Chapter Twenty

Late the Following Morning
Jackson Manor
Rainelle Parish, Louisiana


Peck…Peck…Peck…Peck!
Vylette Meraux, floating in the strange grey area that lay between being fully awake and still asleep, murmured softly, her bare, slim arms hugging the thick, down-stuffed pillow tightly to herself.
Trying desperately to tip the battle towards her wanting to remain within slumber’s grasp, and away from the mounting tasks at hand that begged her alertness.
Peck…Peck…Peck…Peck!
Though she could have carelessly and easily surrendered back to the Land of Nod, she could not ignore the series of tiny smacks being planted on her.
They had run, continuously, for about the last five minutes, stating near the base of her neck, just below where her raven-colored tresses had been rolled into a sleek chignon, down the legnth of her spine, over the back strap of her pale gold brassiere and down to the waist band of her matching tap-pants panties.
And there they were again!
Peck…Peck…Peck…Peck!
Again, the smacks ended at the top of her underwear.
There was an odd lull; the teeny kisses ceased.
The two, thin brows on the clear, white forehead raised, but the eyes beneath then remained shut.
“Violette Blanche…” The voice of her betrothed crooned sweetly off into her ear, the area around her starting to dip with extra weight. “…you asked me to wake you at half-past eleven. It’s now a quarter to twelve. Now come on, Darling--there’s coffee percolating on the table just for you…”
Eyes starting to blink and open, Vylette stared off into the gentle face of Michael Jackson, crouching at her side.
A slightly crooked smile was on his face and the affection in his eyes were plain as the lightweight wool sweater on his back.
Starting to release the pillow, Vylette questioned with a grin,
“May I have it with plenty of cream and sugar?”
“Do you take it any other way?” Michael snorted as she pushed herself upright and started to swing her feet from underneath the covers.
“One day, I just may surprise you!” She snickered as Michael rose and crossed the room to the table, where the silver pot was bubbling and gurgling.
Stretching her arms over her head, Vylette sat a moment, watching her lover deftly preparing a filled-to-the-brim china cup for her.
He was so handsome in his black sweater over a white oxford, with a tweed bowtie and slacks.
“Here you are…” The cup was presented with a laughable bow. “…do you know what you’d like to wear?”
“Hmmm--something simple. I’m going to be chained to the kitchen the greater part of the day. I’ve got to cut up the hens--”
“Oh, I had Adelaide do that, cut the birds up for frying…”
Michael commented, and disappeared into the cavern he called a closet.
Vylette watched him go in wonder.
He was so helpful to her!
Having the five hens cut already would reduce her work by at least an hour!
“Is this alright?”
Emerging from the closet, Michael carried two items.
Draped over one arm was an unfussy dress of sleeveless black and white dotted percale. Dangling from his other hand was a pair of low-heeled white leather shoes, with shining black patent toes and heels.
“Yes, thank you, Baby…” Cup empty, Vylette set it on the bedside table and stood, her arms raised.
Instantly the dress was dropped on, with Vylette lifting the skirt to straighten her stockings and garters, which she had napped in, before stepping into the shoes.
“I don’t know how you do it, Dear.” Michael commented, hand on his waist, following Vylette as she started for the door.
“What?”
Just outside the door, Michael threw his arms around her.
“Last night, you were dripping in gems, wearing a seven hundred dollar designer gown, having been made up by Armand’s best stylists. And right now you’re in the most economical of dresses, not a drop of makeup or jewelry--other than this…”
He held up her hand displaying the pink diamond engagement band.
“--and you’re still the most breathtaking woman I’ve ever laid eyes on!”
“Oh stop!” Vylette tittered, her cheeks darkening with flattery.
If Michael kept up with the compliments, she‘d never make it downstairs!
Those trim brows of his wiggled with devilment and he remarked with a sigh,
“You do know…you were the Belle of the Gala, just as I predicted.”
Arm around her waist, the two started along the hall to the the turn for the staircase.
“How so?” Vylette glanced up and him and saw he was looking over her head, a small frown on his face.
Turning, Vylette saw why.
Across the floor, the door to Marlon’s bedroom stood open, and both he and Lorraine were clearly knocked out on his cream leather chaise lounge, a bright quilt thrown over them.
They weren’t even making an effort to get up! And it was nearly noon!
The flesh on her shoulder was pinched and her attention was diverted back to her lover.
“You know, you’ve already received invites from two of the ladies.” Michael informed and Vylette nearly lost her footing at the top of the stairs.
“Was last night really real? Did it happen? I didn‘t merely dream it?” She gasped as Michael made certain to jerk her back from harm.
Why, it had all seemed like such a dream to her. The fineness of it all. The elegant, intelligent, enchanting ladies. The suave debonair gentleman. The orchestra playing nine waltzes in a row after Michael complained to Sir Reginald that he couldn’t dance with Vylette properly to ragtime.
The generous, glowing. long-winded toast by the Englishman, welcoming the four of them into the club followed by thunderous applause and Marlon Jackson’s own long-winded thank you.
And then there was the matter of meeting Charlie Chaplin!
He had been unable to stay for the rest of the festivities, due to more appearances concerning ’City Lights’ but had wholeheartedly promised to be at the opening of the Palace.
