You know can't no women get together without having a good gossipfest. We talked about any and everybody in the church, from the pantsuit that Sue Evanston wore to church a few Sundays before, to the affair that Reverend Pierson's son Mike was having with old Sister Ruby Terrance's granddaughter Dawn, to how the new Mrs. Pierson dressed and acted.

"That heifer thinks she a Soul Train dancer rather than the first lady of Greater Love. That red skirt she was wearing Sunday looked like a coat of glossy paint on her legs," Thea Jackson said maliciously.

I came to the girl's defense. "Stella Pierson ain't but twenty-two. She can't help it if she fell in love with an old preacher."

"Girl, only thing she fell into was that man's money. And the way she flirts with the young men in the choir is scandalous, scandalous! She was in the choir room after church for a whole half hour with Gregory Richardson... alone!" The other women popped their lips and shook their heads in confirmation.

"Well, Stella remind me of my big sister Gracie," I said. "A whole lotta people used to talk about her cause she didn't care what people like us thought. And she got what she wanted in the end. "

They all seemed curious. "What happened?" Angela, who usually doesn't participate in our gossip, asked.

And I began.

"Gracie was always different than the rest of us. First of all, she looked different. Our mama, Marie LeBlanc, was half Creole, half Cherokee Indian. Me and Maizie and the boys all took after her, but Gracie came out looking just as skinny and black. Like Daddy.

"Another thing, she was smart. Maizie and me only went to Howard cause Daddy wanted us to, and the boys only went to Morehouse cause my daddy went there. Now Gracie coulda got married right there in New Orleans, cause there was this boy that had took a liking to her. But Gracie wasn't hearing it. She wanted to go to Spelman and be a schoolteacher. So my Daddy sent her.

"Last and most important thing y'all need to know about Gracie is that she gets what she wants. She's a manipulator."

"Rosie!" Leola Thomas, a quieter woman, said. "That's your sister, honey!"

"Sister my eye!" Bertha Kelly defended me hotly. "My older sister has stolen every man I've ever laid eyes on, including my ex-husband." She grinned wickedly. "Helen told me yesterday she's having trouble sleeping. Must be his funky feet and loud, snotty snoring."

Angela shrugged, ripping fabric. "My twin and I get along pretty good. I can't complain. Well, when we were little, we'd always argue about who was prettier, and now, we argue about who has the better husband. Of course, I do. There's only one Mario."

I saw a way to get back to the story. "And for my sister, there was only one man too... at first."

"After while, news reached back home in Gracie's sophomore year that she was talking to this local boy, Aaron Mathis. Aaron's daddy Lester was a mulatto bartender, and his youngest was studying at Morehouse.

"So they came home. I'll never forget it. 1955. I was thirteen, and thought Aaron was the cutest thing I ever laid eyes on. Just as pretty as he wanted to be, I'll tell you! Oh, but Daddy ain't think so. Cause didn't that boy have a mouth on him? Daddy and him got into it about everything. Religion, politics, black folks and civil rights. Aaron didn't have no shame, or no respect for his elders. Opinionated! My daddy couldn't stand him at all, honey! After Aaron went away back to school, Daddy had this long talk with Gracie. And told her about that Aaron boy, how she needed to keep better company."

Fredericka Hall looked up from her patch. "And she did just the opposite. Ooh, child, don't I know it. My baby girl did the same thing. Her daddy told her about that fool she up and married. And he ain't caused her nothing but grief since the day she said 'I do'."

"I ran away and got married too," Thea grinned, "and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Abraham was a dreamer, and my mama told me if I married him, I'd be entering a blood covenant with poverty. She wanted me to marry googly-eyed Billy Joe Killeen, cause his family owned some land. But old Billy died a pauper, and my Abe's a dentist."

"What happened to Gracie?" Angela wanted to know.

I continued.

"Things `tween Gracie and Aaron went from warm to steaming hot when they were in their third year in Atlanta. Then Byron Rice came into the picture. He was a philosophy student at Morehouse..."

"Phil who?" Mayrella, who had just got back from the restroom, was lost.

"Philosophy," I supplied impatiently. "He wanted to go on to seminary, you know, to be a preacher."

Enlightenment dawned on Mayrella's face. "Oh! Go on, Rosie."

I stopped to think. "Let me see. Where was I? Oh, yeah..."

"Byron Rice was studying up to be a minister at Morehouse. He was a Q..."

"What's a Q?" Harriet Turner said. Not only did she not go to school, her husband ain't go either. And she ain't all into society like a lot of these other black ladies that go to Greater Love are.

