locked. But after a long while, she came from somewhere 19
and peered through the linen curtains.
20
Seeing me, she was startled. I don’t know if it was the 21
suit or the surprise appearance, but she opened the door 22
and said, “Mr. Blakey? What are you doing here?”
23
“Thought I’d check up on my business.” The words 24
didn’t sound like me and the voice was queer. I didn’t 25
know why I had come out to Bridgehampton, to the little 26
converted cottage that Narciss used as her shop and home.
S 27
You had to step down to enter the house. The front room R 28
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Walter Mosley
1
was large and there were quilts everywhere — hanging from 2
the walls, spread out on chairs, folded in stacks in the cor-3
ner. The designs were rude on the whole and the cloth was 4
old, stained, and often yellowing. The dominant color was 5
white, and that made the room nearly glisten. Narciss wore 6
a black skirt that came down to midcalf. It clung to her slen-7
der figure and stood out against the whiteness of the room.
8
Her skin, with its subtle variations, seemed like a black-and-9
brown flame that had been stylized in a painting.
10
“I was working out back,” she said as an excuse or 11
maybe as a reason to be left alone.
12
“I thought this shop was your work?”
13
“It is — in a way. I’m writing a book too, about the Ne-14
gro quilts of the northeastern states. I hope that it will be 15
a historical document as well as a craft and collecting re-16
source. Harvard University Press wants to publish it.” She 17
rubbed her long fingers against the side of her face and 18
looked down at the floor.
19
“That sounds nice,” I said. “How long you been work-20
ing on it?”
21
“Years,” she said, smiling an apology.
22
“Good work needs time,” my mother said often and I 23
repeated then.
24
She smiled again and I blessed my mom.
25
