huh?"

"Noble is hardly a baby," Mama said. "He has many important responsibilities on the farm and he carries them out efficiently."

Betsy didn't look at her. She kept her eyes on me. I felt like a deer caught in the headlights and looked quickly to Mama.

"Noble." She nodded toward Betsy. Her expression urged me to greet her, "Hi," I said.

"Welcome."

"Yes, that's right. We want to welcome you.

Betsy," Mama said with a waxy smile. "and show you where your new room will be."

"New." she spit disdainfully. She gazed about her. "This is hardly what I would call new. It's probably older than the dump we have now."

"As a matter of fact it is," Mama said, undaunted. "And it has lots more history to it as "Whoop-de-do," Betsy said. "We're moving into a museum. That's just great."

Her father was glaring at her with such anger and distaste, I thought he might just swing out and strike her squarely in the center of that disrespectful smirk. Instead, he pulled back on the reins of his temper and smiled at Mama.

"Showing Betsy around would be very nice of you. Sarah. Thank you."

"Why can't I just stay in our home until it's sold?" Betsy moaned.

"We've been through this. Betsy," Mr. Fletcher said through his clenched teeth. "I've got the furniture placed and I want the house kept immaculate for real estate showings. As a matter of fact. Sarah" a" he turned back to Mama a" "we've got a showing tomorrow. A couple from New York City who are looking for a vacation spot, weekends and summer.

They are already interested from just riding by."

"Some vacation they'll have in that rat tap,"

Betsy said. and turned to me to get some agreement. I didn't change expression, which tightened her lips and sent her looking elsewhere. She folded her arms across her breasts again and looked as if she had planted her feet in cement.

"Well, we've all got to learn how to appreciate the little we have," Mama said. "What you think is a rat trap might look like a palace to the couple coming to view it."

"A palace?" Betsy laughed. "They'd have to be comin' a from a slum."

"Your father actually fixed that old home up very nicely." Mama insisted, "So then maybe we should stay there," Betsy retorted. She was not going to be intimidated easily, not even under Mama's cold eyes and controlled fury.

Mama simply stared at her a moment, then turned and smiled at Mr. Fletcher. "Shall we take the tour?"

"Please." He reached out to take Betsy's arm, but she pulled back, glanced at me, and reluctantly followed them through the hallway, stopping at the living room.

"Who plays the piano?" Betsy asked.

"Sarah, and she plays beautifully,"

"You mean Noble isn't efficient at that?" Betsy asked with a laugh. No one responded.

"Daddy hasn't stopped talking about all you do." she told me.

"And none of it is an exaggeration," Mr.

Fletcher said, nodding at me.

Betsy raised her eves toward the ceiling "My father was always quicker at finding the good things in other people's children than he was in me or my brothel..."

"Betsy!"

"Forget it," she said with a shrug. "Let's continue the tour."

They looked in at the dining room and she complained that theirs was bigger and they at least had a nice big window.

"This is like having to eat in a railroad car," she muttered loud enough for all to hear. "Hardly," Mama said. "And I'm sure you'll have better meals than you've had lately." "I second that," Mr. Fletcher said.

"I've had some of the best meals of my life here."

Betsy had no interest in looking at the kitchen, but they stopped there anyway before they headed up the stairs to the bedrooms. As they ascended, Betsy deliberately shook the balustrade, taking pleasure in how it rattled in places.

"Janitor boy," she called down to me, "you had better fix this efficiently or someone might just break it and fall, and we don't want any more accidents, now do we?"

I felt myself redden.

"Betsy," her father snapped, and she continued on, a laugh trailing behind her like a ribbon of disdain.

When they all reached the second floor. I heard Baby Celeste call out. She had waken from her nap. It was as if a whip had been snapped right in front of my eyes. I hurried up the stairs, holding my breath. What would Betsy say the moment she set eyes on Baby Celeste? Would she see Elliot and therefore just assume as did the rest of the community that her father was actually Baby Celeste's father?

I reached the top just as Mama was carrying Baby Celeste out to introduce to Betsy. As always.

Baby Celeste gave someone new a big, warm smile.

"Celeste," Mama said. "this is Betsy. She's going to come live with us and be your new big sister.

Isn't that nice?"

"Betsy," Baby Celeste pronounced perfectly.

Mr. Fletcher laughed.

Betsy simply stared at her, her expression unchanging. Then she turned to me and her eyes darkened for a moment. I was still holding my breath.

