Welcome to Episode 19 of Dancing at The Orange Peel, a 1960-70s serialized historical novel. Just getting started? Episode 1 | Full Episode Guide | Extra fun content in THE MAILBAG
Previously: Episode 18, A Matter of Time. Despite Grant's bad behavior the previous Saturday, Gwen finds herself surrendering to his wish to come for supper with her and Libby. Talking with him about it, Gwen manages to divert his attention from the yellow roses he's been eyeing on her desk. But just as she thinks she has matters under control, the front door of the Chamber swings open.
Episode 19: DRAWING LINES
Gwen was shocked when Libby jerked away from her and stomped to position herself beside Grant at the window overseeing the office. A long stride took her to the window as well. Steading herself with a grip on table’s edge, she responded breathlessly to Grant’s question about the man now settled into the chair beside her desk: “Yes, he’s the new member.”
Gwen placed her hands on Libby’s shoulders, hoping to suppress any comments from her. Her daughter shrugged, but didn’t pull away this time. Gwen gently turned her and motioned her to sit. Libby obeyed, but in a huff, she crossed her arms and stuffed her fists in her pits. Checking that Grant hadn’t seen Libby’s dramatics, Gwen put a finger to her lips to reinforce her directives for Libby to keep quiet. Libby jutted her chin.
Grant turned from the window and propped hands on his hips. “Why in the world—?”
“Why?” Gwen snapped, stepping toward him. She had been over this with him so many times. He was well aware of how her boss’s attempts to deny membership to Blacks had ired her, but other opinions, and the law, eventually prevailed. “The Board knew it was the right thing to do!”
Brow furrowed, he was clearly puzzled by her comment. He glanced toward Nate and Dorothy in the other room then turned back to her. His head cocked, he said slowly, “Nooo.” After a pause, he clarified for her: “Dennis.”
A flush burned up her neck that she hoped he didn’t notice. While she’d known a meeting—or at least a passing—between Grant and Nate was bound to happen here sooner or later, for now, thankfully, he was only asking about her brother. She released a slow breath of relief.
“Why’s he home?” he asked. Then answering himself, he added, “Oh, yeah. Easter.”
Grasping this opportunity to keep his attention off Nate, she told him, “Not for Easter. Not yet. I don’t think I can talk him out of it, Grant.”
“Out of what?”
Through the glass, she saw Dorothy approach, but she turned back to Grant’s question and shared the thing that had been eating at her for days: “Denny wants to leave school.”
“Why?”
Dorothy poked her head in the door. “I thought we got this fella all taken care of last week, but he’s wanting to talk to you again.”
“Thank you, Dorothy.” Gwen nodded at her and avoided the urge to look out at Nate. “I’ll be right there.” Could she somehow get Grant to stay in here with Libby? “It’s a long story,” she told him. “But he wants to go to that Poor People’s Campaign march in Washington.”
“That still happening?”
“Hopefully not.” The contradiction in her answer brought a knot to her throat. The march needed to happen, but she didn’t want her brother to lose his scholarship over going to it. “Not with King shot,” she added, no longer resisting a glance out the window. Nate was reaching toward the vase on her desk that held the roses he’d given her. Smiling, he rearranged them among the baby’s breath.
Grant followed her gaze. “New member likes your flowers.”
Before she could answer, Libby did. “Well, yeah!” She jumped up and returned to the window.
Gwen grabbed her daughter’s vocabulary list from the table and thrust it into Libby’s hand. “If you don’t get to that homework,” she warned, “you won’t get to eat eggrolls tonight. Or to play games.”
Libby stuck out her bottom lip, leaned into Grant’s hip, and pointed out the window. “Nate’s waiting for you, Mama.”
Grant’s eyes widened.
Neither of them were accustomed to this sassy tone from Libby. Rattled, all Gwen could think to do was scold. “Young lady, you know better than to call Chamber members by their first names. It’s disrespectful.”
“But he sa—”
“You’ll bring Chinese tonight?” Gwen quickly turned to Grant to confirm.
He grinned and patted Libby’s shoulder. “We have a date.” When he walked out of the room, Gwen had no choice but to follow. Just outside the door, he stopped. “I should be there by seven.”
Gwen winced, wondering if he’d said it so loud on purpose, for Nate to hear.
Libby slipped between them, grabbing Grant’s hand and swinging his relaxed arm. “Don’t forget the eggrolls!”
“Not a chance, Princess.”
Gwen wished to disappear, but she had no place to hide.
Before she could speak, Libby called out, “Hey, Nate!” Immediately, Libby lowered her voice and corrected herself. “I mean Mr. Boniface.” Before Gwen could respond, Libby quickly dropped Grant’s hand and disappeared inside the meeting room. Gwen resisted the urge to do the same, but hiding wouldn’t change any of this.