Vylette wanted too pinch herself, but dared not, lest she wake to find it all an illusion.
“Lady Tabitha wants you and Lorraine tomorrow, to play Bridge with her and a few of the other women, and Zelda invited you two for lunch in New Orleans ….”
Michael trailed off as they descended to the first floor.
“I had to decline Lady Tabitha‘s offer--remember, my brother, nieces and nephews are coming tomorrow on the train, but I believe you and your cousin can sneak away on Wednesday to see Zelda…”
Vylette smirked up at him, but said no more.
She knew he greatly favored Zelda over Tabby, simply because she was more accomplished, and her husband more tolerable.
She still couldn’t imagine why Michael was so turned off by the Cavendishes.
But she knew Michael wanted his soon-to-be wife around good solid folks. And that was good enough for her.
(If it weren’t for him, she’d be a certain young man’s punching bag right about now!)
“I’ll select my clothes for that once I get most of the pots on, right now, I’ve got chicken to fry, cabbage to braise, potatoes to scallop and rolls to cloverleaf. And resurrect Lorraine to make the Peach Cobbler and Pea Salad!” Vylette was shaking her head, and trying to mentally prep herself to get the entire meal to jumping.
“And to think, just last night, you were eating food prepared by a fleet of chefs flown in from France--” Michael was interrupted by an inquiry,
“What was that goo we ate last night? All I recognized was the salmon, because it was pink!”
Vylette snickered, heading to the small bench by the front door, and having a seat.
Hands in his pockets, Michael teased his little darling.
“Don’t you know, Mein Leibling, you inhaled each course and left behind a cleaned plate!”
“Just tell me, String Bean!” Lavender eyes rolled and both chuckled.
“For Starters, we had Oysters Rockefeller…that was the little things in the half shell with the browned top…it had spinach in it…”
“I liked those…” Vylette replied smiling. “They were buttery.”
“I don’t care for Oysters--” Michael began in a rib tickling, phony British accent and Vylette pinched him.
“You’re in Louisiana now, right on the Gulf, get used to seafood!”
“Then, for the Soup Course, you had Lobster Bisque, with me, while my brother and your cousin had Turtle Soup. That’s why they looked ridiculous while eating it--it tastes like chicken with a fishy aftertaste. You can‘t make me like turtle, Baby.”
Vylette recoiled, remember the strange expressions on their faces as they had eaten and his brows wiggled at her again.
“Main Course was the Smoked Salmon Terrine with Lemon Crème and Dill, accompanied by Garlic Risotto and Broiled Tomatoes…”
That had been delicious!
“And for Dessert, a Chocolate Mouss--”
“VYLETTE! VYLETTE! VY! VY! OH, VY!”
At the sound of the panicked screaming, both the young adults were on their feet and rushing out onto the porch.
Racing up the tree-lined path, Vinnie Meraux was pumping her skinny legs as hard as she could, bearing down over the handlebars of her bicycle, flying towards the porch.
She was pedaling so hard, the skirt of her blue dress, printed with green and red apples, was completely in the wind, showing off her white panties.
“VY! VYLETTE! VYLETTE! VY! HEY, VY!”
Reaching the steps, the bike was tossed onto its side and the child, red-faced and wool-gathered came bounding up to them.
“Vinnie, what’s the matter?” Vylette demanded, fearing the worst a her sister reached her, stooping to catch her wind.
“I…I just got outta Mass! And Mama made me go home, cause she wanted me to change before I came to help y’all cook!”
“Yeah? Yeah?”
“Well--” Michael physically picked up Vinnie, still huffing wildly, and placed her in a wicker chair.
“Well, what?” Vylette asked impatiently and the child stared at her sister, grey eyes huge.
Vinnie’s reply caused Vylette to sit down.
“When we walked in the house, there was new stuff! A radio! Oh, its gorgeous Vy! A big cabinet one--Papa says its oak inlaid with mahogany. Why, it’s got the Lord’s Supper carved right into it! It’s so beautiful! And…and a telephone! We’ve got a telephone now, Vy. Can you imagine? And in the kitchen, there’s a huge icebox! It runs on electricity--and it was full of food! Oh it’s a miracle--Vy!”
As Vinnie continued to wail and praise God, Jesus and a few dozen of the Saints, Vylette looked to Michael, who had been idling behind the child wordlessly.
His grin said more than enough.
“…I think there was a ham in the fridge, you know Papa loves ham! Mama said it was extras, but Papa said ‘Tough Titty, Kathleen, everything’s installed, already!’ and she yelled at him for using the word ‘titty‘…”
“Thank you…” Vylette mouthed silently, and stepping around the chair, Michael bent and was kissing her.
“Yuck, y’all!” Vinnie cried at the spectacle, but neither cared.
Vylette was moving up in the world, and it was all thanks to her loving, doting fiancé who only wanted the best for her--and her family. 

* * *

“…do you want thick or thin slices?”
At the polite, eager inquiry, Vylette’s gaze shifted upwards from the head of red cabbage she was shredding.
Across the wide, wooden work table from her, her kid sister’s face was obscured by a large ceramic bowl, over flowing with freshly peeled russet potatoes.
“Very thin, Vinnie…” She instructed firmly. “Remember, scalloped potatoes need to be cut thin to cook up the right way. If they’re too thick, the top will burn, before the rest is done. Okay?”