"Which room is mine?" Betsy asked Mama.

"You're right here. dear," Mama said, stepping to the right and opening the door.

I was surprised myself at how much Mama had done to the room. There were new white window curtains and the queen-size bed with the embossed rose on its headboard had a beautiful pink-and-white comforter and large, fluffy pillows. Unbeknownst to me was the placing of new dark pink carpet on the floor, part of what had been done while Baby Celeste and I were hiding in the turret room. I was actually somewhat jealous of the improvements. This room had a vanity table and a mirror as well. Mama had brought down standing lamps from the attic, and a large hickory-wood chest stood at the foot of the bed.

I had always wanted that chest in my room. but Mama had told me it had once belonged to her grandmother and the scent of her body powders was still in it.

"It's not the sort of furniture for a young man,"

she had said.

"Beautiful room. Betsy," her father said. "Much nicer than the one you have now. isn't it?"

"No. Its smaller. and besides, I'll be sleeping right next to a baby's room. I"ll hear her whine all the time."

"Baby Celeste doesn't whine," Mama said sharply.

"Why do you refer to her as Baby Celeste instead of just Celeste?" Betsy demanded instantly.

Actually, she pounced.

"It's just a habit," Mama said, obviously stumbling on her answer.

Betsy didn't seem to care what the answer was.

"Where"s your room?" she asked me as if she thought I had a better arrangement. "Right there." I nodded at the opened doorway behind her and across the hall.

She glanced at it and shook her head. "'Where's that stairway go?" She nodded toward the short stairway that led up to the turret room. "That looks far enough away,"

"That goes to a storage room." Mama replied dryly. "And it's not a place to loiter in, much less use as a bedroom."

"Who would want to loiter anywhere around here?" Betsy shot back.

Mama looked to be counting to ten. Then she smiled again. "Noble, would you take the baby out for a while. She could use some air."

"I'll bet. We could all use some air." Betsy remarked. "It smells in here."

"Betsy!" Mr. Fletcher cried.

"Well, it does. You burn that incense or something all the time., don't you?" she asked Mama.

"Yes, but from what I understand, you haven't been sleeping in the sweetest-smelling places anyway, dear. I'm sure you'll get used to it."

Betsy looked at her father. "Thanks a lot, Dad. I can just imagine the stories you've told about me."

I took Baby Celeste into my arms and started down the stairs.

"I'm going out. too," I heard Betsy say. She followed me down and out the door.

I set Baby Celeste down on the porch floor and she went right for one of her dolls she had left in the rocking chair.

"You're still not going to public school. right?"

Betsy asked.

She went to the railing and sat against it, putting her hands on it and straightening her shoulders. It brought up her breasts. I glanced at her, then looked at Baby Celeste, who had climbed into the rocking chair and held the doll in her lap just the way Mama and I often held her, "No. I got my high school equivalency two years ago."

"So what are you going to do, babysit for the rest of your life?"

"No. I don't babysit," I said sharply. "I help out once in a while, that's all."

"Sure. 'Take the baby out. She needs some air,"'

Betsy mocked, then laughed, "You still don't have any real friends, do you?"

I didn't reply.

"What do you do for fun? Plant frees or something?" "There is a lot to do here. I'm busy. And I read."

She shook her head. "This is really the boondocks."

"Why did you come back if you hate it so much?" I fired at her.

"I won't stay long. I have to warm up to Daddy a bit. you know. Be nice and cooperative until he gives me some money and I can leave."

"To where?"

"Anywhere but here. What did your mother do to get him to want to marry her, cast one of her spells over him or something?"

"She doesn't cast spells."

"Elliot used to believe she did. He told me about you."

The mention of Elliot brought the blood up my neck and warmed my cheeks so fast I had to turn away from her and look at Baby Celeste.

"Rock." she said, "Rock me. Noble."

I started to rock the chair gently and she hugged her doll and looked up at Betsy. "How old is that kid?"

"She'll be three," I said.

"She has hair like Elliot. How long's my father been poking around this place?" I didn't reply.

"Is she my sister or not?'' she came right out and asked.

"No. She's my cousin. Her parents were a""

"Yeah. yeah. I know the fairy tale, I'm asking you for the truth."

"That's the truth."

"Fine." She looked about the farm. "I can't believe my father is actually going to go through with this. He wants to live here. He might as well check into a retirement home or something."

"This is a beautiful place to live."

She curled her lips and stepped away from the railing. "You have a cigarette?"

"No. I don't smoke."