Grace had a towel in each hand to bring a hot pan out of the oven and a sense of pride washed over her. This was the first dish Josie had allowed her to make completely by herself. Anybody could make a meatloaf she'd said. So Grace had, using the verbal instructions Josie had given her, only she'd varied the spices a little.

"That's the best meatloaf I ever tasted in my life," Josie praised when she'd sampled a bite. "Maybe it's not just anybody who can make a meatloaf."

"Really?" She'd been helping for less than 2 weeks. She was getting more familiar around a kitchen. Cooking wasn't as much of a punishment as it could have been since she enjoyed it so much. It would have been worse to be working out in the fields.

"Take a bite for yourself," Josie said, holding out the spoon she'd used to sample it.

Grace used it to dig a small piece off the end. It was good.

"Yep, Master Christophe and Mistress Yvette going to be real pleased when they taste this and I'll let them know just who made it."

Grace practically glowed, but her joy didn't last long for Jon came in and said, "Mistress Yvette wants to see you."

Other than their first meeting, she hadn't had any interaction with her stepmother, Yvette went out of her way to avoid Grace and for that she was thankful. Whatever it was about, it couldn't be good. She'd done everything asked of her by Josie and her half siblings. Had they concocted some fictional story or complaint about her? She wouldn't put it past Violet.

Yvette waited out in the foyer. One look at her made Grace's insides feeling queasy, but she held her head up high and looked her stepmother square in the eye. She wasn't going to act guilty before she was even sentenced. "You wanted to see me?"

Yvette wore a mask of fury. Her rage barely allowing her to get out the words she wanted to say. "Mrs. Bellamy was by here today. She told me you were talking to the girl who escaped. One of her slave children saw you."

"I talked to a girl the other day, but I ain't seen her since." All of the words were true. "Why? Is she missing?"

"Don't play dumb with me. Your father might fall for you innocent act, but I don't. I know as sure as I'm standing here you had something to do with it."

"I really don't know what you're talking about."

"You're a filthy liar," she said, spittle flying from her mouth.

"I ain't a liar," she replied as calmly as she could. What she wished she could say to the woman instead. There was a whole slew of things she could call her.

"Something like this could ruin me socially, but you don't care, do you?"

Grace saw little chance of her losing any friends, considering she'd never seen any in all the time she'd been here, or no one had paid her any visits anyway unless you counted Mrs. Bellamy's visit and she'd never seen any invitations come to the house either. Though she supposed it was true that Yvette would be ostracized completely if it was found out that anyone in her household had helped in the escape.

"They got away last night. Jon swears you were doing dishes in the kitchen when all this was taking place. I've asked him to keep an even closer eye on you though. No telling what you'll try and steal. So what I want to know is how you managed it without getting caught?"

"You've answered your own question. How could I manage it?" she retorted, her tone had lost any pretense of respect. The woman in front of her hated her for her skin color and parentage, both of which she had no control over. It didn't matter what she did or didn't do.

"Why you little brat. Talking back to me."

"You asked a question," Grace argued.

Yvette was suddenly pushing her backwards toward the foot of the stairs that went up to the second floor; she shoved her into the storage space under the stairs and then slammed the door shut.

"Let's see if some time in there will mend you of your uppity ways," Yvette said from the other side of the door. "We'll find out if it'll loosen your tongue."

There was no knob on this side for her to let herself out. She could scream, but her screams would be muffled. And no slave would dare let her out. She would have to depend upon Sister Ruth, Kid Cole, or her father hearing her in this big house and Ruth and Kid were still at the revival. Not to mention, yelling would only serve to make Yvette angrier and who knew what the insane woman would decide to do next.

She sank to the dusty, dirty floor. She didn't even brush off the cobwebs she felt get into her hair as she slid against the wall.

All the time in the world wouldn't make her reveal to Yvette how the Coles had been involved. She was almost glad she was being blamed. Yvette would no doubt run them off if she knew what they'd done and she'd lose her only friends here. They must have gotten back to the house and situated long before sunup, not to have aroused the least bit of suspicion.

As proud as she was of her meatloaf, she was even prouder that she'd gotten help for Mazy and her family and she didn't regret it. Sister Ruth would probably say that it was why God had allowed her current circumstances, but was this her reward for being faithful? Maybe she should have taken Mazy up on her offer to leave with them.