“What’s going on with you two?” Grant asked. “She’s not acting like herself.”
“Oh . . . I don’t know. She’s . . .”
“What?”
“Nothing really. She’s upset over something at school.”
“Looked to me like she’s upset with you.” He tapped his forefinger just above her wrist. “Don’t see that often.”
“No.” She waved the air between them. “She’s just doesn’t want to do her homework. That’s all.” The second her words left her mouth, she knew her story wasn’t consistent. In her peripheral vision, she saw Nate stand and wander to the brochure rack near the front door. He feigned interest in a flyer on the top row. Marking time until she could get to him.
“That’s not our Libby then,” Grant said. “Who switched out our girl?” He rested his hand fully on her arm this time.
She stepped toward her desk, hoping he would follow and then leave. Instead, he poked his thumb over his shoulder toward her boss’s office. “I’m going to stick my head in and bug Bolden for a minute.”
“Oh . . . Okay.”
Yes, this could work. Maybe he’d stay in there until Nate was gone.
Grant knocked. Bolden greeted him. “Hey, you old cuss. Come in.” Grant only partially closed the door after entering.
Nate had returned to the chair beside her desk. As she approached, he glanced from her to the roses and back. “Lovely flowers.” His voice was soft. The edges of his lips slightly upturned.
“Thank you.” She sucked in her cheeks to keep from smiling too widely. She glanced back at the conference room. Libby stood in the doorway. Gwen expected her to be watching, but she was staring at the floor and leaning toward Bolden’s door. Would Gwen ever be able to break her daughter’s inclination to eavesdrop? Libby glanced up, wide-eyed when she realized she’d been seen.
“Homework,” Gwen mouthed.
Libby rolled her eyes, turned, and stomped inside.
“I guess I’ve come at a bad time?” Nate asked.
“It’ll be fine,” was all she could say.
“Why don’t I . . . return later.”
For a moment that sounded like a good idea. But when he went to stand, she impulsively reached out. “No, really.” She whispered, “It’s okay.” She glanced at Dorothy, now seated at her desk. “Let’s step over here.” Carefully choreographing not to draw attention, she motioned toward the information counter. Nate followed her and once behind the counter, she spread out a county map, rustling the paper to assure Dorothy noticed. She pointed to a spot in the middle of the county as if identifying a landmark for him. They leaned over the map, side by side, their elbows nearly touching. Gwen’s skin prickled.
“Jeff wants us to go to dinner with him and the Howells,” Nate said, keeping eyes on the map.
Her stomach flipped. “When?” Of course, a dinner in public with him was out of the question. Wasn’t it? This was the second time he’d asked, so clearly he didn’t think so. Without raising her head, she turned her eyes upward to see Dorothy staring at them, her face a blank. Gwen could never quite tell what her co-worker thought about this new member.
“She’s jealous,” Nate whispered, as if reading Gwen’s mind.
Restraining her urge to grin, she whispered back, “Does she have something to be jealous about?”
He gazed directly at her and said aloud this time, “I hope so.”
She bit her bottom lip, and just as she tapped her forefinger on another random spot on the map, Grant and her boss stepped out of Bolden’s office. She eyed them cautiously. To her relief, they paused just outside the office door. Keep talking, please. In the room next door, Libby leaned to watch—and listen.
Grant glanced across the room toward them. Then he turned to Bolden, speaking louder than necessary, “Have you figured out what to do about your bathrooms yet?” He smirked and tilted his head toward the hallway.
Gwen sucked in a breath. Nate’s eyes were fixed on the paper in front of them, but he appeared to be biting his bottom lip, too.
“This was pushed on me, you know,” Bolden replied. “Not what I wanted.”
Grant peered toward her and Nate, while responding. “Doesn’t any of us, that I know of, want to share space with them.” He pulled back his shoulders and raised his chin. “Most especially when we’re doing our private business.”
Gwen winced. She should have let Nate leave when he’d asked. Even in a whisper, her words stuck in her throat. “I’m . . . sorry.”
Still not looking up from the map, he gave a single nod that let her know he’d heard her.
Bolden went on. “Never thought I’d have to deal with such as this. I haven’t had time to think about it yet.”
Head down, eyes upturned, Gwen watched the two men. Grant placed a hand on her boss’s shoulder. “Well, I’ll just make sure I take care of my business at the station facilities from now on.” He jabbed his elbow at Bolden. “If you know what I mean.” They laughed, shook hands, and Grant finally headed for the front door. Without breaking his stride, he glanced her way, smiled, nodded once. He glared at Nate and back to her again. Then with a slower nod, he announced, “See you at seven.”
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