"Omega Psi Phi fraternity," I told her. "So anyway..."

"Byron was studyng religion and was a Q. Aaron was a Kappa. They had a lot in common. Both were presidents of their local fraternity chapters. Both were well-known on campus and well-acquainted with the ladies. Both hated the other's guts. And both was in love with my sister Gracie.

"Gracie really loved her some Aaron. Then this Bahamian girl, Naima Dennyson, started coming around. She was a pretty girl, and slick too. Got next to my sister's boyfriend, and was carrying his baby.

"Gracie found this out, and she wanted to hurt him bad. So she started going with the one man he hated more'n anything else in the world. Byron Rice.

"Oh, Gracie liked him for a friend, but she had that boy thinking she was in love with him. Brought him home too. He was dark and round, with this big slaphappy grin and an even bigger stomach. He had to be a preacher... I couldn't see him doing nothing else. And he agreed to everything Daddy said with a "yessir, nossir, that's right, sir"! My daddy loved him some Byron. So he started trying to convince Gracie to marry him.

"She might not have, if Aaron hadn't married Naima once the baby came. But he did. Oh, you shoulda seen Gracie! Took the train home from Georgia that weekend with her face all swole, saying her life was over, over. Daddy beat the sense back into her all the way to Georgia. Told her, you ain't wasting my money lusting after some good-for-nothing red bastard! So she went back up there and graduated Miss Spelman, and summa cum laude. And married Byron a week after that. They moved in down the street from us, and Byron got to be the assistant pastor at my daddy's church, New Philadelphia Baptist.

"The trouble between them started right away. She wanted to teach, he wanted her to stay home and have his babies. Gracie ain't the most motherly woman in the world, that's why I got her child now, but when her first son was born, she fooled everybody into thinking she was. Byron Malcolm Rice, Jr. -- we all called him Mack. Mack was a cute chubby little thing... but light as brown sugar.

"Folks counted back nine months, did a little digging, and found out Aaron Mathis, newly divorced, was back in town at that exact same time. The rumors spread, but fizzled out. To tell you the truth, I do think that was Byron's baby. My sister had been too mad at the time at Aaron for it not to be.

"My daddy retired in `65. By then, Byron had finished seminary, and had the church all to himself. He was a good preacher, too. Congregation grew to `round about fifteen hundred. With my sister as first lady over `em all. And the kids! Had a litter of `em. There was Mack, and Cynthia -- Cindy, and Juniper, who we called Junie-boy, then Terry, short for Teresa and the twins Marcus and Michael we called Mark and Mike, then Timothy, or Tiny Tim."

"I had a big family myself," Thea said proudly. "Five kids. Last one just went to college next year. And you know what? I miss each and every one of them. I was telling my husband we should have adopted."

"All I have is Angelo," Angela said sweetly. "I wanted a big family, but I wanted to heal kids more. I got my family through being a pediatrician."

"My twins didn't do nothing but cause me grief," Mayrella said wistfully. "The girl Leonora's strung out somewhere on that dope, and the boy Leonard drunk half the time, in and out of jail the other. I told my baby Gina, just before she went to FAMU last year, girl, you my last and only remaining hope. Don't fail me!"

"I'm starting to feel like Cherie's mine," I said. "The Lord saw me longing for a little girl, and He sent her to me. And I'm getting used to Peach, although you still gotta slap some sense into him now and then, when he forget who he's talking to. So..."

"Then come 1969. Me and Leon went down there for Mardi Gras that year. And who should we run into but Aaron Mathis. I talked with him for a good while, and he say, yeah, he was moving back to New Orleans for good that summer. He was going to open a lil' old fashioned jazz and juke joint in the Quarter. We talked about my family, and I told him about Gracie and Byron and their seven kids. And his hazel eyes glowed like he had this devil in him that he was just busting to set loose.

"Well, we went back to New York and he went back wherever he came from. I ain't think nothing else of it till I saw my baby nephew when we visited Louisiana that Christmas. That was Aaron's child."

"You mean to tell me that Byron didn't know that wasn't his baby?" Thea wanted to know.

"I never will know for sure, I suppose. But I think Byron didn't want to know the truth. In his mind, that was his son. And you couldn't tell him otherwise."

Angela was reaching into the scrap bag. "Well, Quentin certainly isn't dark skinned like you described Grace or Byron. But he does favor you somewhat, Rosie..."

