Babylon Sisters by Pearl Cleage Read Free Book Online Page B

they possibly want with me?
    Before I had a chance to speculate further, the elevator’s mirrored doors opened and a short, bald man in a beautiful pin-striped suit was standing there smiling like he was so happy to see me, he could barely contain the joy.
    “Ms. Sanderson,” he said, coming forward and holding out his hand in greeting. “It is a pleasure. I’m Sam Hall.”
    The voice was the one I had heard on the phone, all right, but none of my mental speculation had led me to picture Sam as a short, slightly round, clean-shaven guy with a very expensive suit and a very firm handshake.
    “Welcome to Mandeville Maid Services,” he said. “You just passed your first test.”
    “And what test was that?”
    “You arrived on time,” he said. “You’d be amazed at how many people are careless about it. Five minutes here. Ten minutes there. It adds up, and that’s not how we do business.”
    This woman must be a real terror.
    “The renovation is lovely,” I said.
    “Thank you. Now will you follow me? Miss Mandeville is really looking forward to talking with you.”
    He led me down a short, heavily carpeted hallway that ended at two oversize oak doors. He knocked softly, and a buzzer deactivated the lock with a click. Her level of security surprised me, but I guess it shouldn’t have. These are dangerous times. Sam pushed open one of the big doors and moved aside to let me pass.
    I stepped into a large, very formal-looking room that had an imposing cherrywood desk at one end, and at the other a dining table elaborately set for two that could easily seat six. In between was an area made for more casual conversation, with two love seats facing each other, a couple of wing-back chairs, and an oversize throne-looking thing that was sprayed antique gold and upholstered with tufted red velvet. It looked like a child’s idea of a chair fit for a queen, and Ezola Mandeville was sitting in it as I stepped into her office.
    She stood up and smiled pleasantly, although she didn’t come forward to greet us. Sam closed the door and walked with me over to where she was standing. She looked as intimidating as her photographs. Maybe more so.
Fierce
might be a better word to describe her. She probably wasn’t much taller than I was, but it wasn’t about height. There was a real presence, an almost palpable strength, rolling off her in waves. I couldn’t imagine trying to tell her no.
    As she stood there majestically, in front of her unapologetic throne, I was aware of her strong arms and hands that ended in short, thick fingers and nails shaped square for efficiency, not fashion. She was rangy, but not thin. Her broad, dark brown face was clean of makeup and dominated by her small but expressive eyes and high, sharp cheekbones. Her mouth was full-lipped and firm, and her hair was twisted into a bun, pinned tightly at the back of her head. A plain dark blue linen dress with a single strand of pearls and a pair of low-heeled pumps completed her outfit by doing nothing to draw attention to themselves. When you saw Ezola Mandeville, you remembered her, not her clothes.
    “Miss Mandeville,” Sam said. “I would like to present Ms. Catherine Sanderson.”
    “Thank you for coming,” Ezola said, shaking my hand with a grip as firm as Sam’s, although her voice was surprisingly light, almost girlish. Neither one of them looked at all the way they sounded. It was like meeting a popular radio deejay and realizing that he was a lot closer in appearance to Biz Markie than Wesley Snipes.
    “It’s an honor to meet you,” I said. “I’m a great admirer of your work.”
    “I’m so happy to hear it. That’ll make my job that much easier. Please sit down.” She indicated the chair closest to the throne and I took it. It wasn’t until I sat down that I realized how much lower my chair was than Ezola’s. She was giving Sam instructions in the crisp way of someone who is used to saying things one time and one time only. Sam was