That's her favorite story cause when I tell it, she get two presents. I take the brown wrapping from my Piggly Wiggly grocery bag and wrap up a little something, like piece a candy, inside. Then I use the white paper from my Cole's Drug Store bag and wrap another one just like it. She take it real serious, the unwrapping, letting me tell the story bout how it ain't the color a the wrapping that count, it's what we is inside.

"We doing a different story today," I say, but first I go still and listen, just to make sure Miss Leefolt ain't coming back cause she forgot something. Coast is clear.

"Today I'm on tell you bout a man from outer s.p.a.ce." She just loves hearing about peoples from outer s.p.a.ce. Her favorite show on the tee-vee is My Favorite Martian. My Favorite Martian. I pull out my antennae hats I shaped last night out a tinfoil, fasten em on our heads. One for her and one for me. We look like we a couple a crazy people in them things. I pull out my antennae hats I shaped last night out a tinfoil, fasten em on our heads. One for her and one for me. We look like we a couple a crazy people in them things.

"One day, a wise Martian come down to Earth to teach us people a thing or two," I say.

"Martian? How big?"

"Oh, he about six-two."

"What's his name?"

"Martian Luther King."

She take a deep breath and lean her head down on my shoulder. I feel her three-year-old heart racing against mine, flapping like b.u.t.terflies on my white uniform.

"He was a real nice Martian, Mister King. Looked just like us, nose, mouth, hair up on his head, but sometime people looked at him funny and sometime, well, I guess sometime people was just downright mean."

I could get in a lot lot a trouble telling her these little stories, especially with Mister Leefolt. But Mae Mobley know these our "secret stories." a trouble telling her these little stories, especially with Mister Leefolt. But Mae Mobley know these our "secret stories."

"Why Aibee? Why was they so mean to him?" she ask.

"Cause he was green."

TWO TIMES THIS MORNING, Miss Leefolt's phone rung and two times I missed it. Once cause I was chasing Baby Girl nekkid in the backyard and another cause I was using the bathroom in the garage and what with Miss Leefolt being three--yes, three three--weeks late to have this baby, I don't expect her to run for no phone. But I don't expect her to snap at me cause I couldn't get there, neither. Law, I should a known when I got up this morning.

Last night Miss Skeeter and I worked on the stories until a quarter to midnight. I am bone tired, but we done finished number eight and that means we still got four more to go. January tenth be the deadline and I don't know if we gone make it.

It's already the third Wednesday a October, so it's Miss Leefolt's turn to host bridge club. It's all changed up now that Miss Skeeter been thrown out. It's Miss Jeanie Caldwell, the one who call everybody honey, and Miss Lou Anne who replaced Miss Walter, and everybody's real polite and stiff and they just agree with each other for two hours. They ain't much fun listening to anymore.

I'm pouring the last ice tea when the doorbell go ding-dong. ding-dong. I get to the door real quick, show Miss Leefolt I ain't as slow as she accused me a being. I get to the door real quick, show Miss Leefolt I ain't as slow as she accused me a being.

When I open it, the first word that pop in my head is pink. pink. I never even seen her before but I've had enough conversations with Minny to know it's her. Cause who else around here gone fit extra-large bosoms in a extra-small sweater? I never even seen her before but I've had enough conversations with Minny to know it's her. Cause who else around here gone fit extra-large bosoms in a extra-small sweater?

"h.e.l.lo there," she say, licking her lipsticky lips. She raise her hand out to me and I think she giving me something. I reach out to take whatever it is and she give me a funny little handshake.

"My name is Celia Foote and I am here to see Miss Elizabeth Leefolt, please."

I'm so mesmerized by all that pink, it takes a few seconds to hit me how bad this could turn out for me. And Minny. It was a long time ago, but that lie stuck.

"I . . . she . . ." I'd tell her n.o.body's home but the bridge table's five feet behind me. I look back and all four a them ladies is staring at the door with they mouths open like they catching flies. Miss Caldwell whisper something to Miss Hilly. Miss Leefolt stagger up, slap on a smile.

"h.e.l.lo, Celia," Miss Leefolt say. "It's certainly been a long time."

Miss Celia clears her throat and says kind a too loud, "h.e.l.lo, Elizabeth. I'm calling on you today to--" Her eyes flicker back to the table where the other ladies is setting.

"Oh no, I'm interrupting. I'll just . . . I'll come on back. Another time."

"No, no, what can I do for you?" Miss Leefolt say.

Miss Celia takes a deep breath in that tight pink skirt and for a second I guess we all think she gone pop.

"I'm here to offer my help for the Children's Benefit."

Miss Leefolt smile, say, "Oh. Well, I . . ."

