Rhine had agreed to have lunch with her and her mother. Out of disapproval with her rudeness, he would have preferred to drop her at the door and go on about his day, but when they reached her home, he stopped the buggy, came around and handed her down. “Are you still upset?” she asked, looking into his eyes.
“No.”
“Your eyes say something different.”
“Let’s go in. We don’t want to keep your mother waiting.”
Inside the spacious mansion, they handed their hats and gloves to the Chinese houseman and Natalie led Rhine into the dining room where her mother Beatrice sat waiting.
He walked over and kissed her cheek. “Good afternoon, Mrs.Greer.”
“Hello, Rhine. You survived the dress shop, I see.”
“I did,” he said distantly. After helping Natalie with her chair he took a seat.
Natalie said, “He’s upset.”
Beatrice, dressed in the finery befitting her station, looked between the two. “What happened?”
Natalie blew out a breath. “I didn’t speak to a little Colored cook at the dress shop, and he says I embarrassed him.”
Conversation stopped as the Chinese maid brought in their soup. Rhine nodded his thanks to the woman, and after she exited, he explained, “I reminded Natalie that once we marry we’ll be opening our home to people like MissCarmichael and that rudeness didn’t become her.”
“He’s right of course, Natalie.”
Natalie started in on her soup. “Having them in our home will be something I can’t avoid, but I don’t see why I have to acknowledge them publicly.”
Rhine tried to mask his annoyance but apparently failed.
“I’m simply being honest,” she said in defense. “I understand that you have a misguided fascination with them, and I’m willing to overlook it, but you should be just as tolerant of my lack of fascination.”
Rhine reminded himself that she was only twenty years old and that she’d led a sheltered, privileged life. That she didn’t seem to be bothered by her lack of charity didn’t sit well, however.
Her mother said, “Natalie, your father and I were staunch abolitionists, as were your grandparents. They even entertained the great Frederick Douglass himself, so I’m not sure where this stance of yours is rooted.”
“It’s rooted in my ability to form my own opinions, Mother.”
Beatrice must’ve seen the flash of disdain in Rhine’s eyes and added hastily, “An opinion I’m sure you’ll amend once you think long and hard about it.”
“We’ll see, but in the meantime this entire tempest in a teacup has given me a headache. I’m going to up my room and lie down.” She pushed back from the table and stood. “Rhine darling, I’ll see you later.”
He stood politely and watched her go.
When he retook his seat, Beatrice said, “I wouldn’t put much stock in this so called opinion of hers, Rhine. She has abolitionism in her blood. She’ll come to her senses.”
Because of her beauty, he thought she might be the wife for him and the mother of any children he might sire. Admittedly, his own shallowness caused him to use that as a standard and overlook Natalie’s lack of interest in anything but herself. She was stunning to look at—what more did he need? Now, he knew better and had no one to blame but himself. She didn’t read the newspapers, had no knowledge of national or world affairs, and after witnessing today’s rude behavior and listening to her attempt to justify it, he had more trouble seeing himself married to her. “Natalie and I may not be evenly yoked, Mrs.Greer.”
“Oh don’t be silly. As I said, she’ll come to her senses. I’ll have her father speak to her. By tomorrow this little matter will be water over the dam. You’ll see.”
“I’m not so sure. She’s been pressuring me to sell the saloon.”
“Honestly, I can see why she’s uncomfortable with your ownership, and it might help if you reconsidered her reasons. People have been whispering about your place since the day the doors opened. No wife wants to be the subject of gossips.”
Rhine offered a bitter chuckle. “Then maybe I should cry off, because I’m not selling the Union.”
She stiffened in reaction.
Rhine stood and inclined his head. “Thank you for the meal, Mrs.Greer. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He made his exit.