She followed him up the steps to the front porch. This close, Anna could see that the house needed painting and some of the railings on the porch were splintering, but she would have to say that Jesse’s house was in no worse shape than Miss Myrtle’s for having gone through some rough economic years.

The front door led almost immediately into the kitchen, where three women bustled around the stove and the counters, and the air seemed thick with cooking smells both savory and pungent. Anna’s mouth instantly watered.

One of the women worked over a frying pan filled with something that popped and sizzled on the stove. She lifted her head in Anna’s direction with a half smile. “I’m Jesse’s mama, ma’am,” she said. Anna was surprised by the woman’s light skin and silky black hair tucked behind her ears in waves. The woman could probably pass for white if she chose to. She was definitely Jesse’s mother, though, no doubt about it. Her eyes were like his: round, dark, and beautiful. “We about to put dinner on the table,” she said. “Glad you could join us. Jesse, you git washed up now.”

“Yes, Mama,” Jesse said, and he disappeared from the kitchen.

“Thank you for inviting me.” Anna felt awkward standing there empty-handed while the three women worked. One of them set down the knife she was using, wiped her hands on her apron, and took a few steps toward her.

“I’m Jesse’s aunt Jewel,” she said. She was a pretty woman with skin the same rich shade as Jesse’s, almond-shaped eyes, and coarse hair smoothed back into a bun. The woman’s smile struck Anna as serene, as though nothing in the world could fluster her, and she liked her instantly. “Jesse’s told us about what y’all are working on,” Aunt Jewel continued. “It’s all he talks about these days. And he loves those books you got for him to borrow.” Aunt Jewel looked at the third woman in the kitchen who was whipping something in a large beige crock. “Dodie?” she prompted. “Say hello to our guest?”

The woman stilled her hands and looked up from the bowl, and Anna saw that she was really a girl, no more than eighteen or nineteen. She had a boxy build, a narrow dark face, and an expression that was either tired or bored.

“Hey,” the girl said.

“Hi, Dodie,” Anna said, but Dodie had already returned her attention to her task.

“Jesse’s sister,” Aunt Jewel said.

“Ah,” Anna said.

“We’re ready.” Jesse’s mother lifted a platter of fried chicken from the counter and walked past Anna into the next room.