Momma beams under his praise. My mourning has an expiration date. As for Momma, she’s been mourning since I was a child. She has every mourning gown available. It was her status symbol. When you thought of Leonore Pleasonton, you immediately thought of her dedication to her deceased husband and now, her fallen son. She was on par with Queen Victoria.
Momma adjusts the black piping around her shirt cuff before she pats Livingston’s arm. “Bless your heart, dear boy. You’re too good to me.”
Depending on who you ask, “bless your heart” can either be said as an insult or with earnestness. Momma has always used it sincerely and detests when it’s used with derision.
“Dinner is ready to be served,” a servant announces from the doorway.
Livingston holds both arms out to escort Momma and me to the dining room. I take his arm and stare straight ahead.
“What is it you needed to speak with me about?” Livingston asks.
I look at him from the corner of my eye, trying not to show my shock. I’m not having this discussion in front of Momma. For her part, she remains silent, but I know she’s hanging onto every word. “Oh, I … um, I can’t remember.”
“It seemed urgent.”
“It must have slipped my mind. If I think of it, I’ll let you know.”
That earns a sharp look from Momma. To her, I had the perfect chance, and I didn’t take it.
“Please do,” Livingston replies as we approach the dining room.
Momma strategically places Livingston across from me, and herself beside him. I have empty seats next to me and can’t help but feel I’m on trial.
It would’ve been better if Momma had invited more people over. Then I could distract myself. With only Livingston here, I’m forced to see his face and engage in conversation the minute I look up.
Dinner is served, starting with okra soup, a Lowcountry staple. Afterward, there’s Charleston red rice with crushed bacon and bell peppers as the seasoning. Livingston compliments the food profusely. He assumes our cook of sixteen years, Tandey, made this meal. Little does he know she left this morning with her daughter for North Carolina. Her reason? “To be with family.”
I could unravel the true meaning of her words and so could Momma. Tandey wanted a job that paid. It didn’t matter how long she’s been with our family. Money is the driving force of this world.
In the end, Momma pulled one of the servants from her daily chores and had her work in the kitchen.
While the two of them politely converse, I listen closely, looking for any way I can sneak my way into the discussion so I can continue my talk with Livingston. I’d rather not have this conversation around Momma, but I can’t continue dinner like this anymore. I am an utter catastrophe right now. I can’t eat, I’m breaking out in a cold sweat, and my heart is beating so rapidly I’m convinced it’s going to break free from my chest.
I place my fork on my plate, and not for the first time does Livingston look in my direction. He knows I’m being almost reticent tonight. He knows I’m hiding something.
Once again, Momma interrupts me before I have a chance to speak. Does she time these moments? “Well, I do believe it’s time for me to relax in the sittin’ parlor.”
Instinctively, Livingston begins to stand at the same time she does.
Momma smiles. “No, no. You stay where you are. Escort Rainey and take your time. I’ll see the both of you soon.” With her hands linked in front of her, Momma strides out of the room.
My gaze narrows as I watch her walk away. Her abrupt departure from dinner was not a coincidence. She’s giving me another chance to speak with Livingston, and this time, I won’t let it go to waste. As her footsteps echo down the hall, Livingston slowly turns his gaze toward me. I shrug as though I’m also bewildered by Momma’s actions and take a bite of my food.
Livingston wads up his linen napkin, places it next to his empty plate, and leans back in his chair. “Your momma is in an interestin’ mood.”
“Is interestin’ the correct word?”
“How would you describe her mood?”
I mull over his question. “Unpredictable. She has her good days and her bad. Today is good.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. “And yesterday when your momma invited me over for dinner?”
“Must have been another good day.” I give him another shrug and smile serenely. “Lucky you.”
Livingston doesn’t reply. He watches me carefully. My hands are practically shaking from the weight of his gaze. It’s because I’m skittish about our impending conversation. That’s all.
I take another bite of my food and aggressively chew. I’ve barely swallowed before I’m pushing away from the table. “Lovely dinner and a stimulatin’ conversation, but we should keep Momma company, don’t you think?” I ask too brightly.
Livingston arches a dark brow but doesn’t challenge me. As we stroll through the doorway, I clear my throat and make sure to keep my tone light. “I’ve always felt we’ve had a … close bond.”
Livingston looks at me, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “Is that so?”
“Well, perhaps close is the wrong word. Unique?”
Livingston looks ahead, the smirk spreading into a devastating, all-knowing grin. “Rainey, I’m gonna make an educated guess that you want somethin’ from me?”
The snort that slips from me is instinctive and can’t be helped. If you’re bitten by a mosquito, do you not swat at it? For me, the same can be said for pompous males. It’s ingrained in me to turn my cheek to them. “I don’t want somethin’ from you.”
“No?” Livingston counters.
“I merely …” I look down at the floor, ignoring Livingston’s stare. “I need a favor from you.”
“That requires somethin’ from me.”
Swallowing my pride, I look at Livingston and find his eyes gleaming with unshed laughter. “Very well, I need somethin’ from you.”
“Very well, I’m listenin’.”
I stop in the middle of the hallway and pull away from him. I wait a few seconds. Is Momma going to take this opportunity to burst from the sitting parlor and interrupt us again? Thankfully, that doesn’t happen, so I blurt the words out that I’ve been meaning to say all night. “I’ve decided not to fight Miles’s will.”
Interesting enough, Livingston only appears mildly shocked by my admission. “Is that so?”
I nod. “I was upset when I first found out the news. I’ve processed the information, and perhaps it wouldn’t be … terrible if I had a husband.”
My Lord, just saying the word husband makes me cringe.
Livingston makes himself comfortable and leans against the wall, crossing one leg over the other. “And where do I come into this equation?”
“You come in because I know you want to be rid of this entire executor situation. The quicker I find a husband, the better.”
There it is. My false explanation in its entirety. I know Livingston is having a difficult time accepting my explanation because even I am. What I just said goes against my personality.
With my shoulders held back, I solemnly look Livingston in the eye while he watches me sharply.