They walked out to the Avenue.
“Really, Sitwell,” Jennie said. “I am sorry I was rude to you last night. Felt bad about it as soon as you left. This is all new to me and I don’t really know how you people think, I mean the kind of people who don’t go to The Creole Show. . . . Just trying to be smart. Not so much for my sake, you understand. But my child.”
“What’s your daughter’s name?”
“Cutie Pie. Cutie Pie Williams.” Jennie smiled. She paused for a moment, as if expecting him to recognize the name, then seemed to remember whom she was talking to.
“We used to have an act together. The Dancing Darling Williams Sisters. But she’s getting too big to play the Pick and I don’t think I want her playing anything else.”
“That why you quit the stage?”
She nodded. “Tired of touring. It’s dangerous out there. Believe me, I had a hard enough time trying to keep myself out of trouble. Anyhow, I want her to go to a proper school.”
“And the girl’s father?”
“What do you mean?”
“Is he a performer too? Or somebody you knew before?”
“Ain’t no before, Sitwell,” Jennie said. “I don’t mind talking about myself. I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve done. But as far as I’m concerned life started when I was fifteen and Cutie Pie was three, when the two of us hit the road and took to the stage. We’ll just have to leave it at that.”
They climbed aboard the omnibus and got off again near the Water Street Market, a noisy crowded space made up of over one hundred fifty stalls. Mr. Sitwell led Jennie to a large busy stall where, behind a low counter, a thin man’s hands were moving fast as he stuffed a bag with beets.
“See this man? He’s from Louisiana. Mamie ever give you a list like this again, especially if you know the Barclays are entertaining Southerners, just show it to him, he’ll help you out. Matter of fact, anybody here would be willing to help you, Jennie. Just so long as you let them know you work for the Barclays. The Barclays throw an awful lot of parties and don’t nobody out here want to lose their business. It’s what will keep them from trying to cheat you too.”
“I will remember that.” She looked around then pointed to another stall. “Looks like you can get the same cheaper over there.”
“Taste cheaper too.” He sniffed. “Go ahead and pay the man.”
After they’d purchased vegetables they went to the butcher for meat. When they were finished, they only had about two thirds of what Mamie had written down on her list, but there were only a few coins left.
“Now what?”
Mr. Sitwell nodded. This was the part that needed explaining.
“You want to get in good with Miss Mamie? I’m about to show you how.”
He took her to the fields, a large green hill located on the back end of the fairgrounds. During construction for the Exposition, the land had been cleared and transportation tunnels dug beneath it to bring in building materials. Once the fairgrounds were complete the area had been reimagined as a public park. They put in grass, planted trees, and built a fence around it. But the area had not been maintained due to funding issues and had long since been taken over by tramps.
As he led Jennie through it, Mr. Sitwell explained, “I’d say a fourth of what she’s got on this list you can find growing wild if you know where to look. Especially the herbs. You want to make a good impression on Miss Mamie? You’ve got to figure out what’s worth paying for and what you can get for free.”
He looked around.
“Over there is the asparagus. And that there is mustard greens. I’m not entirely sure Mr. Barclay realizes it, but he and his wife eat an awful lot of greens. Mamie just sautés it, covers it with seasoned manioc flour. Sometimes she uses it as a garnish for bean soup.”
Jennie shook her head. “I don’t understand. How do the Barclays expect her to make dinner if she doesn’t have the money to buy what she needs?”
“It’s stupid, isn’t it? The Barclays don’t understand what Mamie does in that kitchen. They just eat. They’ll tell her to go ahead and make a substitution then complain when it doesn’t taste right. But they’re not the ones who are going to be sent packing if one of their dinner parties doesn’t go well. And I’ll tell you something else people like to pretend they don’t understand. In that house, the color of the staff will always match the color of the cook. That means if Miss Mamie goes, most likely we all going with her. That’s why she’s got to always be thinking. For all our sakes. Understand?”
“I do,” Jennie said.
To his great relief, he believed her.
“The last thing I want to do is let Mamie down. But I’ve got to be honest. I don’t know much about herbs and vegetables.”
“I don’t mind teaching you, if you’re willing to learn.”
He pointed to a bush heavy with red berries. “In a couple days I’ll come back for these. They make an excellent jelly, believe it or not. But you’ve got to be careful not to confuse them for their cousins—they’re very poisonous, which is why folks sleeping out here know to leave them alone. I’ll teach you how to tell the difference. Got to look to the leaf. See how they’re different? When you see that, don’t get near the berries on that bush. The leaves can be made into a powerful soporific, if you need one. But really the whole bush is just too dangerous to mess with if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“You speak from experience?”
“I’ve had cause to serve it once or twice.”
“To Barclay’s guests?”
“No. I got a before too, Jennie. Don’t forget that. These leaves are a part of how I got here. I was in New Orleans at the time and needed a way up the Mississippi. Wound up feeding ’em to a ship captain who was not particularly amenable to providing me with passage on his boat.”
Jennie squinted. “How old were you then?”
“Twelve.”
“Well, you must have been a very clever child to have managed that on your own.”
“I imagine you must have been pretty clever yourself.” Mr. Sitwell smiled. “None of that matters now, does it, Jennie? It’s past. A long time ago. And far, far from here.”
It certainly seemed so as the two of them walked out of the fields and back onto the crowded avenue. They got on the streetcar and rode back up the city’s south side. This time when Mr. Sitwell sat next to Jennie he found it easy to talk. She seemed interested in the things he said and that made him feel funny and clever. Everything went so smoothly between them that the turmoil and distance he’d felt the night before seemed to evaporate every time she smiled. In all respects it felt like a new day.
Mr. Sitwell was in a good mood when they pushed through the back door. When they entered the kitchen Mamie was sitting on a stool near the main worktable, Mrs. Lawson standing behind her, braiding her hair.
“What took you so long?”
“Got a little held up at the market,” Jennie set the bags on the table. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again. Mr. Sitwell was helping me out.”
Mrs. Lawson sucked her teeth. “Girl, what’s he got to help you out with? He’s the groundskeeper, remember? You oughtta be telling him what to do.”