Nate met her smile with one of his own. "What did he mean by that?"
"He was a runaway working on the San Francisco docks. My mother was the only daughter of one of the wealthiest men in California."
"I see what your father meant. Society says he wasn't even supposed to look at a woman of her class. How did they meet?"
"He was on the docks one evening when Mama and my grandparents were leaving a ship. He said at the time she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, slave or free. And he didn't let his station in life deter him. He wooed her and eventually married her. She gave up her inheritance to be his wife."
"Would you give up a fortune to be a wife?"
Vivid looked up into his eyes. "A fortune, possibly. My medicine, no."
He chuckled. "Lancaster, I hope I'm around to see you eat Coyote's black currants one day."
"Coyote's black currants?"
"It's an old Native tale about a young maiden who enjoys working so much, she refuses to marry any of the braves in the village. Coyote makes her fall in love with him by bringing her black currants. I'll tell you the rest some other time."
"So in other words, you wish to see me struck by Cupid's arrow?"
"Something like that, yes."
"Oh ye of little faith. Not every female is rendered mindless just because a man brings her flowers or writes her sonnets in which moon always rhymes with June. The women of today are looking toward the next century. There are issues to confront, a race to move forward, and we are not content to make a man's home our sole reason for being."
"Traveling life's road alone breeds loneliness. Believe me, I speak from experience."
It was not the rejoinder Vivid had expected. She sensed a depth in him she'd not felt before that moment. He was far more complex than she'd originally thought him to be, and whether or not she cared to admit it, she found him intriguing. Vivid shook herself out of her reverie. How on earth had she gotten on this track in the first place? She decided to change topics, as the course they had begun could only prove dangerous. "So I should hear from Vernon soon about his uncle's animal?"
"Yes."
Nate had no name for what had just passed between them, but something had changed. He was certain she'd felt it, too. He picked up his hat and started toward the door. "I'll be escorting you to the ladies' tea tomorrow."
Vivid was surprised. Why hadn't he mentioned that early on? She wondered. She also didn't think his escorting her was a good idea. She and Nate Grayson would undoubtedly end up disagreeing over something on the ride there, and she'd be angry and frustrated when she was introduced to the Quilt Ladies. And she'd hardly be able to charm them if she was angry and frustrated. "Mr. Grayson, I'm certain you are much too busy to spend an afternoon having tea, so if there's a buggy and a map I may borrow, I'm certain I can get there on my own."
"They requested my presence, also."
"Oh."
Hat in hand, his big body filling her doorway, he gazed over at her and said, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to avoid my company, Lancaster."
"Truthfully, I am."
"Why?"
"Because when we are together we argue, and I don't wish to meet these Quilt Ladies while I'm in a snit."
"I hadn't thought of that," he said. "Well, if you promise to be on your best behavior and not provoke me, I believe we'll do fine."
"Me?" she croaked.
"Yes, you."
"Mr. Grayson—"
"Good night, Lancaster." He tipped his hat politely and stepped back out into the night. She swore she heard him laughing as the wagon rolled away.
The next morning Nate had already left for town and Magic for school by the time Vivid went over to the Graysons for breakfast. She found Miss Edna seated at the big dining table and they shared a few pleasant moments of conversation while Vivid devoured a plate of stacked oatcakes swimming in maple syrup. Afterward the women talked about the Quilt Ladies.
"They're a nest of hypocrites masquerading as Southern belles," Abigail stated frankly.
"Gail," Miss Edna said warningly. "Now, you promised not to influence the doctor. She has to form her own opinions."
"Ed, Viveca is not blind. She's going to see them for what they are—a bunch of busybodies who think they're saints."
Viveca interrupted. "Your nephew led me to believe these women had a strong influence here in the Grove."
"Oh, they do if you happen to be the one they're hissing at in church, or the person they're spreading gossip about. They know how to make your life miserable. That's the type of influence they wield."
"They do good works, too, Abigail."
