Little Girl Lost 6: The Return of Johnnie Wise (11 page)

“I did. But there’s a matter of a five thousand dollar check. I’d like to see it, if I may.”

Johnnie looked into his eyes, which told her that Mr. Saunders was like any other man who found her attractive. He could be easily handled if she smiled and talked sensibly, unlike Linda Schumacher, who coveted power. “May I ask why you need to see my check, sir?”

“Well, we just want to be sure it isn’t stolen,” Mr. Saunders said.

Johnnie took a deep breath and said, “Mr. Saunders, you’ve spoken to Hank. Does he have an account here, or doesn’t he? If he doesn’t, I’ll gladly leave your store. But if he does, and he told you to let me put a few items on his account, I’m not sure why you’re asking me about money that belongs to me exclusively.”

“I see, and I fully understand your trepidation, but five thousand dollars is a lot of money.”

“Come now, Mr. Saunders. Let’s not mince words. You mean five thousand dollars is a lot of money for a woman, particularly a Negro woman, right? Lord knows, Linda here, who works for you couldn’t possibly have that much money, and she’s a white woman. You’re skeptical because I’m a Negress. If I were white and male, you and I both know we would not be having this conversation. And so does Linda.”

Saunders looked at Linda, who was now looking at the floor, then back at Johnnie. He offered an insincere laugh before saying, “I just want to be sure the money’s yours and not one of our customers who may not yet realize they’ve lost it. I’m sure an obviously educated and articulate woman like you can understand my concern. Besides, it doesn’t make any sense that Hank would tell me you’re down on your luck if you have a five thousand dollar check, does it?”

Still looking into his eyes, taking advantage of her beauty and his weakness, she smiled again and said, “Point taken. May I ask you a question, Mr. Saunders?”

“It’s
Miss
Schumacher.”

“That’s right,” Johnnie said, smiling. “You’ve never had a husband. Only God knows why. A charming woman like you should have the men folk lined up around the corner. But could you please tell us what name was on the check?”

Looking at the floor, she offered a barely audible, “Johnnie Wise.”

Johnnie looked at Mr. Saunders. “You see, sir. There’s no reason to see my check. Hank said a woman fitting my description would be here to buy clothes and shoes and a few other items. I have a check with the name of the person who was supposed to come here and according to you, I fit the description you were given. Come now, sir, you’re an intelligent man. Does it make sense to you that another Negress fitting the description you were given would somehow assume my identity, sir?”

“Actually it doesn’t, but—”

“Then, let’s do business, sir.”

“Absolutely! The customer’s always right! Right this way, Miss Wise. And just so there are no hard feelings about this little incident, I’ll give you my twenty-percent discount.”

“Are you offering me your personal discount in addition to the January sale discount?”

“I am. Again . . . the customer’s always right!”

“Thank you, sir,” she said and wrapped her arm around his. Then, she glared at Linda as they strolled down the aisle together. “I was wondering, Mr. Saunders,” Johnnie continued, knowing they were being heavily scrutinized by shocked white female eyes, “if you could tell me what kind of shoes I’ll need to work at Lucille’s. I’m going to be their new waitress for a while.”

“I’ll be happy to show you our fine selection of shoes, Miss Wise.”

“And Mr. Saunders, can you tell me where the bank is so I can open an account.”

“Certainly. Now, since you’re going to be on your feet for long periods of time, I’m going to suggest you buy the same shoes I see nurses buying. They’re right over here in our vast shoe department.”

Chapter 21

A New Lease on Life

I
t had been a long night in Ashland Estates, a longer drive away from New Orleans, and an even longer day in Jackson, given that Johnnie hadn’t had any sleep, and she’d had more bad luck in the last twenty-four hours than she thought she deserved. After a night fraught with bitter misery, the sweetness of hope was on the horizon, and she could almost taste its delicious fruit. Just when she thought the mighty thunderstorms of life were about to drown her in the depths of despair, the sun was now poking gaping holes in the clouds of desperation, and she felt invigorated. And because a new day was dawning, she was able to see the good in her bad, and she was already embracing her new beginning.

The glimmering light of hope began to shine when Hank and Lucille offered her a job. Finding her forgotten pot of gold when she thought she had lost everything, ushered in a confident expectation that put her at ease. Another reason for hope that her life would change for the better was the unanticipated generosity of Saunders. When she told him what had happened to her in New Orleans, he felt sorry for her and made sure she got everything she needed. A smile, a good attitude, and keeping her anger under control when she was clearly being singled out because she was a Negress were instrumental in getting his personal attention and the twenty-percent discount that was normally reserved for employees. Another unexpected benefit that overshadowed Linda Schumacher’s unfair behavior was that Saunders didn’t require quid pro quo for his philanthropic spirit; he made no unwanted advances.

Johnnie was accustomed to men seeking sexual favors for their “benevolence.” She found that school of thought particularly prevalent among the white men she had met in New Orleans and thought it must be true of all white men. While Saunders enjoyed her company, he was the antithesis of what she had come to know as standard operating procedure. He was never inappropriate with her even though she could tell he found her incredibly attractive. She kept expecting a proposition that never came. He was a happily married man, firmly rooted and grounded in his Christian beliefs.

