An Old Fashioned Southern Romance Novel by Annalise Arrington Page A

alas, it was Hattie enlisted to bear the brunt of White folks’ inability or unwillingness to discipline their own children. When Hattie saw the girl sashaying up the promenade, she knew she had her work cut out for her. She had all of the etiquette and upbringing of Annabella and all of the attitude and unyielding manners of Caroline. She had an intense glow about her skin and bone-straight, dark brown hair that fell to her waist. She looked just like Pocahontas in a hoop skirt. Hattie had a good mind to snatch her bald if she was resolved to cause problems while visiting. Hattie had one nerve left and heaven help the poor heathen who dared get on it.
    “Why Hattie, you are looking as lovely as a daisy in springt ime. How on earth do you manage to maintain such a youthful appearance?”
    “Because black don’t crack,” Hattie informed the girl.
    “And so witty,” Vidalia responded. “I missed you terribly. Why, the last time I saw you, I was knee-high to a June bug.”
    “And now look at you,” Hattie pretended to be impressed at Vidalia’s growth. “What brings you to town?” Hattie asked rhetorically. 
    “Well, my 21 st birthday is upon me and I thought it was time to return to my roots and find a nice Southern gentleman with which I can settle down.”
    “That sounds lovely, Vidalia. But, your mother seems to think you are here because you are quite the troublemaker up north.”
    “Hattie, you know full well that my mother thinks any unmarried girl is a troublemaker.”
    Vidalia was speaking the truth. Hattie knew Vidalia’s mother and she was as traditional as they come. Her primary reason for moving the family to Seattle was that she thought the southern heat made girls more susceptible to the advances of boys. She was sure her daughter would cool down if they moved to dreary Seattle. But Vidalia was a Southern girl at heart and the only thing a move north did, if anything, was keep her from spontaneously combusting altogether. So, Hattie was stuck with the little firecracker for as long as it would take for her to find a husband. Hattie knew, however, that the pickings were slim in their narrow town and if any husband were to be found there, he would certainly not be up to the standards of Ms. Vidalia. So as to not give the appearance of not wanting to be bothered with the weary girl, Hattie decided that she would let her find out on her own that there was nothing to marry around these parts. After a few months, the girl would be so ready to go back to Seattle, she wouldn’t bother packing a bag. So, Hattie prepared a room for the girl and made her a fine dinner. Vidalia may have thought she had found Hog Heaven, but Hattie had something else in mind for the girl.
    When Vidalia awakened from her fabulous slumber, she expected to smell warm, buttery waffles and delicious bacon. When she made her way to the kitchen to find out why there was no spread, she was flabbergasted. Hattie had prepared a bucket of water and insisted that Vidalia start mopping the floors.
    “Hattie! What is the meaning of this?”
    “It’s called domestication, Ms. Vidalia. If you hope to ever catch a husband, you must be able to keep house. You see, my dear, I will not be with you once you accept nuptials. A Southern wife is more often than not the domestic help.”
    “This is insane. Why, I have never done housework!”
    “No time like the present, my dear. Get to mopping.”
    Hattie handed Vidalia the mop in an effort to assess the girl ’s initial skill level. While she may not have had first-hand experience, she certainly had seen the act performed at some point in her life because she was rather good for a neophyte.
    “Keep up the good work, Vidalia. I have prepared a list of chores for you. Once they are complete, I will make you a delicious lunch.”
    Hattie retired to her room and listened as the poor girl cursed like a sailor. Hattie was tickled. She was going to teach everyone for once and for all. The new creed