Trudy and Ms. Sinclair wore knee length black dresses with white frilly collars and aprons, rubber shoes with inch thick soles, management thought they’d help with back pain.
Jobs were scarce in Gulfport. The ladies did what they could to provide for their children.
“I was up past midnight stirring the pot.” Ms. Sinclair groaned, hand on her hip.
“This cart just keeps getting heavier; linens, bleach, soap, toilet paper, and do they expect we leave these on the pillow.” Ms. Sinclair held a melted chocolate wrapped in tinfoil.
They laughed.
From sunup, the heat had no mercy.
Trudy brushed by, taking the cart, pushing it to the next room.
“Heavier, maybe, but we’re older……. Look coming here.” Trudy pointed towards the courtyard.
“Y’all get out there, sell them praline candies, two dollars apiece.” Mrs. Sinclair hollered down to her kids. “Junior, keep an eye on Fancy. Her daddy’s still at the bar, too drunk to keep her.”
“Yes ma’am.” Junior said.
“Charles is good for nothing, got my kids working in the heat to make a dime.” Ms. Sinclair scoffed.
“Not many of them are……worth anything.” Trudy raised her eyebrows.
They pulled the dirty sheets off the bed. Ms. Sinclair stopped to fan with a breakfast menu left on the nightstand. “I don’t know why these folks want to sleep in an antebellum home. Haven’t they heard the ghost stories.” Ms. Sinclair sat down; her bones popped.
Trudy finished the bed.
“I made a special piece of candy for Charles, poured some antifreeze in his batch. I plan to kill him.”
Trudy kept working and laughed. “Oh, Ms. Sinclair, you’re not killing Charles.”
“Who ain’t? Took a policy out three years ago. While I’m at it, probably going to tell Mr. Devereaux to take this job and shove it.”
Leesa Writes 