“Okay!”
A spud appeared in the small, capable hands of the ten-year-old and just as she wanted, uniform slices were falling off by the blade of a paring knife.
In her own hands, the last few bits of cabbage were shredded, being thrown into a large pot setting on the floor, where five other heads just like it sat, waiting to go on the stovetop.
In need of a couple of onions to chop and toss in along with it, Vylette stood and couldn’t help but marvel at the kitchen of Jackson Manor.
Comprised of a large room that was easily four times the size of the Meraux kitchen, it seemed a page out of ‘Better Homes and Gardens‘.
Tying in with color scheme of the formal dining room, the kitchen was cream with accents of olive green and brick red.
Underneath her feet, the floor was hardwood, topped with a cheery red and cream linoleum in a checkered pattern.
The greater part of the woodwork was painted that serene shade of cream and the recesses of the carving on the cabinets were green highlighted in red.
Plain, cream eyelet curtains hung from the four windows in the room, allowing much sunlight in.
Off to the side, was a cozy nook, a small vase full of pink roses from Michael’s garden on top of the table.
Through the window, one would have been offered a view of the brand-new pool, but as Michael wanted it and the solarium kept from sight until dinner that night, he’d had a huge sheet erected to hide it.
Vylette’s head shook with contempt as she passed it by, heading for the pantry.
Michael wanted everything to be a certain way, and as usual, he was granted it.
The pantry itself was a cave, cool and dim, stacked to ceiling with jars of homemade preserves, canned goods, and crates with bottles of soda.
In the very back, some fruits and root vegetables were in bins, waiting to be eaten.
So many more things than Vylette had seen at one time. It could have put Pelant’s store to shame.
In the back on a high shelf, were several wooden crates that Vylette could see were filled with the bonbons that went into the candy box kept in a drawer in Michael’s bedroom.
It was a wonder he kept so slim, with some many gooey, fattening and waist-expanding treats on hand.
Selecting two large yellow onions, Vylette exited, feeling nothing but blessings from the ease in which she had with cooking that afternoon.
The stove was huge, running on gas and featuring two ovens, a bun warmer, a plate warmer and eight burners, helping to speed along the process.
Vylette had never been able to get all of her pots on the stove at one time--and with burners to spare!
And it was so far away from the work area, she hadn’t even broken a sweat from the preheating ovens.
She was remarkably cool, her only complaint was she nicked herself on the knife as she sliced cabbage.
On one wall, a double-wide Frigidaire chugged quietly, and inside, several large bowls, containing chicken cuts and seasoned buttermilk, marinated waiting to be breaded and take that dive into red-hot lard.
There were so many modern appliances, mixers, blenders, a toaster, even a small radio on one of the many counters, where gospel hymns played at a low volume, it could have been one of those display kitchens seen in a department store.
Climbing back up on the stool, Vylette was reaching for her knife, when the door to the kitchen swung open.
“Miss Vylette…” Adelaide came waddling in, feather duster gripped in her plump fist.
“Yes?” Vylette was chopping. And almost chopped her finger clean off.
“Mr. Ulrich is here to see you. He said he’d like to speak to you and Mr. Michael.”
Vylette’s head came up in surprise. Ulrich was there? What on Earth was he there for? She prayed that witch of a mother of his wasn’t out to stop them from attending the theatre opening! (And the cameo by Charlie Chaplin in person!)
“Um…show him in, here, please. I can‘t stop my work right now.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Vinnie, go get Michael, he’s in the garden.”
“Okay, Vy…!”
The child and large older woman disbanded and a moment later, the door swung again.
This time, Ulrich Povah, came shuffling in.
Dressed casually in an oxford with plaid slacks and suspenders, he was bashfully kneading a newsboy cap in his hands.
“H-hey there, Vylette…” He greeted her in his meek manner, and Vylette smiled. He was such a sweet boy.
“Hey Ulrich, excuse me, I’m getting a jump on dinner. I hope you don’t mind talking in the kitchen.”
“N-n-no…” He was looking around, his dull eyes growing at the sight of the most advanced kitchen he’d likely seen.
“Gosh…this is fancy, ain’t it? Like in the movies…” He stammered, coming closer to the table.
“Yes…” An onion was tossed into the pot and the other was being cut. “Have a seat--”
“I’m alright. I’ve been sitting since I got outta Mass. Missed you and…and Lorraine at the church this morning…”
“Yes…we didn’t get back from the City until very early. We’d have never made it to church in time…” Vylette was chopping away, and felt a pang of guilt over the sad look that crossed that thin mug of his, at the mention of her cousin’s name. Vylette did so like Ulrich and did hate to see him hurt.
But Lorraine had eyes for Marlon Jackson, and only God himself could have wrecked that union.
“Yeah, I heard tell about that. Y’all got into….a…a Country Club up there? That‘s what Hildegard told us.” Ulrich leaned against the table as Vylette tossed in more onion chunks and stood, heaving the pot up onto her hip.
“Lemme help you with that!” Automatically, his hat was tossed aside and Ulrich was taking the pot from her.
“Will you put it on the stove please? I have to start braising it.”
“Sure.” Toting it easily, Ulrich followed her.