"Honey, you ain't seen Aaron Mathis. That boy look like Aaron just up and spit him right out his mouth! Got his personality too... just as hardheaded. But anyway..."

"So I went down there and saw this pretty little boy child. Named him Quentin after his granddaddy Quincy Hamilton. His brothers and sisters swore he looked just like a peach with his fat cheeks and light orangish skin. And I started saying, 'Look at the little baby peach!' Pretty soon, our kinfolks was referring to him as 'peachie pooh-pooh pie' and 'peachikins' and 'peachhead'. And he couldn't never shake it off. He don't like it, but we call him that to this day...

"The folks at the church must've talked something terrible cause when we went back there the next year, Byron had resigned and was preaching at this church out in the country, where our old Aynie Millie lived. Little town right past the Mississippi border called Morningside.

"Eight years passed. Here come `77. My niece Desiree, who we call Desi like Desi Arnaz, was born. Looking just like her brother Quentin. Nobody raised hell this time, cause Morningside folks didn't know all that much about the Aaron story. And the only thing the family said to her was, 'Gracie, you sure is old to be having a baby,' cause by then she was forty-three.

"A week later, Cindy and Junie-boy up at Southern were the victims of this prank on a professor gone bad. Sugar in the gas tank of Junie's old van, and when they tried to come home from Baton Rouge to see the baby, my niece and nephew were killed. That almost killed poor Byron, but my sister wasn't fazed by it. At first, we thought she was in shock, but I never seen her break down."

"My Jeremiah was dead a year before I shed a single tear," Fredericka said.

Angela was running the sewing machine. "When my father passed, I didn't admit it for months. I kept saying to Mario, `What do you think Dad would say if I called him about coming up for Christmas this year?' And he would shake his head and tell me, `Baby, Daddy Lewis is dead! He's gone!' It just wouldn't register."

"Naw. This wasn't normal. She wasn't in no shock. She didn't seem to care one way or the other..."

"So we buried the poor children. Then came another call in `80, around early February again. This was the worst one of all... all the rest of the children older than Peach died. See, by then Mack was grown, and had got married to this real pretty girl named Alice. They had a little baby boy, Quincy. Anyway, Mack had rented this RV and was taking them camping. Peach didn't go, cause a friend of his wanted him to go into the city with his uncle for Mardi Gras. Gracie said that two toddlers would be a little too much for Alice to handle, so she kept Desi. Well, the roads was icy that weekend. And this damn... excuse my language in the house of the Lord, ladies... drunk truck driver hit and knocked `em off the road. Accident so bad, it killed all of them."

"Sweet Jesus!" Mayrella said.

"Seven children, your daughter-in-law, your grandbaby!" Harriet shook her head in pity. "Some of us get more than our fair share of trouble. Poor, poor Gracie."

"Oh, you won't pity her in a minute," I promised.

"We had to have a memorial service, just like for Cindy and Junie, cause it wasn't enough of `em left to bury. Just had `em separated and cremated. Byron did his second eulogy for some children of his in less than three years. He broke down in the middle of it. Peach was ten, a big boy by then, but tears just rolled down his face. He cried so. But Gracie was just as cheerful there, at the gravesite, and afterwards at brunch. I used to wonder if she'd snapped.

"Then in late `81, around the holidays, Byron found out he was dying of prostate cancer that had spread... m... me..."

"Metastasized?" Angela provided.

"Thank you, honey. Me-ta-sta-sized throughout his body where they couldn't get to it. He was dying.

"Peach took care of his baby sister and just watched his father die. Gracie was in New Orleans just about every weekend at that club that Aaron had started, Maritime..."

"What!" Thea shouted.

I ignored her and went on to finish.

"Finally, Byron died in November of `81. And poor Peach, that little boy mourned quietly. Just grieved at heart. They had a big funeral in New Orleans at New Philadelphia, then they flew his body to his family in Houston for the burial. Gracie didn't attend neither, cause she too busy getting ready to marry Aaron a month later."

I waited.

And sure enough, they all had something to say about that.

"That woman didn't have any sense of decency! Couldn't she have waited?" Fredericka huffed.

Angela sewed away fiercely. "I can see her loving Aaron and all, but he would have been there. Byron was her husband for all that time. He deserved at least some respect."

"Your sister and me would not get along," Leona muttered darkly.

Harriet snapped a thread with her teeth angrily.

"A month? A month? You sure are right, Rosie. I don't pity that witch at all," Thea conceded.

"Selfish heifer," Mayrella hissed.

Bertha was disgusted. "What you say to her?"