"Sometimes," Abigail admitted grudgingly.
“Why are they called Quilt Ladies?'' Vivid asked.
Miss Edna answered, "They've been making the best-looking quilts this side of the state for two decades."
Abigail nodded. "Now that I agree with. They can wield their needles."
Vivid smiled. "Do either of you have any suggestions as to how I should go about making a good impression?"
"Bloodlines," Miss Edna stated over her coffee cup.
"Bloodlines?" Vivid repeated.
"Bloodlines," Abigail said in agreement. "Caroline Ross heads their little group, and she mistakenly believes that the miscegenation in her ancestry makes her somehow better than the rest of us."
"Caroline can be quite obnoxious at times," Edna admitted. “Viveca, Abigail says your people have Spanish blood?"
"Yes."
"Well, make sure you share that information during the interrogation this afternoon. Once Caroline learns of your ancestry, you'll have no problem gaining her approval and support."
Vivid wanted to gain their support because of what she stood for, not for who her ancestors had been. “Are you certain it's the only way?"
"Do you want their approval, or do you want them hissing at you in church?"
"Their approval."
"Then play up your bloodlines."
After breakfast, Vivid returned to her cabin and spent an inordinate amount of time trying to decide what to wear. She didn't want to appear too prosperous, nor did she want to appear poverty-stricken. In the end, she decided on a very tasteful white lawn blouse, an emerald skirt with a thin line of black velvet piping at the bottom, and a matching jacket. She'd already pulled her thick black hair into a chignon and wore her grandmother's small emerald stud earrings.
She peered critically at herself in the glass hanging near her small cot and wondered if she'd pass inspection. A knock at her door startled her. It was Nate Grayson.
Nate watched her disappear into the bedroom and return a few heartbeats later wearing a hat similar to the one drenched in the rain. It was also emerald, but piped in black. She was a stunning woman.
"You're staring, Mr. Grayson," Vivid said, pulling on her gloves. "Is my appearance that unacceptable?" She wondered if she had time to change clothes.
He cleared his throat. "No. You look fine."
"That's relieving. You had me concerned. Are we ready?"
He nodded and let her precede him out the door.
On the ride, they kept the conversation on simple topics such as the sunny May weather and the landscape. Neither wanted to be the cause of any altercation.
Finally, Nate halted outside a fence surrounding a very large house set back from the road. Vivid stepped down and nervously patted her hat. She checked to make certain her skirt hadn't become overly wrinkled on the ride, then adjusted the sleeves of her jacket. When she glanced at Nate, she saw him watching her with that same amused look he'd worn last evening. "Is something wrong?" she asked.
"Nope. Just watching you."
"And?"
"You're nervous."
"I want to make a good impression," she confessed.
"Nothing wrong with that."
Their eyes held for a moment before Vivid said, "Shall we go in?"
"Probably. Caroline has been standing behind the curta
ins since we drove up."
Vivid's eyes widened. "Why didn't you say so?" she said as she hurried up the walk.
Nate smiled and slowly followed in her wake.
"Please come into the parlor, we're all anxious to meet you," invited Caroline Ross. The beautiful older woman met them at the door dressed as if she were hostessing a Southern ball instead of an afternoon tea. Vivid couldn't remember the last time she'd seen anyone wear hoops in her skirt, but the woman moved as if she'd worn the swaying weight all her life.
A glance around the sun-filled room revealed crocheted doilies, lace curtains, and four ivory-skinned women who appeared to be the same age as Caroline. They were seated around the parlor with a regal air about them reminiscent of her Spanish aunts. Vivid nodded to each of the women as Caroline named them in turn: Brenna, who stared at Vivid with distant, violet eyes; Effie, who wore a faded yellow prewar hooped dress and had fixed her graying hair in elaborate ringlets; Felicity, whose disdainful glance made Vivid feel like a servant; and Poppy, who met Vivid's eyes with a smile. Vivid wondered if they all lived here together.