“Golly, that’s a big stove! I wish we had one like that at home, Mama spends all day with my sisters, cooking for all of us.”
“Thank you, Ulrich.” Vylette kept quiet, wondering if Ulrich knew what his sister Hannah knew.
That, in some alternate universe, perhaps all of this and more would have been theirs.
“We were inducted to the Fleur de Lis last night…” Vylette was drowned out as the door swung open and held allowing Vinnie in first, and then Michael came in declaring,
“Hello there, Ulrich! This is a surprise! How are you?”
As Vinnie returned to her potatoes, Michael was coming forward, shaking the boy’s hand like they were the best of friends.
“I’m alright, how are you?” Ulrich managed a smile as the three returned to the table.
“Fine, fine…” Leaving the boy idling, Michael advanced over to the refrigerator and opened the door, displaying a bounty of goods and for a moment, Vylette saw Ulrich’s eyes pop again at all the food.
“Would you like a Coca-Cola or something?” Michael offered.
“Oh, no…thank you.”
“Vy, Vinnie?” He offered and Vinnie twisted in her seat,
“Can I have a Coke?” She questioned and Vylette, preparing to make the dough for the biscuits asked,
“Hand me the carton of eggs, please.”
“Sure, eggs…” They were handed to her and she got to cracking, “Coke…” The top was popped and passed to Vinnie who began gulping it.
“Tomato juice for me…” A glass was pulled down from a cupboard and was being filled with the red liquid, followed by two healthy shakes of Tabasco.
A sip was taken before Michael focused on his awkward friend.
“Now, what can I do for you, Ulrich? Adelaide said you wanted to speak to Vylette and me about something?”
“Yeah…uh…” Ulrich paused and glanced at Vinnie, who had returned to her slicing.
“…its about the outing, Fourth of July weekend…” He stammered, as Michael pulled up a stool alongside Vylette and sat down.
Nervously, Vylette began cracking eggs and tossing the shells aside into a wastebasket.
She just knew the next thing out that boy’s mouth was going to be something about his mother. She just knew that evil, conniving, backstabbing creature would do something, anything to spite the Jacksons, even if it meant knocking her own children out of the meeting of a lifetime.
That was pure wrong.
“…what exactly are we doing? I wanted to get straight on that.” Ulrich nodded seriously, as more eggs were broken.
“Hmm, I don’t know…” Michael had another sip and coughed as the hot sauce got the best of him. “..we’re leaving on Thursday evening, because the Palace opens on Friday, the third, and the Paragon opens on the actual Fourth, I had to flip a coin with Marlon for which day, hee-hee! We’re gonna--Vylette Evangeline, are you making bread dough? Take off your ring, before you bake it along with the rolls!”
Without paying much attention, Vylette had been throwing together her rolls dough and if it hadn’t been for Michael’s noticing, she’d have put her hands, twelve-carat diamond and all, into the mess.
“Oh!” Horrified she quickly removed it and placed it in his upturned palm.
Ulrich gave a soft gasp at the sight of it, but said nothing else. She pulled it off so fast, he wasn’t able to see it had come off her ring finger, thus advertising her engagement.
“As I was saying, we’re gonna check into the hotel, the Landmark, on Thursday and we’ll most likely have dinner in the club there or go out, if it’s too full for the holidays…then on Friday, gosh--that’s a lot of girls--there’s Vy and Vinnie and Lorraine, your five sisters and then my two nieces coming from New York. That’s nine girls, not to mention Mrs. Meraux. They’ll be all day getting ready for the premieres--”
“How…how many dresses will my sisters need?” Ulrich interrupted with a gulp and Vylette realized what his trouble was.
He wanted to make sure they all looked nice and appropriate, and was worried about affording it.
“Oh…let’s see…” Michael gave it a moment of thought as Vylette started to knead at the dough.
“Definitely two formal dresses for the premieres, those are black-tie events. Hannah will need a long evening gown, the younger ones can wear short dresses. I reckon another evening gown for if we eat out at the hotel Thursday night…and then stuff they can kick around in during the day…” He trailed off as Ulrich was twisting his hat again.
“I’m…I’m asking…well, ‘cause while my Papa is away, you know, he’s a traveling salesman, I’m the man of the house…and I gotta look after my sisters, and they all really are looking forward to going to shindig in the City--”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. Everything is my treat.”
The bread dough plopped to the table, sending a cloud of flour upwards.
Eyes bugged all around.
His treat? His treat? Michael was going to foot the bill for the Povah children? All of them?
That was too expensive! Even if he were wealthy!
“D’oh Michael, I can’t--” Ulrich was speechless and babbled like a fool.
“Of course you can, you’re my friend. This is all my event anyway. No worries. I’ll tell you what, send your sisters over here tomorrow afternoon, I have to go to the train station in the morning for my family. But they can come pick out their dresses from a catalog and we’ll send for them.”
“Michael, that’s at least fifteen dresses! I can’t possibly impress upon you for something that great!” Ulrich for the first time in his life found his tongue. “I know you’ve got it, but I couldn’t sponge like that--even if we are friends! I’d never take from a friend like that--”
“I’m not Steven.” Michael stated flatly and the words hung in air.
(Steven Wilkes was so stingy, he’d have let Ulrich starve to death before giving him a thin dime to buy a sandwich from Mumfree‘s.)
