The Governor's Sons (39 page)

“I won the grand prize in the wife lottery.”
 
Ash smiled.
 
“You’ll never believe this—but Charlene actually wanted to be a spy before I married her.
 
She’s real good at sizing people up and figuring out puzzles.
 
I’m not bad at that, but she seems to have a sixth sense almost—lets me know who I can or can’t trust, and she’s usually right.
 
I call her my top political advisor.
 
Of course, with her intuition, it’s hard for me to hide anything from her.”
 
Ash laughed.

“How long have you been married, sir?”

“Twenty-sex years.
 
And it’s flown by.
 
The first time I saw Charlene, she looked like a goddess.”
 
Ash grinned.
 
“I’ve never been afraid of anything in my life—anything except where Charlene’s concerned.
 
I was afraid to approach her because I thought she’d reject me.
 
I was afraid to ask her father for her hand in marriage because I thought he’d say no.
 
And I’m afraid of losing her.
 
Someone can be here one day, and then gone the next.
 
I don’t dwell on that, though.
  
I know we’ve got a lot of good years ahead.
 
But my point is, you find the right woman—you don’t start acting like yourself.”

“I suppose I’ll know the right woman when I see her.”
 
Harland smiled.
 
“I’ll just look for a goddess.”

“She doesn’t have to be a goddess, but you’ll know her when she comes along.
 
Then you’ll have to marry her because you can’t live without her.
 
Then kids come along and you wonder why you got married at all.”
 
Ash winked.
 
“But I’m proud of
all
my kids.
 
The two girls are pretty and smart, just like their mother. My oldest is JoBeth.
 
She’s in medical school.
 
This summer she’s working at the State Morgue.”

“Whoa!” Harland said.
 
“Is that some sort of punishment?”

“No.” Ash shrugged his shoulders.
 
“She wants to be a coroner one day.”

“Impressive.”

“Leigh Ann’s the middle child.
 
She graduates next year, then wants to go to law school.
 
I got her a summer job at the State Law Library.”

“Is she bored with that?”

“Doesn’t matter; I put her there in hopes of finding some nice young lawyer to marry.
 
Leigh Ann’s got too much fire in her.
 
She needs a good man to calm her down, a strong man.
 
I wish I could put some of Leigh Ann’s fire into Gavin.
 
He’s my youngest—and not a finer athlete exists as far as I’m concerned,” Ash said.
 
“Smart as the daylights, but he doesn’t apply himself.
 
I told him this is the last summer he can goof off as a lifeguard.
 
Next year he’ll have to get what I consider a real job, but it’d help if he could decide what he wants to do.
 
Marches to the beat of a different drummer, but he’s a good kid.”

“Well,” Harland said, “I’m looking forward to meeting them.
 
But I do need to know something, sir.
 
Does your wife harbor any ill feelings toward me regarding Miss Willis’s accusations?”

Ash clasped his hands again.
 
“I—uh think she’s past that.”

****

While Celesta Simmons stood in the basement kitchen of the Governor’s Mansion, she checked her reflection in a glass cabinet door.
 
She wasn’t concerned about being cute, she was fifty and married.
 
But she wanted to look her best for the task at hand.
 
Her white cap fit snugly over her short hair.
 
She patted her curls to make sure not a hair was out of place, and then smoothed her black uniform over her buxom frame.
 
After the chef had arranged a beautiful tray of cheese and crackers, Celesta eagerly grabbed it, almost shoving the man out of the way before he had a chance to put on the last cluster of grapes for garnish.

A bullish looking woman, whose sweet smile disguised her bullish nature, Celesta had been employed as a maid by the Governor’s Mansion for over 30 years.
 
Out of all the governors she’d worked for, Governor Kroth was the nicest, by far.
 
Even though Mrs. Kroth affectionately referred to her husband as a know-it-all—that was all right, because he was.
 
So was Celesta.
 
It took one know-it-all to understand another.

Celesta had the utmost respect for the Governor, and he respected her as well.
 
When he’d first moved in five years ago, he’d even asked her to be an extra set of eyes and ears to help keep his children under control.

Although Celesta was a Negro servant, paid to be invisible, the Governor had promised to introduce her to Harland Hall.
 
From the basement, Celesta walked up the backstairs to the second floor.

When she reached the drawing room, there sat Mr. Hall, just handsome as he could be. Celesta carried in the tray.
 
While the Governor and Mr. Hall chatted, Celesta gently placed the platter on the table in front of them.
 
The Governor was always polite and said a quiet thank you; Mr. Hall smiled and nodded to her.

Well, Celesta wouldn’t leave without the proper introduction she’d been promised.
 
She wasn’t about to disappear without a sound. So she stood still, hovering close to Mr. Hall, and then cleared her throat.

The Governor looked a little surprised at first, but then smiled and stood up.
 
“Mr. Hall,” Harland stood also, “I’d like you to meet Mrs. Celesta Simmons.
 
I promised I’d introduce you.

Celesta smiled her biggest, sweetest smile as Mr. Hall said, “I’m certainly pleased to meet you, Mrs. Simmons.”

“Oh, sir,” Celesta beamed, “the pleasure is all mine.”
 
She heartily shook his hand.

“Mrs. Simmons has been instrumental in helping keep my kids in line.” The Governor smiled.

“And the governor’s children are some right fine young people, indeed.” Celesta said.

“I’m sure they are, ma’am.”
 
Mr. Hall said.

“Now, Celesta,” the Governor began, “I’d like to continue talking to Mr. Hall—alone.”

“Why, yes, sir.”
 
Celesta wasn’t ready to leave.
 
“Mr. Hall, my brother owns a shoe repair shop in the Negro business area.
 