"Thank you for escorting her, Nathaniel," Caroline said brightly. "Please be seated."
Vivid sat on one of the elegant but old embroidered-back chairs. She sat with all the poise of a queen, her back erect, her chin raised. The ladies would find no cracks in her manners.
Nate sat in a large, overstuffed chair on the opposite side of the room postponed far away enough for him to maintain his neutrality but close enough so that he could watch the show.
"Ladies, I see the service is set out. May I pour?" Vivid said.
The ladies looked at one another, and Caroline, obviously the voice of the group, replied, "Why, most certainly."
Vivid knew how to pour tea. She and her sisters had begun serving tea as soon as they were able to heft the pot and pour safely. She remembered many afternoons when she poured tea for her mother and the older female relatives to show that she could do the job properly. Slopping tea on one of the Spanish aunts or, Lord forbid, one of the guests, meant polishing silver for a week as penance. Back then, Vivid looked upon this task as just another one of those tedious chores her mother insisted she and her sisters learn. She'd had no idea it would be a talent she'd one day need to help sell herself as a doctor.
Vivid lifted the ornate silver tray holding the filled cups and served everyone, then she took her seat. All the women seemed impressed.
"Where did you learn to pour so elegantly, my dear?" Caroline asked.
"From my abuela in Mexico."
"Your a-buela?"
"It's Spanish for grandmother."
"I see," Caroline replied, staring at Vivid strangely. "Your people are Spanish?"
"Mama's side of the family came over with the conquistadors. Papa's came in the hull of a slaver."
Caroline appeared to be speechless for a moment.
Vivid politely raised her cup and sipped daintily.
Poppy laughed. "Well, Caroline, now that she's established herself as having the best bloodlines in town, do you have another question?"
The violet-eyed Brenna gave Poppy a withering look and said, "Poppy, if you are not going to take this seriously, I suggest you leave."
Poppy turned and replied, "My dear Brenna, must I remind you again under whose roof you are living?"
Brenna's vellum face reddened and she looked away, evidently not in need of a reminder. Vivid was fascinated by the exchange.
"Do you plan on treating men, Dr. Lancaster?"
"I have been trained to heal both, so yes," Vivid replied in answer to Felicity's question.
"You're aware the idea is considered unseemly in most places?" Effie pointed out.
"Yes, ma'am, I am aware of that. However, I can hardly be a true physician if I'm allowed to administer to only half the population."
To her surprise, Effie nodded her head as if agreeing.
Vivid spent the next hour answering questions from Caroline and the others concerning everything from her educational background, to her family, to her charity work. Vivid had done charity work in San Francisco, and also during and after her medical training in Philadelphia. This started a discussion of the tradition of Black women helping the less fortunate members of the race. As early as 1793 the Female Benevolent Society of St. Thomas, organized by free Black women in Philadelphia, aided fatherless children and widows. In 1809 the free Black women of Newport, Rhode Island, came together as the African Female Benevolent Society. In 1821 the Daughters of Africa, whose members were the washerwomen and domestics of Philadelphia, combined their extra pennies and paid out sick and death benefits for those in the community. In 1840 New York City had the second largest Black population in the segregated free North, but by 1827, the Black women had already seen a need and formed the African Dorcas Association. They met weekly in sewing meetings to provide clothing for the needy children in the city's Free African Schools. Even in the slave city of Washington D.C., in 1828, free Black women took it upon themselves to help their own under the auspices of the Coloured Female Roman Catholic Benefit Society.
The Black women in Vivid's part of the country were also actively involved in helping others. Vivid, in addition to relating to the ladies her own experiences in the charity wards of San Francisco and Philadelphia, also told them of Biddie Mason. Mrs. Mason, a former slave, had become one of California's largest landowners. Her generous purse helped establish schools, churches, and homes for the aged and infirm.
The conversation then turned to other topics and Vivid gave the ladies her opinions on women and work, and her stance on women and the vote.