“I…I have to repay you. That’s what men do, Michael!” Ulrich choked out, going beet-red and breaking a sweat.
“I’m studying to be a doctor but once I start apprenticing for Dr. Meraux or working at a hospital or something, I’ll pay you back, I swear it!”
Vylette was proud of Ulrich. He was bumbling, but as far as she could see, he did have a solid head on his shoulders.
“Then you shall…” Michael stood and clapped the gangly Ulrich on the back. “…we’ll work out a series of weekly or monthly payments if it means so much to you.”
“Yes! Oh…oh thank you Michael! I’m not a moocher! I don’t mooch! I promise I’ll pay you back every cent, even if it takes me until the Year 2000! You have my word!”
He was clutching Michael’s hand shaking it hard.
“No problem. Glad to do it.” Michael was grinning back and Vylette felt warm and mushy inside with pride. “And I know you’re a man of your word, Ulrich.”
“Yes, thank you…” He nodded and slapped his cap back on. He was gazing at Michael with an admiration that was unnerving.
“I…I have to go run some errands for my Mama, but I’ll have the girls over here tomorrow. I promise. I’ll drive them myself. Thank you!”
“I’ll see you to the door. Vy, I’ll be right back.”
“Bye Vylette!”
The two ducked out, arms wrapped around each other, looking like the best of chums.
And Vylette pounded at her dough, smug that without a doubt, sooner or later, Ulrich Povah would abandon Steven Wilkes in favor of a friendship of a man who treated him as an equal and not as a lackey.
Now if only something could be done about that terror he called Mama! 

* * *

Later That Same Evening

“…and you’re absolutely certain you don’t want me to at least wear a suit? Are you absolutely sure? I mean this is an important dinner. Baby, we’re telling your family we’re engaged! We‘re going be married!”
Michael Jackson fretted that evening, as he jogged, trying to keep up pace with Vylette, speed-walking an entire ten paces through his bedroom ahead of him.
“Shhh!” As she reached the bathroom door, Vylette spun in horror. “Not so loudly! My sister will hear you! I’ve had to keep mum around her all day! Please!”
Turning the knob, Vylette entered to peaceful silence, but the moment Michael stepped through the door, a shrill screech pierced their ears.
“AHHHHHHH! I’m naked! Don’t look at me! Don’t look at me! I’m naked!”
Sitting in a bubble bath up to her shoulders, Vinnie, her hair wound around rags to reform her curls, was raising hell.
“He’s a man! He’s a man! He can see me! Vylette, make him go away!!!”
“Hey! Hey! HEY!” Vylette waved her arms until her sister shut up. “Lavinia! You’re ten! You haven’t got anything on you yet a man would care about seeing! Calm down before you give yourself a damn stroke!”
“Aw, Vy…” Pouting, Vinnie started to sink in the water.
“You get your hair wet and I’ll uproot a tree for you! I didn’t spend a half hour rolling your hair to have to you go and spoil it!”
Nearing the tub--her sister ducking, afraid she’d be popped--Vylette went to the adjoining shower and turned on the water.
“Michael do me a favor, pick out some dresses for me and Vinnie, will you? Something colorful and fun. But plain. No evening gowns. This will be a down-home dinner. I don’t need any pretension. Please, for me? And dress comfy--a sweater and slacks.”
Michael appeared to contemplate it a moment.
“Alright, but I’m wearing a bowtie, damn it--pardon me, Vinnie. I’ll be over in Marlon’s room showering and changing. Where’s Lorraine?”
“Checking that Peach Cobbler of hers. If she hadn’t slept all the afternoon like a fool, she’d have been done cooking when I got done!” With a nod of conviction, Vylette was pulling her dress off over her head, her curves on display.
“Vylette! You DO have what a man will care about seeing!” Vinnie squealed as the dress was dropped to the floor and Vylette in her underwear, turned to the child.
“Well, he’s going to be my hus--”
Large hands covered her mouth.
“Vylette, if you continue talking, you’ll tire yourself out, Mein Leibling. Take your shower and be quiet!” Michael hissed as she had almost let the cat out of the bag. Her knees buckled at her mistake.
He kissed the top of her head.
She was let go, and Michael eased out of the room.
Vylette watched him go.
“Mama would skin you alive if she knew you were in a man’s bathroom and he saw you in your skivvies!” Vinnie warned and heading for the shower, Vylette retorted hotly,
“And she’d beat your little ass black and blue if she knew you were in a man’s bathtub naked as the day you were born! Don’t throw stones when you’re in a glass house, smart-ass!”
Vinnie’s bottom lip protruded in front of her face by a foot, and satisfied, Vylette tossed her head, removed her undergarments and proceeded to enjoy a hot shower to wash away the perspiration her labor of a meal had dampened her with.
Forty-five minutes later, Vylette stood in the center of the formal living room, watching like a hawk as Adelaide was putting the finishing touches on the appetizers being offered before the dinner.
(Adelaide had prepared all of the appetizers.)
Three sleek, silver platters overflowed with old favorites: the pate de foie gras on large square crackers, cucumber boats filled with deviled ham and shrimp salad on round crackers.
In the center of the sideboard, a leaded crystal bowl was filled with fruit punch, several orange rings floated in it.
