Free When the Tide Ebbs: An epic 1930's love story (A Grave Encounter) by Kay Chandler Page B

her. There’s nothing shameful about being a maid.”
    I smirked. “Yeah? Maybe not, but everyone knows cleaning houses is not the only way she makes a dollar. I imagine Dabney Foxworthy makes more in one hour at night than she makes in a whole week working as a maid.”
    I expected Zann to at least raise an eyebrow. Instead, she rolled her eyes in disgust. “Kiah, who are we to judge?”
    Her remark caught me by surprise. Maybe I had no right to judge, but didn’t she realize her position? Didn’t she understand her elite Christian heritage qualified her to be both judge and jury of the lower class? Surely, such a distinguished pedigree provided her with a non-expiring Fellow Ship boarding pass.
    Instead of admiring her for not being critical, annoyance gnawed at me. Maybe because she shot down my notion that all Christians were a bunch of pompous bigots.
    “Kiah, when you get to know her as I do, you’ll discover Dabney is a really sweet girl. I think she’s pretty, don’t you?”
    What kind of question was that? Besides, I knew more about Dabney Foxworthy than I cared to know. What made Zann think I’d want to get to know her better?
    “Well?” Her shoulders lifted. “I asked you a question. Don’t you think she’s pretty?” She grinned as she waited for my answer.
    Heat rose from under my collar. “I reckon,” I mumbled. She was right. Dabney was pretty, but until now I’d never stopped to think about it. Her golden hair was a mass of long curls, which she sometimes secured with a barrette on top of her head, with a few loose tendrils framing her sun-kissed face. Her eyes were the color of the ocean—sometimes more green than blue—and at other times more blue than green. Perhaps I’d paid more attention to Dabney Foxworthy than I wanted to admit to myself. I scratched my head, as I captured her image. The girl was stacked like a brick outhouse. I glanced at Zann and hoped she couldn’t read my thoughts. Then, I shrugged and said, “Aww, I reckon she’s pretty. Or at least she could be, if she’d take a rag and wipe off the war paint.”
    Zann smiled. “What do you mean, you reckon she’s pretty? You know she is.”
    I went from being slightly annoyed to being riled. It wasn’t fair to be grilled about some painted hussy who prissed around like her hip was out of joint. Aware of Dabney Foxworthy’s reputation with the boys, I resented Zann trying to get me to see her in a false light. “She wears too much make-up,” I snipped.
    Zann nodded.
    I let out a breath, glad she saw fit not to argue.
    “I agree, Kiah. I’ve told her she’s beautiful without all the paint, but Dabney has a low self-image. It’s hard for her to believe she’s pretty.”
    Zann’s eyes widened as her brow shot up. “Kiah, I’ve just had an excellent idea. If you were to talk to her and convince her she’s a natural beauty and doesn’t need all the make-up, I’m sure she’d listen. She needs to hear it from a fellow. I think it might be the esteem booster she needs.”
    I stiffened. “Oh, no, not me. If having a man tell her she’s beautiful will boost her confidence, then I can assure you Dabney Foxworthy has more confidence than the law allows. I’m sure she hears it over and over every Saturday night.” I smirked. “It’s a known fact, the line forms in front of her door on the week-ends.” I grimaced, ashamed, as the raw words spewed from my lips. It was crude and uncalled for.
    “Kiah Grave, what’s your problem?”
    I winced. Maybe I’d been too hard on myself. Apparently, I hadn’t been as explicit as I supposed. “If you don’t get it, I don’t know if I can explain it to you, but I’ll try. Zann, if flattering words could change Dabney, she’d be changed already. She’s heard the words. Many times. But she’s what she is, and neither you nor I nor anyone knocking on her door at midnight can say anything that will turn her into an untarnished angel.”
    Zann’s eyes squinted. .
    I