"I got a real knack for arranging flowers, I mean, everybody back in Sugar Ditch said so, even my maid said so, right after she said I'm the worst cook she's ever laid eyes on." She giggle at this a second and I suck in my breath at the word maid. maid. Then she snap back to serious. "But I can address things and lick stamps and--" Then she snap back to serious. "But I can address things and lick stamps and--"

Miss Hilly get up from the table. She lean in, say, "We really don't need any more help, but we'd be delighted if you and Johnny would attend the Benefit, Celia."

Miss Celia smile and look so grateful it'd break anybody's heart. Who had one.

"Oh thank you," she say. "I'd love love to." to."

"It's on Friday night, November the fifteenth at the--"

"--the Robert E. Lee Hotel," Miss Celia finish. "I know all about it."

"We'd love to sell you some tickets. Johnny'll be coming with you, won't he? Go get her some tickets, Elizabeth."

"And if there's anything I can do to help--"

"No, no." Hilly smile. "We've got it all taken care of."

Miss Leefolt come back with the envelope. She fish out a few tickets, but then Miss Hilly take the envelope away from her.

"While you're here, Celia, why don't you buy some tickets for your friends?"

Miss Celia be frozen for a second. "Um, alright."

"How about ten? You and Johnny and eight friends. Then you'd have a whole table."

Miss Celia smiling so hard it starts to tremble. "I think just the two will be fine."

Miss Hilly take out two tickets and hand the envelope back to Miss Leefolt, who goes in the back to put it away.

"Lemme just get my check writ out. I'm lucky I have this big ole thing with me today. I told my maid Minny I'd pick up a hambone for her in town."

Miss Celia struggle to write that check on her knee. I stay still as I can, hoping to G.o.d Miss Hilly didn't hear what she just said. She hand the check to her but Miss Hilly all wrinkled up, thinking.

"Who? Who'd you say your maid was?"

"Minny Jackson. Aw! Shoot." Miss Celia pop her hand over her mouth. "Elizabeth made me swear I'd never tell she recommended her and here I am blabbing my mouth off."

"Elizabeth . . . recommended Minny Jackson?"

Miss Leefolt come back in from the bedroom. "Aibileen, she's up. Go on and get her now. I can't lift a nail file with my back."

I go real quick to Mae Mobley's room but soon as I peek in, Mae Mobley's done fallen asleep again. I rush back to the dining room. Miss Hilly's shutting the front door closed.

Miss Hilly set down, looking like she just swallowed the cat that ate the canary.

"Aibileen," Miss Leefolt say, "go on and get the salads ready now, we're all waiting."

I go in the kitchen. When I come back out, the salad plates is rattling like teeth on the serving tray.

". . . mean the one who stole all your mama's silver and . . ."

". . . thought everybody in town knew that Nigra was a thief . . ."

". . . I'd never in a million years recommend . . ."

". . . you see what she had on? Who does she . . ."

"I'm going to figure this out if it kills me," Miss Hilly say.

MINNY.

chapter 24.

I'M AT THE KITCHEN sink waiting for Miss Celia to come home. The rag I've been pulling on is in shreds. That crazy woman woke up this morning, squoze into the tightest pink sweater she has, which is saying something, and hollered, "I'm going to Elizabeth Leefolt's. Right now, while I got the nerve, Minny." Then she drove off in her Bel Aire convertible with her skirt hanging out the door.

I was just jittery until the phone rang. Aibileen was hiccupping she was so upset. Not only did Miss Celia tell the ladies that Minny Jackson is working for her, she informed them that Miss Leefolt was the one who "recommended" me. And that was all the story Aibileen heard. It'll take those cackling hens about five minutes to figure this out.

So now, I have to wait. Wait to find out if, Number One, my best friend in the entire world gets fired for getting me a job. And Number Two, if Miss Hilly told Miss Celia those lies that I'm a thief. And Number Two and a half, if Miss Hilly told Miss Celia how I got back at her for telling those lies that I'm a thief. I'm not sorry for the Terrible Awful Thing I done to her. But now that Miss Hilly put her own maid in jail to rot, I wonder what that lady's going to do to me.

It's not until ten after four, an hour past my time to leave, that I see Miss Celia's car pull in. She jiggles up the walk like she's got something to say. I hitch up my hose.

"Minny, it's so late!" she yells.

"What happened with Miss Leefolt?" I'm not even trying to be coy. I want to know.

"Go, please! Johnny's coming home any minute." She's pushing me to the washroom where I keep my things.

"We'll talk tomorrow," she says, but for once, I don't want to go home, I want to hear what Miss Hilly said about me. Hearing your maid's a thief is like hearing your kid's teacher's a twiddler. You don't give them the benefit of the doubt, you just get the h.e.l.l rid of em.