“Does it look alright, Miss Vylette?” Adelaide, in a light grey, uniform starched so hard it was crispy, asked, peeking over her shoulder at what was soon to be the lady of the house.
“Yes, Adelaide, it’s wonderful. Thank you.” Vylette nodded and pleased the woman began to waddle away.
“I still feel kind of hinky being dressed so laid-back like this…”
Stepping up alongside her, Michael Jackson was a rhapsody in blue.
He wore a cable-knit, baby blue cashmere sweater over a navy and white striped shirt and navy slacks.
And because Michael Jackson had the innate need to sparkle in order to feel dressed, he wore a baby blue, rhinestone covered bowtie. In addition, he wore the aquamarine peacock pin he had debuted the night before.
“You rock-headed fool, I love you!” Vylette laughed, throwing her arms around him and pecking at his chin, stopping to brush away the print her lipstick left behind.
“I love you too, Baby!” Michael chuckled good naturedly. “Let me get a look at you!”
Standing back to arm’s length , Vylette allowed Michael to see how the combination of him selecting a dress and shoes, along with her hand at styling herself had established a meshed, finished product of loveliness
Just as she had asked, Vylette wore an unadorned dress, but of course, by Michael’s touch, it had all the necessary details to make it sing.
The dress, made of gauzy chiffon was printed all over with a pleasing, large , watercolor floral, in generous pastel pinks, blues and lilacs, just the thing to set off her eyes, engagement ring, and diamond tennis bracelet to perfection.
Twisting back and forth, the heels of her pink pumps clicked delightfully.
“Do I look like a woman who’s about to announce her engagement?” Vylette winked and curls flopped everywhere as Michael bobbed his head earnestly.
“Ja, Mein Leibling!”
Going to the table, Vylette picked up a cucumber boat and started to her mouth with it.
“Mother says ‘Welcome to the Family’…”
There was a pause, and the boat tumbled back to the tray.
Everything on her swishing, Vylette spun on her heel to face Michael.
“Your…your mother?” She stammered, not quite sure she had heard him correctly.
His mother? Michael had told his mother? His mother knew they were to be married? And she had said welcome?
His mother was pleased with the impending union?
She had said welcome?!?!?!?!?
Michael, hands shoved into his pockets nodded sheepishly.
“I had to call long-distance all the way to Rhode Island to get her. She’d already gone to Newport with Randy, on vacation--you know, I told you she goes there every year. But I got her…”
Michael sauntered closer and stood over Vylette.
Deep brown and pale lavender-blue eyes stared deeply within each other.
“…and…well, I’ve spoken to Mother about you before, Vylette…plenty of time since we began courting…I mention you every time I call her or write her a letter…”
His hands grasped hers.
“…as I was talking about how you had done so much cooking today, Mother…Mother said, ‘Why Michael, a woman who is not only beautiful and brilliant, but a great chef as well? You’d better run out and marry her before someone else claims her!’ and…”
Michael’s eyes began to sparkle more than his bowtie.
“…and I said ‘Mother, I asked her to marry me two days ago.’ She started to cry, she was so happy. Vylette…she, she likes you so much…”
“Does she?” Vylette asked dreamily as she was pulled against him in a hug.
She liked her. Katherine Dauphine-Jackson liked her!!!
Vylette wanted to float away on a cloud right then and there.
“Yes…you’re everything my first wife wasn’t. You’re good and church-going and God-fearing, and wholesome. You’re kind and respectful of folks. You’re smart and sweet…and everything I need and want in a wife--”
Leaning back, Michael gazed at her lovingly.
“My wife…”
Vylette returned the gaze, eyes moistening,
“My husband…”
HONK! HONK!
Outside, from the driveway, a horn began blaring.
“Come on Vy, stop that…this is a happy evening…”
A soft, white handkerchief, embroidered with Michael’s initials in green silk was pulled from a pocket and carefully dabbing at Vylette’s eyes, so as not to muss her makeup.
“I am happy, damn it!” Vylette sniffled as he wiped at her nose.
“Please, try to be calm, Violette Blanche. We’re going to tell your parents they’ve gained a son…” Michael wiped a moment longer, then bawling the cloth, jammed it back into his pocket.
Large hands grasped her shoulders and he stared down at her intently.
HONK! HONK!
“Are you ready, Baby?”
Vylette nodded and mouthed.
“Yes…”
“Then, let’s go…”
And hand in hand, the two started for the front door.


* * *

An Hour Later


Kathleen Meraux was scowling.
And she had been scowling ever since she had set foot into the front foyer of Jackson Manor.
Kathleen, seated on the quilted blue divan, with Vinnie between her and her husband, had said very little, other than a cursory ‘Good evening, and thank you for having us.’ when she had been greeted by Michael, whom had welcomed her gallantly into his home.
Vylette, standing near the table of appetizers, a small, crystal cup of punch in her hands, surveyed the room silently.
Everyone else appeared so happy and at ease that evening.
Her little sister, outfitted in a beautiful floral frock that mimicked her own, leaned against their father, nibbling on shrimp salad crackers, from a little plate balanced on her lap.
Dr. Meraux, had been the complete opposite of his wife, smiling and engaging in conversation, since they had disbanded from the backseat of Marlon’s coupe.