I shrugged. "I gave her the benefit of the doubt. There was the shock factor involved, and all that. Then I had a talk with her when I flew down to New Orleans by myself to see what was wrong..."

"She was grinning from ear to ear. `This is like a dream come true, Rosie. I still can't believe this could possibly happen for me after all this years.'

"And I just looked at her. I said, `A dream come true? In the past four years you done buried seven of your children and your husband and it's a 'dream come true'? What you want us to do, kill Peach and Desi for you too?'

"'Of course not, Rosie! Don't you see? The past twenty-five years of my life were a horrible mistake. Byron and I together was a mistake from the very beginning. Those seven children he bore off me... I hated all of them! Every time I looked at their ugly faces, pretending that I loved them, I thought about their stupid father and how awful it always was when he was on top of me. He hurt me every single time, Rosie. I'm glad he's dead... and I'm glad they were killed too.'

"I whirled around and slapped the mess out of her. If it wasn't so sad, it woulda been funny. I mean, she about seven years older than me, and used to beat me and Maizie's behind when we would cut the fool growing up. Then I told her, 'So you admitting that Peach and Desi ain't none of Byron's?' I wanted to kill her. Just cut her heart out and stuff it down her silly throat. But just for a minute. I regained my senses and waited for her answer.

"She was nodding and laughing and crying. `And finally, I'll have the family I really wanted. Aaron and I, Quentin and Desiree. You can try to smack the sense back into me, Rosemary. But I don't care what people do or say. I've waited twenty-five long years for this. And Aaron's club is doing so well... and he's over this new division of American Records that's based here in New Orleans. An all jazz division. Please, Rosie, be happy for me.'

"Happy for her? I didn't talk to her for three years, I was so mad. And she's married to Aaron right this minute, getting richer and richer. To this day, I ain't never heard her talk about her life with Byron, her kids, or Morningside either. She got what she wanted in the end. Guess that's all that mattered to her."

The first quilt was done soon as I finished the story. The other women were shaking their heads.

"Now I understand why Quentin is so... well, the way he is," Angela said. "I'll admit to you, Rosie, that I didn't like the idea of my son hanging around that boy at first. I thought he would be a bad influence. But Angelo's not so, well, uptight anymore. I see him having fun, not being so quiet and bookish."

"Yeah, Peach ain't gonna kill himself or nobody else, either, long as he under my roof. Ain't his fault he got Gracie for a mama." I got up, feeling the arthritis in my ankles protest. "Well, ladies, I have done my talking for the time being, so let me get up off my butt. Mayrella, it's lunchtime."

We made two quilts after lunch. When I got home, the first thing I smelled was the pot roast. The house was spotless and Cherie was practicing her lesson from that afternoon.

"Well, there she is!" I said, going over to the piano to drop a kiss on the top of her head. "How was your day, Cherie-girl?"

"Nice. I made breakfast, but Peach squirted the maple syrup at me when I told him you said we didn't have any chocolate. Then Unc yelled at him, and he left the house mad. So I had to do the chores all by myself. Then Angelo came to take me to my piano lesson. I went over Tiffany's for once, `cause she wanted me to help her with this project. That's all. And Peach isn't back yet, either."

She closed the piano and folded her hands together. She's so skinny it's funny. But I remember her crazy, pretty mama saying one time that she was waifish as a child. So I'm waiting.

"What? I'll beat his narrow be..."

A set of keys turned the lock, and my nephew appeared.

"Hey, Aynie!"

"Don't you hey me, boy!" I popped him as soon as he was within reach. "Hay is for horses, and I'm a grown woman who deserves some respect."

"Yes ma'am," he said, kissing me on my cheek and handing me six yellow roses. I shook my head. Just like his daddy. "And how was your day today?"

"What you giving me these for, boy?"

"Why I got to have a reason? Just because," he insisted, winking at Cherie with a slick grin.

I inhaled the sweet fragrance. "Now, isn't that ever sweet? Roses for your Aynie Rose..." I popped him again. He flinched and protested loudly. "Don't try to butter me up. Didn't I tell you to have your behind back in here?"

"Aw, Aynie! I brought you the flowers, that's why I was late."

"I don't care if you was buying me the Ambassador Bridge! I mean what I say, so guess what you'll be doing tonight? Nothing." I kicked off my heels and headed upstairs. "Call whoever and cancel your plans, Peach. Cherie baby, put these in some water for me. I'm gonna change, then we'll have dinner."

She snickered.

He groaned.

I headed upstairs.

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