Kacey slows her cinnamon-tinted Ford Elite toward a black buzzer, and white gate, then lowers her window. On the gate reads McDaniels Manor in gold, and through the bars, Judith admires the shrubbery and men in coveralls, trimming them with hedge clippers.
She leans out of her window, and when she mashes the black button with her thumb, a low buzz bursts from the speakers. Kacey rests her arm on the windowsill.
"Hello," a soft voice greets her. The woman's accent resembles one from southern Italy – Catania province, to be exact.
"Hi, Cara, it's Kassandra. I left to pick up a friend," she explains. "Could you open the gate?"
Judith and Kacey watch the gate slide to their left, and when it's three-quarters of the way open, she drives along the curved, stone path.
Judy watches the white men in dingy attire and boots shaping the hedges bordering the side of the driveway. A white woman in black coveralls sprints from the white stairs to her door when she stops at the closed garage.
"Miss. Kassandra, I'm sorry I wasn't here to park for you. I had to help in the kitchen." Her fear-laden voice makes Judith furrow her eyebrows at Kacey.
"It's okay, Carolin," she assures her, and they remove their seatbelts. The ladies exit the Ford Elite, and Judith shuts her door, then sprints around the trunk to follow her. The woman sits behind the wheel and closes the door as the pair ascend the castle-like steps.
"Do y'all beat your slaves or something?" Kacey whips her head to her with a raised brow. "I mean, she nearly fell over for you when she saw you driving."
"Oh, her." She lets out a dry laugh and shakes her head. "No, I don't know what her deal is. I think she just had bad experiences working with the people before us, and now she thinks we're all a bunch of evil rich people."
"No offense, but your Mom sounded – evil," Judith tells her, and they stop at the tall double doors. Kacey takes the silver handle and tugs it.
"Well, I promise you, she's not. She hardly talks, honestly, but she hates when I swear, so," she trails off, lowering her head and gnawing the corner of her bottom lip.
She stares at Judy's clogs as she steps into the foyer, then she shuts the door behind them.
"But welcome to my humble abode," she monotonous says, extending her arms in presentations of the luxuries around them.
Stepping into the grey mansion, Judith didn't have any expectations. Seeing the grounds, as they passed through, full of workers tending to vegetation under the autumn sun with their sweaty foreheads gripping their oily hair, she felt as if she were passing through a plantation.
Entering her home reminded her of her first trip to the White House. She was ten years old, it was nineteen seventy, and she was learning about the Vietnam War. While everyone in her class fawned over Richard Nixon, she gazed around at the portraits, the shiny floors, the staff, and the sculpture of Abraham Lincoln. However, his likeness was more startling than mesmerizing in her eyes.
"Where is everyone," Judith asks. She hears voices not far from them, but as she scans the foyer, she only sees white men and women wandering around with dishes and chairs. Kacey takes her hand and guides her through the main entry. "And what's going on?"
They turn left at the fork — marching toward the spiral staircase resembling one leading to a palace's tower — and she gazes through the glass on the kitchen's doors ahead, watching the staff scramble to prepare dinner.
Kacey releases her halfway up the narrow stairs and smiles at the growing wonder in her dark browns. Judith's hands trail the cinder blocks on either side of them as if she needs an indication that everything is real.
"Go ahead, Charlie." Judith looks up at her, her voice resonating as she teases through an ear-to-ear smile. "Lick the wall. I promise you it tastes like boysenberry."
"I'm sorry," she says with a feeble chuckle as they climb the last step. "I've just never been in a place like this before. It's out of sight."
"I'd hope not, for my Dad's sake." Judy follows her down the slender hall of doors with the sunlight from the window at the end of the floor, illuminating them through the otherwise darkness. "If he finds out there's a house like this somewhere, he'll either tear this one down and start over or buy that one and demolish it."
"So, if he has the means to fund something that silly, why would he complain about paying your tuition," she asks, and they stop at the last door on the left. Kacey drags her attention toward her.
"Houses are just business to him, Judy. School is different; like our careers and marriage, he doesn't believe money can buy that. He thinks if I have to pay to be a nurse, for example, I'm obviously not qualified." She sits her hand on the knob and turns it as Judith ponders over her answer. She nudges the door open, and their faces instantly light up with smiles.