Noshing on the cucumber boats of deviled ham, he was relaxed and as cool as that cucumber, wearing a brightly printed sweater vest over a white shirt and green tie.
His grey eyes wide behind the silver frames of his spectacles, Vylette had heard nothing but compliments about the home, saying the décor was ‘grand’ and ‘something out of the magazines’.
Not to mention an overwhelming thank you for the new appliances that had been installed in their home.
It was something she had seen Michael’s chest puff up with pride over and a look of thankfulness come into his eyes, as he replied that he’d been the one to decorate the entire home himself.
‘Our relatives left us an empty house…just the bare bones to work with, Sir.’
In an armchair to the side and across from his brother, Marlon, in shades of black and white, via an argyle sweater and trousers, puffed on a cigarette and laughed feely as he put in little fun comments to his brother and the doctor.
Seated on the arm of the chair, Lorraine was silent, but attentive, looking fresh and pretty in a pale green shantung frock, cut so low in the front it was nearly indecent, displaying a generous portion of her cleavage.
Jean Harlow would have been proud.
And then there was her mother.
Her mother would have looked so much more agreeable and sweet, if she’d have just smiled, even a little.
Vylette knew her mother was uncomfortable, sitting in the dead center of a lavish display of wealth.
All around them were expensive pieces of artwork, fine furniture and the best of everything else.
Tilting the glass to her mouth, Vylette simply couldn’t get her young mind to understand why her mother seemed to hate what the Jacksons had to offer--and didn’t mind freely sharing.
Why, they had already set up her Soup Kitchen for years to come, could provide all of them with anything they could ever want, and just that day, Michael was going to foot the bill to outfit the five Povah girls for the theatre openings.
And Michael had done it purely out the goodness of his heart. Not to show off, not to brag, not to give the impression he was better than folks because he had a few extra nickels to his name.
But because he was just a good person.
Marlon was too, even if he could be full of himself at times.
“…you’ll excuse, please…”
Across the room, Michael Jackson was rising from his chair, holding his own small plate, and advancing back over to the table.
“I liked those lanterns in the trees on the driveway. Did you make them yourself, or buy them somewhere?” Dr. Meraux asked, declining a cigarette offered him by Marlon.
Lighting up, Marlon was answering,
“Oh, we get them from a place in New York. Real Chinese folks put them together…any color you like…”
“How interesting!”
Michael, lingering over the pate de foie gras, lowered his hand, and covertly motioned Vylette over.
Swiftly, she was by his side, and apologizing,
“I’m terribly sorry about Mama, I didn’t think she’d be so antisocial--”
“Shhh, shhh!” Michael hissed, picking up a cracker and taking a bite out of it. “I’ll take care of it. I’ve got the whole thing sewn up right now…you’ll see.”
He assured her, having another bite, before setting his plate down.
“Excuse me!” He spoke out loud and all faces turned to him, including the frowning one.
“I’m aware we’re supposed be taking dinner shortly, and I know that fried chicken is calling my name for sure--”
Ripples of laughter shook the room,
“--but, if it’s not too much trouble, I would like to show you all the new addition that was put on. It’s a solarium that opens up to a swimming pool. Call me silly, but I’m just so glad about it, I wanted to show it to you before we sat down to eat.”
Vylette glanced up at the back of his curled head.
What on Earth would the showing of the new room have to do as far as the announcements of the engagements went.
“Shi--shucks, I had almost forgotten about that!” Marlon chuckled, leaping to his feet and taking Lorraine’s arm.
Everyone was rising, and briefly, Vylette saw her mother’s mouth move to her father, and a grimace appear on his face.
Michael’s arm was offered her and quickly, he took her to the front of the pack to lead the way.
As the group flooded out into the foyer and down the hall, to the left of the staircase, Vylette heard her mother complaining about Michael’s collection of sculptures.
“…all this nakedness Almanzo. It’s downright sinful! First the woman in the front hall, and now this! It’s--”
“Kathleen please! If these men want to have their statues, let them have them. You didn’t pay for them!” Her father retorted softly and Kathleen groaned, unable to forge an ally in her own husband.
Michael hearing the dispute, spoke up.
“I had to kind of rush the construction. You see, tomorrow, I’ll be having some relatives in and I knew they’d enjoy a pool and such things. Plus, I like swimming myself.”
They came to a small hallway, paneled in dark woods, and hanging with elegant tapestries depicting noblemen being knighted.
Elaborate bronze sconces lit the way in this hall Vylette had never entered before.
In the center of the hall a set of double doors stood closed.
The doors themselves were set with frosted glass, both inscribed with the word “Solarium” in fancy gold lettering.
Through the glass all was a multi-colored blur and Vylette’s heart pounded, wondering just what lay beyond those doors.
Going to them, Michael grabbed the crystal knobs.
“I hope you all like it as much as I do!” He declared and the doors were flung open.
“OH!”
A collective gasp escaped all there, as what could only be described as a wonderland was revealed to them.
Stepping inside, all were treated to a room encased mostly in glass and only the barest wood supports. All of the walls were practically windows, giving a nearly three hundred and sixty degree view of the veranda outside.