Afterward they requested she play them something on the gleaming piano on the far side of the parlor. Vivid hadn't played in many years, and that became quite evident once she began. However, she finished before anyone could go running from the room so she considered the impromptu recital a success.
Vivid retook her seat, purposely avoiding Nate Grayson's eyes.
"Well, Doctor," Caroline said. "I know I speak for everyone when I say we find you most impressive. Having you in our community will be a true coup. We have one request before we bestow our blessings."
"And that is?"
"In order to protect your reputation, would you be agreeable to having a male present in your establishment when you're with male patients?
Vivid was nonplussed; she'd never considered such an arrangement. "Do you feel that is necessary?"
"I do believe that would allay any gossip, especially during your initial stay here. Gossip can truly ruin a woman such as yourself. Wouldn't you agree, ladies?"
The ladies all nodded in agreement.
Vivid did not need a man to guard her reputation, she had a rifle for that, but she forced herself to remember where she was. Grayson Grove was neither San Francisco nor Philadelphia. Grayson Grove was a small, backwoods town in Michigan, These women considered themselves keepers of the town's morals, and she had to live by their rules if she wanted to live here peacefully.
But a man in her office?
"What about Nathaniel?" Poppy asked.
Vivid's eyes widened.
Nate sat up straight in his chair when he heard his name.
"Poppy, that is a splendid idea," Caroline replied enthusiastically. "No one would dare make unseemly remarks or exhibit ungallant behavior in his presence."
They all began to chatter back and forth like excited hens. Vivid held up her hands. “Excuse me, please. Am I to understand that you are recommending Nate Grayson as my chaperone?"
Nate considered slipping out of the room before anyone noticed, but he knew they'd find him. He had absolutely no intention of playing nursemaid to the doctor, but lately his intentions hadn't much mattered. First Abigail and her damned contract, and now this. Arguing that he was too busy or had commitments elsewhere would not be a deterrent to them; once the Quilt Ladies took something by the bit you had to join them or be run down.
But he had to try. "Ladie
s, you know how busy the Grove keeps me. I doubt I will have—''
“Nathaniel Grayson, are you saying you are too busy to be concerned about this young woman's reputation?" Caroline asked.
"No, Caroline, that's not what I'm saying. I—"
"Good," said Poppy. "We knew you'd agree."
Vivid hadn't agreed, however. "I still don't believe all this is necessary."
"Dear, a woman without a reputation is no woman at all," Caroline pointed out sternly.
Vivid felt as if she'd been chastised by one of her great aunts. "But—"
"So are we all agreed?" Caroline asked.
They were.
Vivid sighed in surrender.
"Welcome to Grayson Grove, Dr. Lancaster."
On the ride home, Nate swore he could feel the steam wafting off her small body. He didn't think she could get any angrier than she'd been when she shot his hat off, but apparently he'd been wrong. She'd gone absolutely stone-still when the ladies suggested installing a man in her office. Her face registered shock, then surprise, then outrage in less than a blink. At the time, he'd almost laughed but thought better of it once she showed him the fire in her eyes. After all, she'd already taken a rifle to him once that week; he didn't want to find out the shot through his hat had been one of luck and not skill.
"You stepped into a real bear trap back there, Lancaster."
"I'm not speaking to you," she said.
He couldn't mask his humor. "No?" he asked, peering over at her and that saucy little hat.
"No," she repeated.
"May I ask why?"
"Because this is all your fault. If you had stood up to them, we wouldn't be in this ridiculous situation."
"I tried. You heard me."
"I heard you surrendering. I do not need a man in my office to protect my honor."
He glanced over at her angry face. "Do you want to shoot me?"
"The thought had crossed my mind. Maybe later."
He shook his head again. Lord, what a woman. He'd almost felt sorry for her back there. He knew how controlling Caroline could be and Lancaster hadn't known she'd stepped into a trap until the jaws snapped shut. She'd been a lamb among wolves.