Veronica and Jennifer are swaying to the record player, their close bodies forming a silhouette against the sunlight. Tell it like it is by Aaron Neville is playing, and the alluring bass guitar draws them into the spacious room.
Kacey slowly dances toward them while snapping her fingers, leaving Judith at the door, scanning the area. Ronnie spins her back to Jenny and glides her hands up the nape of her long hair.
Ronnie loosely drops with the beat, and though Jenny does the same, her body remains stiff as she helps Veronica stay on her feet.
I need to talk to Juniper.
"Where's Juniper," Judith asks as she steps toward the king-sized bed near the door. She sits on the side and observes the gyrating trio.
"She's at home," Jennifer answers, and Judith wears her confusion on her face.
Then why am I here?
"Oh, and you just missed La'Shawna. Cyrus picked her up," Veronica chimes in. When the song ends, the girls straighten their posture, and Kacey walks toward the record player on her dresser.
Ronnie and Jenny step toward the foot of the bed and sit with one leg under themselves, Kacey's bed covering draping against the back of their plain peasant dresses.
"So, um," Jennifer pauses to gather her thoughts, licking her lips. "Is it true that you're not going to Morehead? We heard you talking to Kacey."
Judith glances at Kacey and notices her staring through her window at the front yard. She's lifted the needle from the disc, and she has the circular object at her side in her left hand.
"We're not judging you in any way," she continues, grasping Judith's attention with her sharp tone. Veronica wipes the back of her right hand across her clammy forehead. "We just wanna know because we kind of already packed our bags."
Veronica lifts her hair off her back and neck, then, with her eyes alternating between them, she twirls her locks into a bun.
"I wish I could, but I can't; my family needs me. Especially now that we're moving," she explains. Ronnie rolls her eyes, and Jenny groans. "I'm sorry, I told Kacey this over the phone. I know she's upset, and you both are, but I hope it's not — I don't want you to direct it at me."
They turn their backs to her, shaking their heads at each other. Judith lowers her chin to her chest and licks her lips. Taking a deep breath without straightening her posture, she stands to her feet and observes them. Kacey hasn't moved from her spot, and her stern gaze is focused on the front of her house.
Why're they dressed like that?
"Was there some party or something I lucked out on," Judith asks with a dry chuckle. She walks around the edge of the bed and leans against the post as Ronnie and Jenny share a glance. They look at her with confusion.
Judith looks at Jennifer when she asks, "What're you talking about?"
"You two are dressed like Mary when usually you have a more laid-back style," she explains with confidence, then her eyes wander to the floor, and her voice lowers. "But I guess I haven't been around off-campus. I don't know. It's just weird seeing you two in dresses."
"And it feels weird wearing one," Veronica says, tugging at the top of her cleavage. "I like showing off my girls, but Kassandra demanded us to dress formal."
"But not too formal," Jennifer interjects, and Kacey turns her head to her left, narrowing her eyes over her shoulder. Kacey clears her throat.
"Talk shit on your own time. We need to head downstairs." She sets the disc on the plastic container next to her record player.
"Careful. Mrs. McDaniels sounded like she was serious about giving you a country whipping if she heard you curse again," Jennifer jokingly warns her. Though Veronica snickers and Judith cracks a smile, Kacey rolls her eyes.
They follow her out of the room and down the hall.
They descend the spiral staircase into the empty foyer, then follow the soft classical music to the dining room beside the kitchen. Judith peeks through the kitchen's glass and catches a glimpse of a burly man pouring alcohol across a slab of meat on the pan. As expected, a burst of blue fire with yellow accents rises before him, so he leans back, and it drops into the pan.
Kacey presses the double doors apart, and they step into the black and burgundy room as wide as Judith's kitchen and living room. Surrounding a long sheet-clad table are eleven people, leaving four chairs empty.
They shuffle to their seats, and when they sit, Judith's curious eyes drift from sculpture to paintings, wait-staff holding glass pitchers, then the mysterious midnight-skinned man across from her.
"So nice of you to join us, Kassandra," Paola says from the left end of the table. Judith glances at her, then at Kacey as she fakes a smile.
She resembles her mother more than her father, who's sitting at the opposite end of the table across from his wife.
Paola's skin is like the color of brown sugar and her jet-black waves swing an inch above her shoulders when she turns her head. She has feminine beauty, a frame, and grace similar to Gloria Hendry's.
