“Uh-uh.” Joyce shook her head and scrunched up her face. “That’s still the South. We’d be just as limited there as we are here. Every time I see a WHITE FOLKS ONLY sign when I go shopping, I feel less than human. I’d like to live in a place where I can eat and reside wherever I want, and not worry about getting arrested for saying something to a white person that might offend them. I’m talking about cities like Detroit and Chicago. Colored folks are moving to places like those in droves. And from what I hear from the relatives they left down here, they are living like kings.”

My whole body felt like it was going to break up into a million little pieces. I was not about to leave Betty Jean and my sons behind. I did not want to uproot them, no matter how much property and money me and Joyce inherited. Besides that, Betty Jean was too close to her family, her friends, and her church. I knew there was no way she would agree to move to one of them cold Northern cities.

“Joyce, please don’t talk about your mama and daddy dying, and us letting white folks’ antics chase us away. That kind of talk depresses me. And just so you know, I do not want to live where it snows. You know how much I love managing the store, and we both way too young to retire. I’m only thirty-six. I have a lot of good years left. I want to be doing something productive, not sitting around waiting to die. Shoot. If you sell the properties, with my lack of education, the only other jobs I’d be able to get would be on somebody’s farm. Or doing handyman work again at Aunt Mattie’s whorehouse. Don’t you think we done come too far to end up like that?”

Joyce held her hand up to my face. “Don’t get too riled up, sugar.” She giggled. That eased my discomfort a whole lot. I realized she wasn’t as serious as I thought. “I’m sorry I started a conversation on this subject. Now that I know how you feel, we’ll leave things the way they are. You can manage the store as long as you want. If I do sell it, I’d get the new owner to put it in writing.”

“Good. Now let’s change the subject.” I was so relieved, I grabbed Joyce’s hand and kissed it. Then I kissed her lips. I was still holding her hand when we stopped kissing. I was glad she giggled again. “Let’s move on to something more pleasant.”

“How about supper? Do you want to eat before we go visit Yvonne and Milton? I cooked some frog legs, collard greens, and macaroni and cheese.”