X dabbed his mouth with a napkin. He may have been fat, but he was dainty.“Doesn’t make sense.”
“It will. Once all the pieces are in place there’s something inevitable about the puzzle.” Ben knew talking business was part of his job, just as being a doctor meant you heard everyone’s symptoms. He noticed Walter Lungrun getting an earful from neighbor Alice Ramy.
As Sister swept by one of the end tables she noticed a small bespectacled figure walking toward the tents. A woman, perhaps in her early fifties, her hair pulled back in a severe bun, eyes searching, came toward Sister as Sister extended her hand.
“Hello, I’m Jane Arnold, welcome.”
In a faltering voice, the lady held out her small hand.“I’m Professor Frances Kennedy from Brown University. Is Mrs. Norton here?”
“She is. Let me take you to her, but please make sure you get something to eat. Can I get you a drink?” Sister also noticed that she wore beautifully made monkey’s fist gold earrings and one simple old ring, oval, with a black onyx stone, a crest engraved thereon.
“No, thank you,” Professor Kennedy respectfully declined.
Sister noted, making her way through the people, that Professor Kennedy was frail, not just thin. She wore a pleated skirt in the Kennedy tartan, a crisp white blouse, a Celtic brooch on her left shoulder. Her features were Caucasian, although she was African American, which made Sister wonder if her people weren’t originally Ethiopian, as they so often have sharp features.
People’s ancestry fascinated Sister, but that could be said of most Virginians, who, try as they might to avoid it, find that chickens come home to roost in middle age. By that time you look like your people. Blood tells.
“Charlotte, this is Professor Frances Kennedy. Professor Kennedy, this is Mrs. Charlotte Norton, headmistress of Custis Hall.”
The look on Charlotte’s face, welcoming but questioning, left Sister to wonder just what was going on. Then she noticed that Pamela Rene beat a hasty retreat to the smorgasbord.
Charlotte made the student next to her give her seat to Professor Kennedy and she sent Valentina for a plate of food and Tootie for a drink once she extracted what libation the quiet-spoken lady preferred.
“I’m here to examine your artifacts.” Professor Kennedy smiled shyly as she gratefully sipped iced tea, a sprig of mint floating on top.
C H A P T E R 1 4
Face flushed even to the roots of his wavy silver hair, Bill Wheatley sputtered,“I demand to know who is spreading filth and calumnies about me!”
“Bill,” Charlotte’s voice remained calm, “I can understand your being upset, but no one is spreading filth. This came as an observation from students and I took the precaution of calling former students. No one has accused you of improper conduct or sexual harassment.”
“Well, they’re calling me a Peeping Tom!”
“Now, Bill, what the girls have said is that you often walk in and out of their costume fittings and changes. Peeping Tom hasn’t escaped anyone’s lips. Just try to remain calm and explain this, uh, habit to me.”
“I’m head of the theater department for Christ’s sake, Charlotte. I oversee all the plays, every aspect of production. And you know, costume design was where I made my name before marriage and three children forced me to think about job security.”
“I appreciate that. You need to fit and refit costumes. And I repeat, no one has implied that you have touched them or said anything inappropriate. It’s just that you seem to pop in when they are in, shall we say, states of undress.”
“I don’t care. I don’t even notice!” He lied a little.
“Now, Bill, you don’t expect me to believe that, do you? I’m a woman. Even I’d notice.”
He stopped, stared hard at her, then looked up at the ceiling.“Well, if one of the girls is, well, you know,” he motioned with both hands rolling outward over his chest, “how can I not see them? Not that the girls are topless. Just, well, Charlotte, what do you want me to say?”
“Nothing. I want to clarify the issue and let you know that some of the girls feel uncomfortable.”
“They’re at that age, terribly self-conscious.” He nodded. “Growing pains and all that. I’m getting close to retirement age, adolescence in reverse. That’s how I think of it. My legs buckle and my belt doesn’t.”
She smiled.“Just don’t go in the dressing room anymore. Everyone’s on pins and needles. I’d hate to see this get blown out of proportion.”
His gray eyebrows shot upward.“A suit? You mean someone would bring a lawsuit against me?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t think anything would go that far.”
“Oh, Charlotte, all a judge has to do is see a young woman cry in the dock and whoever is accused, even if he’s as innocent as John the Baptist, his head will roll.” He inhaled deeply. “I have loved teaching here. This is my home. But I’m glad retirement is near. Things have changed, Charlotte, not for the better. If you hug a student, it could be sexual harassment. If you say anything, even in explaining our past, that could be construed as sexist, racist, or demeaning to some group. You’re put in the stocks and rotten eggs are thrown at you. And then you resign. It’s crazy. It’s out of control.”
“I agree, Bill, it’s gone too far, but I also know that for centuries, those with power thought nothing of mocking those without. I can sympathize with oversensitivity.”
“Oversensitivity is one thing, using it to harm others or climb up over their backs is quite another. That Pamela Rene is a little shit, I’m telling you. She’s stirred up a hornet’s nest over those artifacts. Do you know what she did last week? We’re rehearsingA Raisin in the Sun, one of my favorite plays. Talk about a slice of history. Well, she didn’t know her lines. I reprimanded her and she said why not use cue cards? She’s a spoiled brat and she hates Valentina and Tootie.”
“Why do you say that?”
“They’re more popular. She tries to bulldoze people. Valentina, in particular, has already mastered the art of consensus. If she can hold it together, that kid will be our first female governor or senator.”
“I agree. But back to the subject at hand. Do you agree not to go into the dressing rooms?”
“How am I going to check costumes?”
“Why can’t a girl come to you?”
“All right.” He folded his hands in his lap. “I see your point but I go on record as saying this is a bit silly.”
“Silly or not, Bill, we have a major problem facing us and this school doesn’t need any more jolts.”
His face reddened again but he agreed.“All right.” He paused. “Who is that tiny little black lady in Main Hall?”
“Ah, yes, Teresa and I need to alert all the faculty. Administration knows but I haven’t gotten to faculty yet. She’s an expert on slave life and labor from 1800 to 1840. She’s a kind of social archaeologist.”
“From where?”
“Brown University.”
“Ah, then she is big beans.”
“Seems to be.”
“That was fast. I thought the search would take longer.”
“Let’s just say that Pamela has stolen a march on us.” She held up her hand. “But she really has found the right person to assess our treasures.”
“Have you checked her credentials?”
“I called the president of Brown this morning and, I’m happy to say, she called right back. Professor Kennedy teaches two classes a week, Wednesday and Friday, and we will pay her way back and forth until this is finished.”
“My God, how long will she be here? Knute Nilsson will have a cow!”
“So far he’s given birth to a small calf,” Charlotte remarked. “Professor Kennedy thinks she can complete a thorough physical examination in two weeks’ time, so that’s two trips to Rhode Island and back. She’ll take photographs and can work from those. It could be worse from a financial standpoint.”
“Yes, but you’d think there would be someone from UVA or William and Mary.”