"So, are you going to introduce us to your friends," her father asks, and Kacey clears her throat. His face is a perfect oval, and he has stern, dark eyes. He reminds Judith of Jeffrey Osborne.
"Mom, Dad, this is Veronica and Jennifer. You know them already; they come by every other weekend," she mutters with annoyance. Paola glances at her husband, then at Judy when Kacey reaches her. "And this is Judith. She's in that Christian group with me."
"Enchanté," Judith greets them, and the scrawny man next to the one across from her nudges him in awe. She watches them speak under their breath before she glances at Kacey.
"Tu parle francais," Paola asks with furrowed eyebrows, ceasing the murmuring around them.
"Ouí, mais tres petite." Paola emits a breath through her nose— a suppressed laugh at Judy.
"Did you visit France? I noticed you have a Parisian accent when you speak," Paola says, and Judith shakes her head.
"I taught myself." Paola and Kacey blink with surprise. Ronnie and Jenny share a glance along with the others around the table. "My Dad was French, and he never taught me the language, so I taught myself when I was sixteen."
"You're half-French," Paola asks, and Judith looks around without turning her head.
"Well, I suppose so. I'm French and Native American." Kacey's father sniggers at her and draws everyone's attention but the man across from Judith and the other beside him.
"So the hippie with my daughter's future in her hands is a mutt. Would you look at that," he taunts, and Judith narrows her eyes at him, unsure of his intentions. She watches from her peripheral at Kacey's jaw shifting.
"Joseph!" He darts his attention to his stern wife. "Please, don't speak that way in front of her recruiter."
Recruiter?
Judith looks at the man across from her, and her heart begins to race when he cracks a smile. Joseph glares at Paola.
Did she ambush me?
"When our reputation is hanging by a thread, you know how I get," he argues. Judith slowly turns her head to Kacey. "She needs to get into that school. No other Ivy League will accept her, and it's embarrassing enough having a daughter who refuses to get married but is too intellectually inadequate to get herself into – I don't know – Cornell."
Kacey's breathing increases, but her eyes are locked on the cutlery in front of her. Judith's anger crumbles at the glossy look in her eyes.
"Troy, speak a little Creole." Joseph turns to his son to his left. He's one of three boys, and unlike them, he's wearing black round glasses.
"This isn't necessary," Paola feebly attempts to stop him, but her son interrupts.
"Kassandra se jis parese; pa entelektyèlman ensifizan." Paola shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath to calm herself. Troy smirks, and Kacey clinches the side of her brown skirt, her heart pounding against her white prairie blouse.
"I only say this because I care about her." Kacey rolls her eyes, then quickly wipes them when tears hit her lashes. "I need her to go to that school. I mean, Troy and his brothers are helping me with the business. Her sisters are getting married, but if she can't do either, then what will she do?"
"I wanted to help you with your business, but because I'm a woman, you won't let me anywhere near it, and I'm better at math than Troy, Donald, and Leonardo put together," she argues, her voice shaking. Members of the kitchen staff walk into the dining room with carts of silver domes covering plates of food.
"Exactly. You're a woman, and in all my fifty-nine years of living, I've never heard of a woman oil tycoon." Kacey scoffs and shakes her head.
"What about that woman that was buried in her car two years ago?" Joseph brings his brows together. The staff stop the carts beside each of those at the table and lift the lids.
Steaming steak and potatoes on china draw their attention. They're decorated with basil leaves and paired with asparagus. Once they sit their respective diner's meal before them, they push their carts out of the room.
"Her name was Sandra — something," Kacey continues. Everyone, but Judith, lift their napkins, and she watches them unfold theirs. The ladies sit theirs on their laps, and the men tuck theirs on their collars.
"That woman married one; she wasn't one." Kacey grinds her teeth again, sighing with her head hung. "Kassandra, if that's what you want to do – be a capitalist's wife – then that's fine. I encourage it, but you need to figure something out."
Judith places her napkin over her lap and gazes around the table. Joseph takes his glass of scotch, and Kacey watches him take a sip. "What if I just be the man you want me to marry, and I just – marry a woman instead?"
He coughs out his drink, and his eyes widen before he can wipe his mouth with his napkin. Paola glares at Kacey.
"Kassandra Irene!" They watch her snatch the napkin from her lap and toss it on her plate of food, then scoot out of her chair. Kacey storms out of the room with her face scrunched.