“I most certainly am

“I most certainly am.” Hilly walks up the front steps, head held high.
I follow quickly behind Hilly to the front door. She opens it and walks in like it’s her own house.
“Hilly, I did not invite you in here,” I say, grabbing her arm. “You get—”
But then Mother appears from around the corner and I drop my hand.
“Why, Hilly,” Mother says. She is in her bathrobe and her cane wobbles as she walks. “It’s been such a long time, dear.”
Hilly blinks at her several times. I do not know if Hilly is more shocked at how my mother looks, or the other way around. Mother’s once thick brown hair is now snow white and thin. The trembling hand on her cane probably looks skeletonlike to someone who hasn’t seen her. But worst of all, Mother doesn’t have all of her teeth in, only her front ones. The hollows in her cheeks are deep, deathly.
“Missus Phelan, I’m—I’m here to—”
“Hilly, are you ill? You look horrendous,” Mother says.
Hilly licks her lips. “Well I—I didn’t have time to get fixed up before—”
Mother is shaking her head. “Hilly, darling. No young husband wants to come home and see this. Look at your hair. And that . . .” Mother frowns, peering closer at the cold sore. “That is not attractive, dear.”
I keep my eye on the letter. Mother points her finger at me. “I’m calling Fanny Mae’s tomorrow and I’m going to make an appointment for the both of you.”
“Missus Phelan, that’s not—”
“No need to thank me,” Mother says. “It’s the least I can do for you, now that your own dear mother’s not around for guidance. Now, I’m off to bed,” and Mother hobbles toward her bedroom. “Not too late, girls.”
Hilly stands there a second, her mouth hanging open. Finally, she goes to the door and flings it open and walks out. The letter is still in her hand.
“You are in a lifetime of trouble, Skeeter,” she hisses at me, her mouth like a fist. “And those Nigras of yours?”
“Exactly who are you talking about, Hilly?” I say. “You don’t know anything.”
“I don’t, do I? That Louvenia? Oh, I’ve taken care of her. Lou Anne’s all set to go on that one.” The curl on the top of her head bobs as she nods.
“And you tell that Aibileen, the next time she wants to write about my dear friend Elizabeth, uh-huh,” she says, flashing a crude smile. “You remember Elizabeth? She had you in her wedding?”
My nostrils flare. I want to hit her, at the sound of Aibileen’s name.
“Let’s just say Aibileen ought to’ve been a little bit smarter and not put in the L-shaped crack in poor Elizabeth’s dining table.”
My heart stops. The goddamn crack. How stupid could I be to let that slip?
“And don’t think I’ve forgotten Minny Jackson. I have some big plans for that Nigra.”
“Careful, Hilly,” I say through my teeth. “Don’t give yourself away now.” I sound so confident, but inside I’m trembling, wondering what these plans are.
Her eyes fly open. “That was not me WHO ATE THAT PIE!”
She turns and marches to her car. She jerks the door open. “You tell those Nigras they better keep one eye over their shoulders. They better watch out for what’s coming to them.”
MY Hand SHAKES as I dial Aibileen’s number. I take the receiver in the pantry and shut the door. The opened letter from Harper & Row is in my other hand. It feels like midnight, but it’s only eight thirty.