Friday and Saturday brought the most shoppers to the Bon Ton. In preparation, Louise worked on a mannequin wearing a lilac chiffon chemise, a bit of lace border around a scoop neck. A white hat, white shoes, and a white parasol with a thin dark green ribbon stripe completed the outfit. Simple jewelry—a slender silver bracelet, large silver squared earrings, and a deep aquamarine set in silver—looked wonderful on the mannequin’s finger; Louise had even painted her nails.

Finishing her last mannequin of the day, she stepped back to admire her creation.

Mrs. Rhodes left her counter for a moment to come stand behind her. Louise turned to ask if Delilah needed help.

Delilah looked Louise from head to toe, lifted her head, flounced off in indignation.

Louise watched her, raised her eyebrows, then moved the mannequin to the edge of her area. Back at her counter, she wrote out in fine script the prices of each item.

Sidney Yost came over. Realizing Louise’s retail gifts and how she pleased Mr. Grumbacher, Sidney aimed to be on the winning team.

He touched Louise’s elbow and cut his eyes to Delilah hovering over at the cosmetics counter, whispering something to Regina Eutaw, another employee, who looked at Louise then quickly averted her eyes.

Sidney, back at the cosmetics counter, missed the moment but he hadn’t missed much else. “Wheezie, Delilah is spreading malicious gossip about you. She’s blabbing to anyone she thinks will listen.”

“She’s making it up.”

Sidney smirked. “I’m sure. But she’s telling people that you spent the night with Paul at Immaculata Academy over the weekend, right under your benefactor’s nose. She told Dorcas, who told me.”

Dorcas ran the lingerie department.

“What!” Louise’s voice rose.

Sidney frowned. “She says that Yashew told Lottie.”

Mind working fast, Louise knew that Yashew would not do anything to harm her. She also knew that he probably told Lottie about the fire, the general exhaustion, and Lottie took it from there, embellishing the story of everyone sleeping at the academy to suit herself.

Both newspapers carried reports of the fire identifying the source of the fire as a probable lightning strike. Sunday morning, as the chapel still smoldered up front, Herbert had conducted both reporters through the damage, then handed each reporter an envelope for the advertising director, containing a six months’ advertising contract—a half page for Van Dusen Hauling. Naturally, he told the two men that, while the lightning strike could not be verified, nothing else indicated a source of conflagration. He also told them that if they drove back to Runnymede on the direct road they would probably find damaged trees, maybe even old buildings where the wind had flattened them or lightning had struck. The storm was dreadful.

If either reporter thought alcohol had been stored there or shipped from there, it did not appear in the final version of the report.

Louise watched as Delilah, head held high, briefly visited other clerks whom she felt might enjoy the implications of a night at Immaculata. Most all the clerks got along, but since Louise’s smash sales day, a current of envy ran through some of the ladies, especially those like Dorcas. She had worked behind the counter for decades, doing a decent job but devoid of all imagination, without a clue as to how to subtly push a product. Quite possibly, some might give Delilah an interested hearing.

“Sidney, people believe what they want to believe. We did all sleep there. The men in one room and we ladies scattered in others.”

Sidney always wanted to control the situation. “You can’t let her get away with it.”

“I can hardly bring Carlotta, Celeste, my mother down here to testify on my behalf.” She held out her finger with the cigar band on it. “And I am engaged.”

“Honey, that band will disintegrate in no time. No one will believe you’re engaged until you have a diamond engagement ring and it’s announced in the papers.”

“What?”

“People will take you for a fool being seduced by a smooth-talking, good-looking fellow.”

At that moment, Louise didn’t know whom she hated more, Sidney or Delilah.

Controlling herself, she smiled tightly at Sidney. “I appreciate your warning. This isn’t a warning, merely a notice: I think we’ll have another crowd on Saturday. If you ask Mr. Grumbacher if you might carry a sales book, just in case you are needed, he’ll be impressed.”

Sidney blinked. “Yes, yes, of course.”

Off he went to climb the stairs to ask permission to carry his own sales book. She observed, knowing full well he would present this as his own idea. Fine by her. She had bigger fish to fry, but first she had to catch them.

—

The late afternoon warmed as the sun shone without a cloud in the sky. Celeste, Fannie Jump, and Fairy sat outside, listening to the birds sing.

Fannie Jump launched into the tea cakes and sandwiches, proclaiming, “You know, Celeste, Fairy and I really must do more at our homes. You are always the hostess.”

“No husband to convince, less uproar.” Celeste leaned back in her chair. “If you count out Juts; she’s been alarmingly docile.”

“Really?” Fairy’s tone rose.

“She’s doing her lessons, helps around here, and spends time with Ev because Ev brings her lessons home from school. I hope she’s given up the idea of quitting.” Celeste poured herself more tea, the others stuck to cold drinks. “I’ve heard the Daughters of the Confederacy and the Sisters of Gettysburg are planning a special celebration at our Magna Carta Day. Something about the fifty-fifth anniversary of the end of the war.”

Fannie Jump, more relaxed now, boomed out, “They should have done that on April ninth.”

“Too cold, plus everyone shows on June fifteenth,” Fairy said.

“If they’d done anything last week, they’d have to realize the young don’t care,” Fannie growled.

“You’re right, but Minta Mae versus Caesura will make us care,” Celeste noted. “They’ll hijack our best day.” She paused. “I already have a date.”

“Do you?” Fairy remarked.

“Ben,” came the answer.