But Miss Celia won't tell me anything. She's shooing me out so she can keep up her charade, so twisted it's like kudzu. Mister Johnny knows about me. Miss Celia knows Mister Johnny knows about me. But Mister Johnny doesn't know that Miss Celia knows he knows. And because of that ridiculousness, I have to leave at four-oh-ten and worry about Miss Hilly for the entire night.

THE NEXT MORNING BEFORE WORK, Aibileen calls my house.

"I call poor f.a.n.n.y early this morning cause I know you been stewing about it all night." Poor f.a.n.n.y's Miss Hilly's new maid. Ought to call her Fool f.a.n.n.y for working there. "She heard Miss Leefolt and Miss Hilly done decided you made the whole recommendation thing up so Miss Celia would give you the job."

Whew. I let out a long breath. "Glad you ain't gone get in trouble," I say. Still, now Miss Hilly calling me a liar I let out a long breath. "Glad you ain't gone get in trouble," I say. Still, now Miss Hilly calling me a liar and and a thief. a thief.

"Don't you worry bout me," Aibileen says. "You just keep Miss Hilly from talking to your boss lady."

When I get to work, Miss Celia's rushing out to go buy a dress for the Benefit next month. She says she wants to be the first person in the store. It's not like the old days when she was pregnant. Now she can't wait to get out the door.

I stomp out to the backyard and wipe down the lawn chairs. The birds all twitter up in a huff when they see me coming, making the camellia bush rattle. Last spring Miss Celia was always nagging at me to take those flowers home. But I know camellias. You bring a bunch inside, thinking how it's so fresh it looks like it's moving and as soon as you go down for a sniff, you see you've brought an army full of spider mites in the house.

I hear a stick break, then another, behind the bushes. I p.r.i.c.kle inside, hold still. We're out in the middle of nowhere and n.o.body would hear us call for miles. I listen, but I don't hear anything else. I tell myself it's just the old dregs of waiting for Mister Johnny. Or maybe I'm paranoid because I worked with Miss Skeeter last night on the book. I'm always jittery after talking to her.

Finally, I go back to cleaning pool chairs, picking up Miss Celia's movie magazines and tissues the slob leaves out here. The phone rings inside. I'm not supposed to answer the phone what with Miss Celia trying to keep up the big fat lie with Mister Johnny. But she's not here and it might be Aibileen with more news. I go inside, lock the door behind me.

"Miss Celia residence." Lord, I hope it's not Miss Celia calling.

"This is Hilly Holbrook speaking. Who is this?"

My blood whooshes down from my hair to my feet. I'm an empty, bloodless sh.e.l.l for about five seconds.

I lower my voice, make it deep like a stranger. "This Doreena. Miss Celia's help." Doreena? Why I use my sister's name! Doreena? Why I use my sister's name!

"Doreena. I thought Minny Jackson was Miss Foote's maid."

"She . . . quit."

"Is that right? Let me speak to Missus Foote."

"She . . . out a town. Down at the coast. For a--a--" My mind's pedaling a thousand miles an hour trying to come up with details.

"Well, when is she coming back?"

"Looong time."

"Well, when she gets back, you tell her I called. Hilly Holbrook, Emerson three sixty-eight forty?"

"Yes ma'am. I tell her." In about a hundred years.

I hold on to the counter edge, wait for my heart to stop hammering. It's not that Miss Hilly can't find me. I mean, she could just look up Minny Jackson on Tick Road in the phone book and get my address. And it's not like I couldn't tell Miss Celia what happened, tell her I'm not a thief. Maybe she'd believe me after all. But it's the Terrible Awful that ruins it all.

Four hours later, Miss Celia walks in with five big boxes stacked on top of each other. I help her tote them back to her bedroom and then I stand very still outside her door to hear if she'll call up the society ladies like she does every day. Sure enough, I hear her pick up the phone. But she just hangs it back up again. The fool's listening for the dial tone again, in case someone tries to call.

EVEN THOUGH IT'S THE third week of October, the summer beats on with the rhythm of a clothes dryer. The gra.s.s in Miss Celia's yard is still a full-blown green. The orange dahlias are still smiling drunk up at the sun. And every night, the d.a.m.n mosquitoes come out for their blood hunt, my sweat pads went up three cents a box, and my electric fan is broke dead on my kitchen floor.

On this October morning, three days after Miss Hilly called, I walk into work half an hour early. I've got Sugar seeing the kids to school. The coffee grinds go in the fancy percolator, the water goes in the pot. I lean my bottom against the counter. Quiet. It's what I've been waiting for all night long.

The Frigidaire picks up a hum where it left off. I put my hand on it to feel its vibration.

"You're awful early, Minny."