kitchen or helped her prepare something, she didn't feel threatened as Merilyn had.