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walked past her out the door.
    “Sorry, missus,” she said to my aunt as she dragged our trunk to the darkened entryway, “my innards was galled and all.”
    “Lazy and sick, what good are you then?” My aunt said, putting her hand on my head.
    “She’s tall, this girl.” She whisked off my cloak and glanced down at my droopy mourning dress. “I hope she brought some decent, light colored clothing.” And as an afterthought, she muttered, “Oh, the black dress, of course, Summoner, I’d forgotten about your wife’s passing. I’m sorry about, uh, Joanie.”
    “Jenny!” I yelled. “Her name was Jenny! Jenny Aurelia O’Dell Bradford!”
    Papa grabbed my arm. “Hush up.”
    I felt so angry that his sister didn’t even know Mama’s name that I felt like racing out into the night, then and there. I glowered, my head down.
    “She must have left her manners on the train, eh?” my aunt said.
    I was so tired, and so overwhelmed at the thought of staying with this cold aunt of mine, that I swayed and almost fainted.
    “Summoner! This child is near a swoon.” My aunt pulled me through the hall into a big kitchen with a cook stove piled with pots and skillets, all under a wide fire. Nellie was wiping sweat from her face with a red and yellow patterned kerchief. She was murmuring softly to a chicken that was nibbling cracked corn from her hand.
    “That’s supper, not a pet, am I right?” Aunt Salome scolded. “Of course I am. And Nellie! Biscuits and beef in a hurry. This child is near passed out from hunger.”
    “I’m not a child,” I said again, standing as straight as I could in spite of an aching in my bones.
    Aunt Salome scowled at me. “Well excuse me then, Miss Sassy.”
    My father shushed me again. “Madeline is fifteen, Salome,” he said.
    “And still growing, I expect. Does she eat a lot?” my aunt asked, feeling my ribs.
    “Ain’t got no biscuits, missus; they won’t be none ’til morning,” Nellie said. With that, she plucked a slab of beef from the serving plate, slathered it with juices, and peered hard at me. “Eat, Miss,” she said, holding out the same to my father. Her eyes were grave, a mellow golden-brown, with a broad, flared-nostril African nose. She carried herself proudly, in spite of her station.
    “Thank you, ma’am,” my father said.
    “All right then, suh,” Nellie answered, backing away, as though his respectful tone scorched her. “Thank you, suh.” She reached into the chicken’s cage, stroked his head once, and twisted its neck really fast. The dying chicken flopped and flapped around until it landed on my foot. I started sobbing, and heading for the door. Sure I’d seen chickens killed before, but that night, the sight of the poor bird made all my sadness burst out.
    My father followed me, trying to wipe away my tears with his hand.
    But as though my tears were just a passing rain shower and with no words of comfort at all, my aunt showed us to our room.
    “I’ll leave you to your rest,” she said, handing me a handkerchief. “Put it in the laundry pile after you’ve used it. I’ve got to go pick up all the cushions in the parlor. Seems I’ve lost my wedding band, and Lord knows my departed husband paid a good sum for it.”
    “It’s by the hat stand, just to the left of the big plant,” I said, blowing my nose really loudly . . . on purpose.
    “What? Where is it, and how . . .?” My aunt’s mouth hung open.
    “I saw a glint of gold as we were coming upstairs, ma’am. If you look, you’ll find it there.”
    My father stared straight ahead. Maybe he was waiting for me to say just how many flowers there were on my aunt’s faded rose wallpaper, or have another burst of crying. I didn’t say anything more. I knew better.
    “Thank you,” my aunt said stiffly. “I hope you are right. I was going to look for the ring in Nellie’s room, just off the kitchen. I thought maybe she filched it, not that she’s tried anything crafty like that