He says there’s a building on Burkette Street that has some mighty nice office space available.”

“Why thank you, Mrs. Simmons.
 
I’ll be sure to check into that.”

“Celesta,” the Governor’s tone was firmer now, although he wore a charming smile, not too different from Harland Hall’s.
 
“I’d like for Mr. Hall and I to be alone
right now
, if you don’t mind.”

“Why yes, sir.
 
And it was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hall.
 
I have a daughter who’s a school teacher.”
 
Celesta began walking backwards to the door.
 
“Once you’re settled here in town, I’ll introduce you to her.
 
She’s pretty.”

“I’ll look forward to that,” Harland replied kindly.

“Well,” Celesta smiled, “good afternoon.” She turned to leave the room.

“Good afternoon,”
 
Harland said.

When she reached the doorway, Governor Kroth called to her.
 
“Celesta, would you please close those pocket doors on your way out?”

“Why yes, sir.”
 
As she slid the doors together, she knew exactly what the governor was thinking.
 
That she was a know-it-all busy body.
 
He’d fondly told her that on several occasions, but she didn’t mind, because it was true.
 
She did her best not to miss a thing with the children—or the adults.

****

Seated at dinner in the dining room, Charlene could hardly eat a thing.
 
She had a lot to tell Ash.
 
She even wanted to let him know that she agreed with his suspicions now.
 
She’d wanted to throw her arms around him and cry on his shoulder, but all of that would have to wait.
 
Charlene would have to keep everything bottled up inside, be a good political wife, and wear the gracious face of a hostess.
 
She felt like she was about to suffocate.

After talking to Libby, Charlene was convinced Mr. Hall had nothing to do with Otis’s murder.
 
But that didn’t mean she had to like him, even though he was now in her dining room eating dinner with her family.
 
He sat next to Gavin near the opposite end of the table.
 
Apparently, Gavin had no appetite, either.
 
Charlene observed him pushing food around his plate instead of eating.

“Mrs. Kroth,” Hall said.
 
She glanced at the Negro with a small tight smile.
 
“Everything is delicious.”

She replied with a stiff thank you.
 
The meal had begun with tossed salad and vichyssoise.
 
They now ate a main course of chicken cordon bleu with white rice.
 
Chocolate mousse would be served for dessert.

Mr. Hall then turned back to Ash, seated to his right at the head of the table, to continue their conversation about Malcolm X, a very scary man, in Charlene’s opinion.
 
She hated to admit it, but she was almost glad he was dead.
 
At least his recent assassination couldn’t be blamed on whites.

“What some people don’t realize,” Mr. Hall said authoritatively, “was that after his pilgrimage to Mecca, Malcolm X disavowed racism of any kind.”

“But nobody paid any attention to that because of all that preaching he did about black supremacy and violence to bring an end to the race problem—‘by any means necessary’ and all that,” Ash responded.

Though the subject of Malcolm X was a rather volatile topic, Ash and Mr. Hall appeared to enjoy their discussion, as did Leigh Ann who chimed in, “I saw him make a speech once in New York.
 
And no matter what anyone says, he was one of the most eloquent speakers I’ve ever heard.
 
And in my opinion,” she gazed dreamily across the table at Mr. Hall, “Malcolm X will go down in history as one of the greatest and most influential Negroes of all time.”

Charlene inhaled deeply, then let out a long--repressed sigh. “I think he was a rather twisted individual, myself.”
 
She took a sip of water.
 
No one responded immediately. Ash shot her an icy glare.
 
But then, Mr. Hall laughed, as did Ash, as though given permission.
 
Leigh Ann smiled.
 
However, a sneer curled Gavin’s lips.
 
He looked angry.
 
Probably as angry as his mother felt, watching Mr. Hall wield the power at her dinner table.

“That’s understandable, Mrs. Kroth,” Harland Hall said kindly.
 
“It’s hard for some to forget his earlier stance on race.”

Charlene saw Gavin roll his eyes.
 
“I don’t deny he had a brilliant mind.” She forced a smile.
 
“But perhaps he could’ve emphasized self improvement among Negroes and not all that rhetoric to—”

“Mrs. Kroth,” Harland interrupted, “lots of people feel that way, but that’s not the real problem with racism in the United States.
 
There’s an excellent book I’d like to recommend that provides an analysis of race in America better than anything I’ve ever read.
 
It’s called
Crisis in Black and White.
”

“Oh, Mr. Hall,” Leigh Ann gushed.
 
“I read that.
 
It’s a--powerful historical analysis—and it shows that to really change the status of the Negro, there have to be a lot of deeper changes within the fabric of America, itself.”

Mr. Hall flashed a charming smile at Leigh Ann.
 
“That’s right young lady, and anyone who’s truly interested in making a difference between the races,” Hall paused, glancing at Charlene, then moved his gaze to JoBeth, “should consider reading it.”

JoBeth sat next to her sister, opposite Mr. Hall.
 
Charlene clenched a tight fist in her lap.
 
Was that the hint of a blush she’d just detected in JoBeth’s cheeks?
 

Charlene held nothing against Mr. Hall, personally.
 
She’d actually never eaten at the same table with a Negro.
 
Not that this was a problem.
 
But there
was
a problem, a very
big
problem.
 
It wasn’t the arrogant swagger she’d first noticed upon meeting him.
 
Heaven knows, Charlene thought, Ash wrote the book on arrogance, as well as one on knowing everything, another trait exhibited by the illustrious Mr. Hall.
 
It wasn’t his boldness, or even the way he so openly expressed himself—for a Negro.
 
It
was
the effect he had on her daughters.
 
Though silent, JoBeth, like Leigh Ann, sat mesmerized by Hall’s presence, hanging on his every word.