Mrs. Slocum-Lofton let the uncomfortable silence hang in the air a few minutes, and then continued.
“Now, Robert, what else did you notice about my speech at the Ridgeline Fire beside that it was a man our age who kept me from hitting the ash up there?”
“It was a splendid performance overall, I must say,” Mr. Braxton said, blowing out a relieved breath that she hadn't gotten up and walked out on him.
“You think that was what that was?”
Now, they could get into the meat of the matters at hand, because of course, their entire circle had agreed on several key things, and he did not realize the sincerity of the change in Mrs. Slocum-Lofton's life since she had become an actual Christian.
“I could not have done it better myself if I had thought of it,” he said.
“I always knew you had it in you, Selene, to ascend from being annoyed by the lesser races to finding more creative ways to keep them dependent.”
The circle of Miss Madison and everyone allowed into it had all agreed, completely, on the institution and maintenance of white supremacy – and, in fairness to Mr. Braxton, Mrs. Slocum-Lofton had only not agreed for just two months at the time of this dinner.
“Give me your impression of my donating my property of Cedar Court to the Black and Latino communities,” she said, “because I'm sure I never thought what you have thought.”
“That is what is so charming about you, Selene … you are pure instinct, able to do what other men have not dreamed of doing … all that you have lacked is a husband's guidance, and you need not have come so late to such brilliance. But, better late than never.
“The lesser races go for teary and trembling Christian repentance among white people, and you provided it. Your being somewhat indisposed that day made it all the more real; the fact that you had to stand there and wait on their carrying on added to it. That you did it without complaint; magnificent. The history you were repentant of – flawless. Shows personal growth – they love that. On the same ground that you once celebrated a young Black woman's death, you give the ground to them so that they can celebrate – memorialize, and yet – the death of many of their kind in the Ridgeline Fire! That was just delicious on its face!”
While this was going on, the first course was being served, and Mr. Braxton noted his new wait staff members: a couple were out sick but had recommended suitable replacements, and they were more than suitable. The substitute head waiter reminded him of Captain Anderson – both of them were in impeccable shape, although this man was dark-haired, dark-eyed, and bore a certain resemblance to some figure in history that he could not place at the moment, because Mrs. Slocum-Lofton's laughter brought his attention back to her.
“You saw all that?” she said afterward.
“And more!” he said.