filled with celebrating guests, and Larry introduced Violet to his extended family. Larry’s brother, William, was a frequent visitor in Maitland, and she already knew him and his wife.
As everyone began to eat the first course, Larry devoted his attention to his maternal aunt on his left, and Mrs. Holland chatted graciously with Violet, but eventually the conversation turned to a subject that distressed Violet. Was it by design or only accidental that Mrs. Holland asked, “Are you related to the Kansas City Conleys, Violet?”
“I don’t know anyone in Kansas City.”
“That’s too bad, for those Conleys are prominent, both politically and socially.” Mrs. Holland leaned back to let the waiter take her plate, sparing Violet the necessity to comment. She had been born in Kansas, so she could be related to the Conleys Mrs. Holland mentioned, but she didn’t ask whether Mrs. Holland referred to the city in Missouri or Kansas. It wasn’t wise to ask the matriarch of the Holland family too many questions.
“Where do your relatives live?” the woman persisted, and Violet decided this was Mrs. Holland’s way of checking her eligibility to enter the Holland family. Larry must be getting serious in his attentions to her.
Choosing her words carefully, Violet said, “I know nothing about my father’s family. He died when I was two years old, and I went to live with my Aunt Ruth in Minnesota. I don’t know any Conleys except myself.”
“And your mother?”
“I lost her about the same time, so I’m fortunate that Aunt Ruth wanted me. She gave me a good home.”
“I would like to meet your Aunt Ruth sometime.”
“Perhaps you can the next time she comes to Maitland. She visits two or three times each year.”
Violet’s hands were clammy with cold sweat, and she laid down her fork, slipped her hands under the table and wiped them on the napkin. She was trembling inside, but she hoped it wasn’t obvious to Mrs. Holland. William summoned his mother to cut the birthday cake, and when they returned to the table for dessert and coffee, Mrs. Holland didn’t question her again, but Violet was nervous and apprehensive the rest of the evening.
The next day, Thursday, was pure bedlam for Violet as she spent the day in the gym guiding excited students as they assembled their projects. Tables had been placed in close proximity to accommodate the two hundred exhibits. Violet was pleased with most of the students’ work, relieved that she didn’t have to choose the best entry. Janie’s project brought tears to her eyes, and she wondered how the girl, in the face of her ostracism, had the courage to display the evidence of what her life had been as a runaway.
The exhibit, titled Life on the Street, was enclosed in a shadow box, and many of the models were three-dimensional. Although Violet knew little about art, even she could tell that the girl had great creative ability, and she decided to encourage Janie to enroll in some art courses. The background of the box was a cityscape, a dark backdrop of brick buildings, but the attached figures were in vivid colors.
The scene portrayed the outcast, the struggling poor, the homeless, as well as troubled teenagers—all victims of an existence that had lost its meaning, lost all hope and faith.
The caption at the bottom said it all. “There, except for the Grace of God, goeth I.”
Violet was careful not to comment on the projects, for she didn’t want to give any of the pupils false hopes when she would have no part in the decision making. All day long, as she worked to arrange the exhibits, she thought of Janie and what her life must have been as a runaway. She wanted to help the girl, but where did compassion end and meddling start?
To take her mind from Janie’s problems, Violet thought of Misty Gibson’s poor efforts to produce a replica of the White House. The columns sagged, and instead of being white, glue had seeped through the paint, leaving the structure a sickly gray. She and Roger had exchanged amused glances when he had carried his daughter’s project into the gym. Misty was a good cheerleader, and popular with the other students, but she wasn’t overburdened with artistic talent. Jason, Roger’s oldest, was much like his father in personality and appearance, but Misty’s blond hair and fair features indicated that she must favor her mother.
Three judges from adjoining counties met in the gym at the close of the school day to make their selections and the teachers went home. Violet resisted the urge to return in the evening to learn the judges’ decision, and she was able to say honestly to the dozens of telephone calls from anxious students, “I don’t have any idea whom the judges chose. We’ll have to wait until tomorrow to see.”
But before bedtime she did know the judges’ decision, and she learned it in a revolting way that both angered and disillusioned her. When the phone rang at ten o’clock, she was pleased to hear Larry’s voice. She had been so busy all day that she hadn’t exchanged words with him.
After greeting her, Larry said, “I’m at the school now, and we have a problem that I think should be corrected before the students arrive tomorrow. Janie Skeen was not only awarded first place in her grade, but she was given the Best of Show award. You know what that means.”
“Oh, yes, and I’m delighted. I thought her exhibit was fabulous, and it certainly deserves to be entered in the regional exhibition.”
“Well, I’m not happy about it, and I want those awards changed.”
Not willing to believe what she was hearing, Violet said, “Why?”
“Would you want a girl with her reputation to represent us at a regional function?”
“And why not?” Violet demanded, trying not to sound belligerent.
“It’s unthinkable. There are other projects just as deserving as hers, and it’s going to cause trouble with our most supportive parents if we allow Janie to be the winner. I’ll admit her exhibit is realistic, and it should be—she has obviously seen all of that firsthand.”
Violet felt sick. She had always admired Larry for his ability as an administrator and his fairness to the staff. Until now, she hadn’t considered that Larry was influenced by his mother’s narrow opinions. She conceded that many of the parents would be angry, for there had been some strenuous objection when Janie enrolled in the school. Violet had dealt with angry parents many times, but always before she had Larry’s support. He obviously wouldn’t support her now, but to do what he suggested was repugnant.
“Larry, I will not change those awards.”
“Then, I’ll do it. If you haven’t seen them, you don’t even know who was chosen.”
“But I will know, for the judges send me a copy of their deliberations and the winners’ names. And,” she paused to draw a deep breath, “if Janie doesn’t have the recognition she deserves, I’ll make their report public.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Larry said angrily and terminated the conversation.
Violet didn’t even go to bed for she knew she would never sleep. She agreed with Larry that many of the parents would complain long and loud about Janie being chosen, and she had enjoyed a good rapport with the parents, who had endorsed everything she wanted to do. She didn’t want to lose their support. But why should they blame her?
And what about her relationship with Larry? His attention had given Violet more self-confidence than she had ever had. She enjoyed the