Many potted plants filled the room, offering lovely greenery and over head, the ceiling was made of colored glass, arranged into a breathtaking panoramic of florals, a babbling brook and a mountain range.
All around the room, several more nude figures, mostly of white marble and measuring a few feet in height adorned the far corners.
(Later, it would be explained to Vylette by Michael that each figure represented one of the seasons.)
It was almost like looking into the Kingdom of Heaven!
Electric lights lit the room, by the arrangement of three large crystal laden chandeliers.
There were several comfortable looking chairs and couches, upholstered in green brocade, and in step with all of the foliage.
Across the room, another set of French doors stood open, and a few yards beyond the back steps, a path led outwards towards the pool.
Everyone practically jumped over one another to get to the back porch, gazing in wonder at the pool.
In the night, it was lit by more Chinese lanterns, swaying in the treetops. The pool itself, even from so far away, could be seen to have been mosaic tiled in varying shades of blue, a regulation Olympic sized stunner, flanked on the four corner by elaborate white marble urns.
On the far end, a pair of deep blue lounges, with hoods to shield a person from the sun, sat, waiting to be used.
Why it was positively beautiful!
“It’s marvelous! Simply marvelous!”
“I can’t wait to go for dip in that, I bet it’s so refreshing!”
“A pool! Our very own pool! I don’t have to go to Jamison’s Pond anymore, Mama!”
“It still seems like too much to me!”
“Kathleen, please! God damn it!”
Vinnie, who had squeezed into the front of the mass, spun around to speak to Michael, grinning broadly.
“I can swim in it too? I’m a strong swimmer! Once at the Pond, Harriet Povah started to drown and I….”
Vylette heard her sister stop mid-sentence, and glanced down at her curiously.
Hand up, her sister was pushing Michael aside, staring at something back in the solarium.
Her eyes were huge and mouth starting to sag.
And suddenly, the child was bawling.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”
Face crumpling and going bright red, she began to howl and startled all those around her.
“Lavinia Rosalind, what on Earth is the matter?”
Kathleen rushed forward, grabbing the child, and clutching her shoulders was trying to make sense.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”
Vylette was helpless, looking, and felt a tap on her shoulder.
Michael was standing beside, grinning in spite of the shrieking.
“Child, answer me or I’ll spank you!”
“You won’t either, Kathleen!” Dr. Meraux interjected sternly.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”
Long hand up, Michael pointed.
Vylette looked to where he was indicating and a strained gasp left her.
On her other side, Lorraine, with tears streaming down her cheeks looked on silently, hands clutched to her bare bosom.
On either side of the double doors leading into the Solarium, a pair of oversized portraits hung.
They were the photographs the young couple had taken in New Orleans when in town to celebrate the girls’ birthdays.
In gorgeous, gilded frames, to the left a larger-than-life-sized, sepia-toned portrait of Michael and Vylette hung, Vylette with her back to Michael, his arms wrapped around her middle and both smiling brightly, with love in their eyes.
To the right, Marlon and Lorraine, embraced, facing one another, both looking serious and smoldering in their photograph.
But it wasn’t so much to the portraits that were garnering attention or causing young Vinnie to cry like an animal off to slaughter.
It was the banner that had been suspended between the two portraits, above the doorway that was causing the wailing.
Kathleen, catching sight of it for the first time, was making the sign of the cross over herself.
“Dear Jesus!” She cried, letting go of her younger daughter, and stumbled back into the room.
The sign, having been painted in somewhat sloppy lettering, proclaimed only two words, in bright red paint,
“We’re Engaged!”
“Engaged…engaged? You’re engaged…?” She whimpered, as slowly, the two couples entered, and Dr. Meraux had to scoop up the still weeping Vinnie.
“Both of you? Engaged to be married?”
“Yes, Aunt Kathleen!” Lorraine gushed, and held up her hand, displaying her emerald engagement ring.
Vylette did the same, showing off her pink diamond.
Both Michael and Marlon held on to the shoulders of their fiancées, beaming and glowing with loving pride.
“MY SISTER’S GETTING MARRIED! WAAAAAAHHHH!”
Vinnie shrieked, clinging to her father.
Kathleen’s hazel-ish eyes bugged at the baubles and her gaze went back and forth between her elder daughter and niece.
“Oh, Almanzo!” She was gripping at her throat, and losing color rapidly.
“My babies! My babies!” Was all she said before sinking to the floor in a heap.
“Mama! Aunt Kathleen! Oh shit!”
“Jesus Christ--Michael!” Dr. Meraux practically threw Vinnie into the arms of his soon-to-be son, and ran to his wife’s side.
As he patted at her cheek and called her name, Michael bounced Vinnie, her face buried in his shoulder.
“That actually went better than I expected…” Marlon declared with a snort and all turned to stare at him.
“What did you expect Daddy?” Lorraine demanded, rubbing carefully at her eyes.
“Oh, I don’t know, to be called some kind of Black Bastard or something or other--HA!” Marlon crowed, and the rest of the adults laughed while Vinnie sniffled.
Even on the floor, Dr. Meraux was smiling next to his unconscious wife.
Grinning, Vylette knew the worst was over, for the moment, and no matter what her mother may have said, once she came to, there was just no way she was going to convince her daughter to go in any other direction than off to being the second (and last) Mrs. Michael Jackson.