“More fun if you’re next to a handsome man on Magna Carta Day.” Fannie reached for another tea sandwich.

“I hope so.” Celeste held up her teacup as if in salute. “Touché.” Fannie held up her drink.

Fairy was on her high horse. “You two. Celeste, I don’t recall you engaging in innuendo even when we were at Smith.”

“Oh, Fairy. You were worried about Celeste when Ramelle so inconveniently found herself on the path to motherhood. She’s happy now.”

“Were you worried?” Celeste addressed Fairy.

“Worried is too strong a word but you did endure a jolt, Celeste. You keep things to yourself, but if Archie had become pregnant”—she used a strong word—“I would have either fainted or cast him into darkness.”

“No, you wouldn’t have, Precious.” Fannie Jump glowed. “You would have exhibited him with the traveling circus and further enriched yourself.” She drained her scotch. “I’d be thrilled if men could bear children. Knock some sense into them.”

“Has it knocked sense into us?” Celeste remarked. “No. All it’s done is create an unnatural state, chastity for the marriage market. Then, once married, you throw that to the winds and enjoy physical congress. Should you submit to powerful eroticism before marriage and find yourself in Ramelle’s state, you’re ruined.”

“Unless your parents have enough money to send you on a European tour.” Fannie poured another drink.

“What tour?” Fairy was puzzled.

“That’s just the point, Fairy. It’s a lie so the poor girl can go have her baby, give it up, and come home an intact virgin for the marriage market,” Fannie Jump said sarcastically.

“And given that a European tour is something most young women of means embark upon after college, it’s a good cover.”

“Ramelle, fortunately, was older and found a rich, good man. Plus she married him.” Celeste shrugged. “Fairy, thank you for thinking about me. Maybe on one level, I was relieved.” They both stared at her so she continued, “She wanted to be a mother. Now she will. I don’t want to be the source of anyone’s disappointment. I disappointed Mother enough.”

“Celeste, your mother loved you,” Fairy insisted. “When you returned from England, she was happy. She didn’t really want you to live in England. Yes, she did think you would marry well here, but she still loved you and you kept up appearances.”

“That she did. Let’s go back to this men getting pregnant thing.” Fannie warmed up. “Remember when we all read Pliny the Elder’s Natural History?”

“Yes.” Fairy finished her sweet tea, reached for the pitcher, poured more. “I thought it great fun.”

“Remember the people he described who live at the far reaches of the earth? There were the people with one big foot. On a hot day they’d flop down and use their foot for an umbrella.” Fannie Jump smiled. “Then there were the Blemmyae, whose faces were in their chests but in every other way they were perfectly human.”

Fairy nodded. “Of course, I remember.”

“And what about the Machyles?” Fannie Jump leaned toward Fairy.

“Yes, yes, the people who can assume either sex at will.” Fairy enjoyed remembering college sophomore Latin, at which she had excelled.

“Well, maybe men could get pregnant. Who knows if there’s truth in those stories but some of them have proven true when an archaeologist digs up something.” Fannie Jump folded her arms across her chest.

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful?” Celeste thought. “No human being could hide behind being male or female to excuse stupid or brutal or selfish behavior. We’d really have to own up to our sins.”

“Or enjoy them,” Fannie Jump roared.

“Oh, Fannie, I love Archie, but really, enjoy is too strong a word.” Fairy exhaled loudly through her nose.

“Listen, Fairy, if he knew what he was doing in bed, you’d be thrilled. Our husbands, decent men and good providers, do not have excitement for a middle name. I have this one life and by God, I am going to have excitement.” Fannie Jump slapped the table.

“Fannie, dear, don’t take another drink,” Fairy reprimanded her.

“She has a point.” Celeste smiled. “But so do you. We have this one life, this sliver between eternities. Perhaps rules are meant to be broken.”

Fairy folded her hands together. “I’d hate to be a man.”

“No one said you had to like it. I don’t think I’d care one way or the other so long as I could change into a woman whenever I felt like it. Which I would because I wouldn’t want to sleep with women,” Fannie declared.

“But if you were a man, perhaps you would.” Celeste stated the obvious, although not obvious to Fannie Jump.

Fairy entertained the thought. “Maybe.”

“Celeste, I never could understand why you put up with it. The time it takes to arouse a woman, convincing her you truly care, listening to the questions or just listening, period. I couldn’t do it. I haven’t the patience,” Fannie grumbled.

Celeste smiled. “You learn to have it. You and I can’t be the only women who can be direct. But it doesn’t matter. We are who we are. We are stuck with what we are and we might as well make the best of it.”

“Would you like to be a Machyle?” Fairy was honestly curious.

“I’d give it a try. Maybe we’re seeing the world with just one eye. Switch sexes at will and you apprehend all reality.”

“Maybe that’s the point of loving a man.” Fairy spoke with firmness. “You do have your other eye opened through his experiences and vice versa. Perhaps that truly is the point of dimorphism.”

Both Fannie and Celeste looked at her.

Before either could respond, the back door opened and closed.

“Mother!” Louise’s voice carried. “You won’t believe this!”

The three walked back into the house and, along with Cora, heard of Delilah’s gossip.

Fannie Jump curled her upper lip. “That woman lives in a state of perpetual inconsequence.”

“True.” Celeste smiled at Louise, then looked at her friends. “We need time to consider this, but it does appear that Big Dimps needs to come to Jesus.”

Celeste used the southern term that meant one will be severely corrected.