She had spent a little under a hundred dollars, but due to the double discount she’d received, she had gotten over two hundred and fifty dollars worth of merchandise, all because she had heeded Brenda’s wise counsel. When she left Woolworth’s, she felt as if her feet were no longer touching the ground, as if she was walking on air. And even though the bank teller tried his best to steal her bubbly joy by acting as if he was doing her a favor by allowing her to open an account, she was unmoved by his attitude. His snide remarks found no home and simply bounced off her insult-proof exterior and went to that place where impotent words go once they’ve lost their power. She refused to let one man destroy what might one day prove to be the best day of her life.

She knew she would be staying at the Clementine for a while, and for the first time in her life, she would be alone and completely on her own. All the men she had come to depend on had been surgically removed, as it were. Finding her inheritance check at the last minute had been such a joy that she decided to splurge just a little by buying a bag of Brach’s orange slices candy and several Agatha Christie novels. Having been tried and ultimately acquitted of a homicide, she found the idea of murder mysteries oddly appealing.

Chapter 22

“
Hold your horses, Missy.”

W
hile Johnnie was innocent of the charges levied against her, she knew who had killed Sharon Trudeau all along. How a Negro had managed to kill Sharon in a well-known hotel chain full of white guests without being seen piqued her curiosity. She had never read a murder mystery before and Saunders had said that Agatha Christie was the best ever at writing them. Saunders was to some extent an expert on Christie’s books and her life. What intrigued Johnnie from the outset was Christie’s life story, which she believed paralleled hers just a teeny tiny bit.

She loved the fact that even a famous woman like Agatha Christie had hardships in her life. Archie Christie, Agatha’s first husband, left her for another woman around the same time her mother had died. Agatha then disappeared for three weeks. She had gone to a hotel to get away from her troubles, Saunders had assumed. One thing Johnnie loved about Christie was that she had never been to school. She believed Christie must have had a wonderful mother who took the time to educate her daughter at home with the help of a number of governesses.

Another thing Johnnie loved about Christie was that adversity didn’t deter her. It had taken five years to get her first novel published. She also admired the fact that Christie had studied music and could have been a concert pianist were it not for her nerves. More important than everything Saunders had told her about Christie, she loved that Christie was a wildly successful woman in a man’s world, and that was the main impetus for purchasing
And Then There Were None, Murder on the Orient Express,
and
The ABC Murders
. She had read the first page of
And Then There Were None
in Woolworth’s, and she was totally hooked. She then bought a brand new dictionary and a thesaurus, so she could continue building her vocabulary.

By the time she finished shopping, she had twelve bags full of merchandise from Woolworth’s. Saunders was gracious enough to allow her to leave her items in the store behind the counter until she returned to pick them up. After returning to the store, she called a cab to take her over to the Clementine Hotel. Even though she had seen a vacancy sign, she was nevertheless apprehensive because the Clementine wasn’t a Negro owned establishment, which meant that there was no guarantee she would be allowed to be one of its guests.

She pushed the door open, and she and her cab driver walked in. She had a bag in each hand, holding them by the straps. So did her cab driver, only he had four. While the cabby went back to retrieve the rest of her bags, Johnnie walked up to the counter where a white woman of more than forty years was sitting comfortably in a chair, reading a book. She looked for a sign that would indicate whether or not she would be allowed to stay there. She didn’t see a sign that specifically said the hotel didn’t allow Negroes. An unnoticeable sigh of relief escaped her lips. “The Adventures of Superman” was on the television even though the proprietor wasn’t watching.

The woman was so engrossed in her book that Johnnie assumed she didn’t hear her come in. She just kept turning the pages while Johnnie patiently waited. The cabby had come and gone several times, but Johnnie remained silent, thinking the woman would serve her when she finished the chapter that had obviously captivated her. As a reader, she knew what it was like to be deeply involved in a tale, to be in full escape mode, and then be interrupted by some fool who should have known better. She understood that when she was reading, unless somebody close to her had died or the house was on fire, she did not want to be disturbed. So, she respected the proprietor’s space. But the woman proceeded to the next chapter, which Johnnie could clearly see. Johnnie inhaled, remembering that she needed a place to stay, and she had to take what the woman was dishing out. She cleared her throat to get her attention.

Without looking up from the book, the woman said, “Hold your horses, Missy. I heard you come in. Patience is a virtue. I’ll get to you in just a minute.”

Chapter 23

“
You’re good . . . very good indeed.”

J
ohnnie watched the woman read several more pages of the book. She was trying to be patient, but she was quickly losing the battle, fully expecting the woman to give her a difficult time once she finished reading and realized that a Negress was seeking lodging for an undetermined amount of time. Normally, she would have prepared for the catfight, but this time she would have to be very humble because unlike the bank and Woolworth’s, money wouldn’t be enough of a reason for the woman to rent her a room. If money were reason enough, there would be no signs that let people of color know where the boundaries were.

The only color a store or a bank cared about was green. If she had that color, she could acquire whatever she wanted from either venue. In Mississippi, and in most of the southern states, a Negro could have all the gold in the world, but it couldn’t buy him the use of a bathroom, or a bed, or a seat at a restaurant counter if whites owned it. Those necessities were parceled out at the owner’s discretion. Johnnie understood that quintessential truth and kept her mouth shut because she was too tired to look for another hotel that might have a
No Coloreds Allowed
sign in the lobby. Besides all that, her cab driver had just pulled off. So, she waited. And she waited some more.