A Sharecropper Christmas_Christmas Holiday Extravaganza by Carlene Havel

Author:Carlene Havel [Havel, Carlene]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Christian Fiction
ISBN: 9781940099224
Publisher: Pelican Book Group
Published: 2016-12-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

James ran to the backyard. “Mama, somebody’s here,” he said. “Two people in a car. A man and a woman.”

Alice put the last of the eggs into her bucket. “I’ll be there directly.” She scattered some chicken feed and went to the front of the house.

“Good morning,” the man in the black suit said from the window of the Model T Ford. “I’m Jeremiah Sweeney. My daughter, Eunice Martin. We are looking for Mr. Shoemaker.”

“I’m Mrs. Shoemaker. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Won’t you come inside?” she asked. James ran his hand over the Ford’s rear bumper, while David disappeared under the house.

“Thank you,” Eunice Martin said. “Come with me, Papa.” The feathers on her stylish hat bounced as she climbed out of the automobile. “All right, now, take my hand and step out on the running board.”

“I’m coming as fast as I can,” Sweeney rasped. “I have some papers for your husband to sign, Mrs. Shoemaker.”

“Yes, sir,” Alice replied. “James, go and fetch your father. Tell him Mr. Sweeney wants to see him here at the house right away. Hurry, now.”

Without a backward glance, James took off running.

Eunice slowly led her father up the steps, across the porch, and into the house. Even though the door was open, Alice hurried to hold it while Mr. Sweeney and his daughter went inside.

The green gabardine of Eunice Martin’s elegant dress was a stark contrast to the colorless interior of Alice’s home. Pulling a kitchen chair away from the table, Alice motioned to it and said, “Please make yourselves comfortable.” She wished she had phrased her welcome some other way, because she could not imagine how two such finely-dressed people could be at ease in these surroundings. The newsprint wallpaper she was so proud of applying now served as a source of acute embarrassment. What must these high-class folk think of the headlines and ads adorning every wall?

After maneuvering her father to a chair, Eunice sat and smoothed her skirts. Perhaps she did not think the papered walls were unusual, since she seemed not to notice them. Mr. Sweeney felt the table’s surface and then placed a packet of papers there. “Danged lawyers,” he complained. “Make me get everything in writing.”

“Papa’s attorney wants him to have a signed contract for all of the farmers who work on shares,” Eunice explained.

“May I offer you some fresh buttermilk?” Alice asked. “I just finished churning.”

Eunice’s eyes seemed to rest on the patched spot on the bib of Alice’s apron. “No, thank you anyway. We—”

“Speak for yourself, Eunice!” Mr. Sweeney said. “I’d love some fresh buttermilk. Haven’t had any in a coon’s age.”

Alice quickly fetched her landlord his drink. She had no idea how to entertain high society people, uncertain whether she should continue with her chores or sit at the table with her guests. Should she invite them to stay for dinner the way she would ordinary folks? She wished Herbert would arrive and clear up his business with Mr. Sweeney.

After a short silence, Eunice said, “I didn’t know you had chickens at this farm, Papa.

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