Alligator Bayou - Donna Jo Napoli [30]
“Pasticcia rustica,” I say, remembering the ingredients on the table this morning.
“Those pies are so good, they’ll be like a present.”
A present! “I want to get Patricia a present.” The words blurt from me on their own. I don’t even know if people give graduation presents here.
“Who’s Patricia?”
“She’s graduating. It’s her party. Charles is her brother. Paul from last night is her uncle.” The words keep tumbling out. Would she even want a present from me?
Francesco bobs his head. “Graduating, huh? She needs a nice present.”
And in this instant I know exactly the right one. I made it for her—I just didn’t know that when I was doing it. “I’ve got to go see Frank Raymond. About the present.”
Francesco rubs his lips. “You’re the reason we’re invited. So, all right. You go to Frank Raymond’s. Then you come back early.”
“I promise.”
But at that moment the girl who works for Mrs. Severe comes in. I smile. Then I blink. I’d nearly forgotten about the feud. The Severe family is friends with the Rogers family, everyone knows that. So if Mrs. Rogers is boycotting Francesco’s grocery, I would have expected Mrs. Severe to do the same. Francesco rushes past me to serve her.
Coming through that door a second later is Joe Evans’ wife. Francesco shoots me a look: take care of her fast. I greet Mrs. Evans and run around filling her order. Then Richie comes in. He’s been our hired hand on many occasions. Francesco’s still serving Mrs. Severe’s girl and I’m still serving Mrs. Evans. So I wave to Richie, to let him know I saw him.
Mr. Coleman comes in the door. I feel almost dizzy: four customers at once! He calls out, “What I got to do to get some service around here?”
Francesco is already wrapping the last of the order for Mrs. Severe’s girl. He tucks it into her basket and she scurries out, head down.
“Mr. Coleman,” calls Francesco. “I be there. I take care Richie, and you next.”
“What? You joking? I need them fat strawberries—like you sold us last week.”
“Richie here first. You next.” Francesco turns to Richie. “What you want?”
Mr. Coleman looks like he’s been hit on the head. He points at me. “Boy, get me them strawberries.”
I’m wrapping beans in newsprint for Mrs. Evans. My breath catches.
“Now!” he shouts.
Mrs. Evans grabs the beans. “I reckon I have what I need, Calogero. Much obliged.” She practically runs out the door.
Francesco is talking friendly to Richie. He doesn’t even look at Mr. Coleman.
“Yes, sir!” I say to Mr. Coleman. “Strawberries. They came fresh this morning.”
Mr. Coleman’s hands are jammed in his pockets. He rocks back on his heels and surveys the ceiling.
“Is this enough?” I hold out a sheet of newsprint piled high with the best berries.
“You say sir to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t look me in the face. Look at the ground when you talk to a gentleman.”
I look down. “Yes, sir. Would you need anything else, sir?”
“Be polite. Not like that crazy man you work for. Serving darkies ahead of whites! Ain’t you got eyes? I walk in here and I see three darkies. That makes me first. You got that?” He takes off his cap and smacks it against a bin. “No wonder you people get in trouble all the time. They say you’re instigators. But they’re wrong. Fact is, you ain’t got no sense.” He slaps his cap back on, pulls it down hard. “I ain’t soft, like Willy Rogers. You ever treat me this way again and y’all won’t have no business no more.”
I’m shaking now. Polite. That’s the second time I’ve heard that word this morning. Be polite. No matter what. I wrap the strawberries. Perfect Sicilian-grown strawberries, if he only knew—ha! “Six cents, sir.”
Mr. Coleman throws the coins on the floor. “I see how y’all give food to them darkies for free. You didn’t take a cent from that woman. Not one red cent. Then you overcharge the whites. Y’all’re planning something, all right. You pee down my back and tell me it’s raining, and you think I don’t know no better. Criminals. A bunch of criminals. Willy Rogers got that down, all right.” He grabs the strawberries and leaves.