Wysteria raised her brow as she watched Beatrice spoon more sugar into the glass pitcher on the table. "Don't you think you've added enough already?"

"You can never have enough sugar," Beatrice said.

"Keep it up and you won't be able to fit into your corset," Wysteria said turning her attention back to the map in her lap.

"I don't think you'll find anything else out by just staring at that all day," Beatrice said pouring a swallow of her lemonade into a cup. She tasted it. "Needs more lemons." She grabbed another lemon from the counter and sliced if in half. "You try the next one before I mess it up again."

"I don't know if I want to," Wysteria said. "Every time you make lemonade it's either too bitter or too sweet. Sort of like yourself." She laughed.

"Ha ha, Wysteria," Beatrice mocked. "You've never been good at telling jokes you know." Having added the extra lemon she poured another glass. The pitcher pressed against the cup toppling it over and sending a tide of lemon juice across the table.

"Beatrice!" Wysteria scolded snatching up the wet map. "Now you've done it."

"I'm sorry I'm sorry!" Beatrice panicked. She grabbed a hand towel and stopped the lemonade tide from spilling over the table. "Quickly hold it over the stove."

"And let it catch fire?"

"Well use the gas lamp then quick!"

Wysteria lit the gas lamp and held the map over the top of the glass shade.

"Is it working?" Beatrice asked, wringing the towel over the sink.

Wysteria held the map up and looked at the paint. "It doesn't seem to be running."

Beatrice looked back at the map and frowned. "Where those letters always there?" she came back over to the table and pointed to the back of the map. "Flip it over, Wysteria."

Wysteria flipped the map over on its back and the sister held it between them. "It says, bring your ice-skates and co-co coats." She looked over at Beatrice. "What sort of—"

"There is another word there but I can't make it out," Beatrice said. "It's still faded. Hold it over the fire again."

Wysteria did just so and they watched as more words and then a paragraph appeared. Beatrice quickly grabbed paper and pencil from the counter. They read together.

Hello, girls,

You have deciphered my letter to you. Very well done. I hope you are all doing well in Mass. There is something I would like for you to have upon my dying but if I told you where it was and exactly how to find it the purpose would be spoiled. For now I shall only tell you this. Bring a rope, bring your skill and bring your ice-skates and coats. Follow this map to its destination and there I shall speak with you one last time.

Your loving Pa

The words slowly began to fade as the lemon juice dried and the paper cooled. Wysteria fell back into her chair. "Do you know what this means?" She looked up at her sister. "It means Pa really does want us to follow this map. There must really be a treasure."

Beatrice turned the map back over. "But it doesn't say much," she said. She looked down at the words she had copied. "And what does all of this mean?"

Wysteria folded the map. "We should maybe wait and discuss this with Ladybird," she said. "Meanwhile I had better get to the Smarts' house. The children will be finished with their lessons."

"And I have a croquet game with Samantha and a few other friends," Beatrice said. "We'll just have to do without lemonade." She left the kitchen and picked up her bag by the door.

"Don't forget, you have to practice your solo in class tonight," Wysteria called after her.

"I won't!" Beatrice shouted letting the door slam behind her.

/

"You're calling off the engagement?" Ladybird clutched her change purse only slightly hearing the clinging of dishes as other patrons ate and the voices of waiters as they served tables. The afternoon was bright and the light of the sun shone in from the window directly on their table. She glanced momentarily at other customers enjoying their conversations at other little round tables and wished she could be a part of them.

"Yes." Philemon's reply came like ice down her back.

"You brought me out here in public to break an engagement we have had since June?" she pushed back on her feathered hat feeling the pens cold against her scalp as a sinking sensation overtook her. "Does this have something to do with what happened last night?"

"No," Philemon said. "It's not anything you have done. It's your sister, Beatrice."

Ladybird searched the table absently. "What does this have to do with her?"

"Her heritage, Ladybird," Philemon said. "my cousin didn't influence this. I've been thinking about it for a long time. By marrying you I'd be taking on your family."

"My sisters and my grandmother."

"Yes, and that includes Beatrice," Philemon said. "Can you imagine what dinners and reunions will be like when everyone sees her white heritage?"

Ladybird was speechless. She could feel the sweat of her palms moistening her white gloves. "What do you have against whites?" she asked. "Your friend Silas is a white man."

"Silas and I aren't friends we just grew up together," Philemon said. "We are civil because it's gentlemanly."

"No I think Silas is a true gentleman from the heart," Ladybird said breathlessly.

"You can't fault me for the way I feel," Philemon said. "You're from the south, Ladybird, so surely you understand. Your father was lynched for Pete's sake."

"It's true, Philemon but my Grandmother lives her in Massachusetts today because her family was assisted by the underground railroad. Some of which who were white. Should I hate them? Should I be ungrateful to them just because of the color of the skin is shared with those who beat and murder my people at will? You sound just like such ones now."

"You don't understand," Philemon said. "My father told me how confused mulattos can be. They aren't black and they aren't white. They question their heritage."

"My sister is not a mulatto! Beatrice knows who she is. My sister!"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"You can pawn the ring or keep it if you wish."

"I'll do neither," Ladybird said. She pulled off her glove then slipped the engagement ring from her finger and placed it on the table between them.

Philemon pocketed the ring and signaled the waiter. "I'm sorry, Ladybird but I think this is for the best." He tipped the waiter. "Put whatever she had on my tab."

"Yes, Mr. Yewtree."

Philemon walked away as though nothing had happened.

Ladybird stared blankly at the wall overwhelmed by a weight on her chest.

"Can I get you something, miss?" the waiter suddenly asked.

"No thank you," Ladybird said with a weak smile. She delicately flipped a tear away from her eye. Remember you are a lady.

/

With the sun behind her Wysteria headed to the studio for pointe class. The director was so far pleased with the performance but it still needed perfecting. She changed into her leotard and tutu in the washroom then entered the studio. Ladybird was already at the head of the class helping a dancer with her arabesque promenade. She set down her luggage and took out her violin.

Instructing the class to continue practicing Ladybird went over to Wysteria who was tightening her bow strings. "We have a record for Vivaldi so you won't have to play as much tonight."

Wysteria nodded as she studied her sister's face. "Are you well, Ladybird? You don't look too good."

Ladybird wiped her forehead. "I've been dancing very hard."

"But you look stressed," Wysteria said. "Is the performance going well? Where's Beatrice?"

"She wasn't at the house when I came home and she wasn't there when I left," Ladybird said.

"But she must practice her solo," Wysteria said. "The other dancers are depending on her." She shook her head. "I told her not to forget. She's as ornery as ever."

"The past few days have been difficult for both of us." Ladybird admitted rubbing her hands.

Wysteria's eyes went down to her sister's fingers. "Ladybird, you've lost your ring!"

Ladybird hid her hands behind her back like a naughty child and felt foolish. "I haven't lost it," she said. "And it wasn't stolen, before you ask that."

"Did something happen to Yewtree?"

"Yes," Ladybird sucked up her tears. "He called off the engagement."

Wysteria found it hard to look at her sister. "I'm sorry, Ladybird."

"Let's just not talk about it," Ladybird said. "We have a recital to plan for."

"But what about Beatrice?"

"We'll carry on without her." Ladybird turned away before Wysteria could ask any more questions. She put a smile on her face and took charge of her class.