“To who?” she replied, confused.
“The girl you said you were in love with. The one that made your parents so upset.”
“Ah,” she smiled sadly. “Lorraine.” She sighed. “I was in love with her. Unfortunately, she was not in love with me. We broke up before I left for Wake Forest. It's probably for the best. My parents could accept – barely – a daughter who was a lesbian. Living with, maybe even marrying a black girl? That would have been beyond the pale. And I don't think Lorraine's family was too fond of me, either. It's asking a lot for a black family to get used to the idea that their daughter is going out with a girl whose family used to own slaves.”
She bent over to check the temperature again. “All ready,” she said, changing the subject. Very carefully, she lowered the hoist until the
